by Unknown
He hardly ever thinks about it anymore, the differences.
“You shush,” Taryn shoots back, but she does what he says. In the end Nick gets her off twice more like that, messy licking everywhere until she’s groaning, two layers of sheet getting yanked up in her hands. Then, when she’s so slippery his tongue has started skating right off, he pulls back and makes her touch herself instead, her fingers more precise and knowing than his can ever be. She works herself way, way harder than he would have dared. Afterwards Taryn drags her shaky self off the bed and goes down on her knees, the moonlight highlighting her concave cheeks. Nick makes a fist in her hair and hangs on. His legs nearly give out when he comes.
“Right,” Taryn says once she’s swallowed, climbing back on top and applying her hot mouth to his neck. “I think we’re made up now, huh?” It’s been hours, well over two. Nick half-feels like he should go grab them some Gatorade.
He wraps both arms around Falvey’s flushed body instead, making a halfhearted attempt to roll them in the direction of the pillow. “I mean,” he starts, playing with her hair. “It was a pretty good effort.” Taryn laughs.
They’re mostly asleep when someone’s cell phone rings, a muffled, vibrating chime from underneath the pile of clothing. It’s quiet, but both of them startle awake right away, that eerie power of a phone call after midnight. Taryn gets to the source of the noise first.
“Hello?” It’s her crappy prepaid no-brand, the white plastic casing all scratched up along the back. Nick watches as she stands naked at the edge of the bed, plugging one ear like she’s at the stock exchange. “Jess,” she says after listening in silence for a full thirty seconds, “Jess, come on, slow down, I can’t understand you.” Nick scoots closer, reaching for her hand. To his surprise, her fingers close around his like a vise.
The house, she mouths at him. It’s something about the house. Nick nods, but whatever’s being said on the phone has already redirected her attention: “They what?” she hisses, straightening up. All of a sudden her voice goes on-the-job authoritative. “Okay, where are you now? No, Jesse, shut up, listen to me. Right now, where are you? Where are the kids?”
She listens for another second, then, “And everybody’s okay?” She’s squeezing Nick’s hand so hard it’s painful, her palm gone clammy in the dark. “Jesse, say the fucking words to me, say everybody is okay.” Another beat before Taryn—and then Nick—exhales. “Okay,” Taryn says, that same assertive, grown-up voice. “I’m with Nick. We’re coming now.”
She hangs up and stares at him, Nick wanting like all hell to bombard her with eleven thousand questions and forcing himself to keep his mouth shut. It’s a moment before Taryn says anything at all. “Um,” is how she starts when she does. “This is going to sound crazy, but…” Her eyes fill up with tears for the second time tonight, phone still clutched in one rigid fist. Nick’s never seen her look more vulnerable. “Somebody set my house on fire.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Jesse’s been selling, obviously. Taryn has known that since a long time ago, way before he unravels the whole story for her in the ER at Berkshire as they wait to get the kids double-checked for smoke inhalation, Mikey wriggling in Nick’s lap next to the vending machines across the room. She figured it out the very first time those guys showed up at the front door looking for him and maybe even before that, the money and how it appeared with such ragged irregularity, the way he turned into a completely different person with no warning and started disappearing all the time. “Pills?” she asks, pulling her legs up in the uncomfortable plastic chair and resting her chin on one knee. She’s so wrung out, like this night’s gone on for decades. She can’t even muster up any real anger, which is surprising. She’s just…numb.
Jesse nods. “Yeah,” he says, picking at his own shoelaces like Connor when he thinks he’s in trouble. “E, Mostly. Landon knew a guy.”
He got the kids out, Taryn reminds herself. He saved every single one of the kids. “And you what, used them instead of unloading?”
Another nod. “Some of them,” he tells her. “Some of them Sheena’s brother was supposed to sell, which was a disaster. There was this bad batch, laced or whatever. Hot-shots. No would buy from us after. We’d have to test the stuff right in front of customers.” He shrugs. “And then all of a sudden I owed these guys three grand in pills.”
Three grand, Taryn thinks dully. Three thousand dollars. They’re small-time, the guys Jesse was involved with—the police picked them up before the firefighters were even finished—but small-time doesn’t change the fact that they threw a gas-filled Bud Light bottle through the living room window in some colossally fucked up, deadly echo of the brick incident from a few weeks back. The whole downstairs of the house is completely and totally destroyed.
“Will you still have to pay it off now?” she asks after a long pause, tucking her hands into the crook of her bent knee. Hospitals are always so fucking cold. On the other side of the room, Connor comes trudging through the doors with an orderly, apparently having been given the all clear. “Are there other guys who are gonna come looking, or—”
Jesse shakes his head. He smells sooty, not like a campfire but something harsher, accelerants instead of fallen leaves and marshmallows. The shoelaces he’s fiddling with are singed. He got their TV out too, Taryn knows, plus the laptop and a whole crate of Caitlin’s books. All of it was sitting on the lawn when she and Nick pulled up. “No,” Jess is saying now. “Just this guy and his brother. I’ll still owe them when they get out though.” He looks up, peering into Taryn’s face for what feels like the first time all night. “But I can pay it off legitimately. I can.”
Taryn blinks. He probably can, all the jobs he works, but the fact of the matter is they’re going to need rent for a new place a lot sooner than she’d planned for. The house is unlivable now, to the point that letting the bank seize the whole burned-out disaster is honestly the best option. Even if they could pay off the mortgage on time, Taryn still wouldn’t do it. “You better,” is all she tells Jess, borrowing a mom-voice Rosemary never actually used. He nods like a puppet on a string.
Nick makes his way over, Mikey slung over his shoulder and Connor and Cait trailing along behind. “ER says everyone checks out,” he announces quietly. “You guys good to go?” His eyes sweep over Jess before landing on Taryn, eyebrows raised. There hasn’t been any time for awkwardness yet. Taryn shakes her head, mouthing later.
(They agreed already, almost the second they pulled up in front of the smoking house: “You’ll stay with me tonight, okay?” Nick said. “We’ll figure it out.” Taryn nodded.)
Jesse knows the deal too. “Over my dead body am I sleeping there,” he told Taryn on the ride to the hospital, both of them still hopped up on adrenaline, and apparently he means to stick to his guns. Which—fine. That’s fine. He’ll stay with his girlfriend, who cares? Taryn doesn’t have the energy right now. “We’re ready,” she says.
For a second she thinks there’s going to be trouble, Jess standing up deliberately and stepping inside Nick’s space, but in the end he just holds out his arms for Mikey. Nick hesitates at first, but Mikey’s reaching out his chubby fingers too, stretching sleepily toward his brother. It’s a funny transfer to watch, both of the men struggling to touch the baby and not each other.
“I got it, man,” Jesse snaps, a hint of his old macho shtick showing through. Then he shakes his head, cupping the back of Mike’s downy scalp. “Thanks. I’ll just carry him to the car, okay?”
Nick puts his hands in his pockets. “No problem.”
Jesse gets Mikey settled in the backseat of the Tahoe and surprises Taryn with a quick, sudden hug once he straightens. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promises when she squeezes her arms around his narrow shoulders. He nods once at Nick before he goes. “Thanks, dude,” Taryn thinks she might hear him say, but she can’t be certain. Might just as easily have been the wind.
There’s plenty of space for everybody at Nick’s house
, a room for each kid and one to spare, Atlas darting around delightedly at the prospect of company. Taryn cuddles all three of them in one bed for a long time anyhow, promises them they’re safe and that she and Jesse will always protect them, that everything’s going to be okay. She’s not sure how many more times she can tell them that before she loses all credibility, although the truth is that in spite of everything at this moment she almost feels like it’s true. She knows she should be devastated over losing the house like this, heartbroken and traumatized, but in reality she feels almost glad about it. Taryn thinks of doors opening wide. Too many bad things happened in that house, too much screaming and too much fear. She finds she isn’t actually sorry to see it go.
There’s at least a little bit of insurance, Taryn realizes as she pads down the hallway toward the master bedroom. Might be enough for them to make a fresh start. She’s going to need to call Rosemary, tell her what happened and sort out the details, but in some twisted, terrible way, it could be Jesse actually did them a favor. She guesses they’ll have to wait and see.
She finds Nick brushing his teeth in the bathroom, barefoot on the chilly tile. “Everybody okay?” he asks when she knocks on the open door.
Taryn nods. “More or less,” she tells him, perching on the edge of the bathtub. He’s wearing a white cotton T-shirt, muscles moving underneath as he sets his toothbrush down on the counter. Taryn thinks it’s something she wouldn’t hate seeing every single night of her life. It seems insane that she ever tried to tell herself they were better off apart. “Sleeping, at least.”
“Good,” Nick says, reaching down and threading his fingers through hers, reassuring. Taryn rests her forehead against his stomach and breathes. “Cops said we can go by the house tomorrow if you want, see what’s there to salvage. They’ll be done processing the crime scene by then.”
“Crime scene,” Taryn mutters into his T-shirt, the phrase itself making her feel kind of ill. “Jesus Christ. You sure you don’t want to rethink this whole getting back together with me thing?”
“Hey. I’m not rethinking anything, okay?” Nick lets go of one of her hands and threads it through the base of her hasty ponytail, tugs until she leans back and looks at him. “I want you guys here as long as you need to be here.” He shrugs as he gazes down at her, raises his eyebrows like a dare. “Even if you don’t need, I want you here.”
Taryn raises hers back, feeling a different sort of ill swooping through her stomach. Shock, maybe. “You mean, like…?”
Nick untangles his hand from her hair, going down in a crouch in front of her. His face is heartbreakingly serious. “I mean, move in with me. For real.” He cups her knee, the grip just a hair too hard. “Stay here, with me, for good.”
Taryn laughs, the sound of it tearing out of her like a crazy hiccup. “Move in? Oh my God, Nick, no, I can’t.” Because that’s insane, right? They were together for a few months. That’s nothing, that’s not even a full-term baby, hardly long enough for the weather to turn all the way. And then they broke up, and they’ve only just begun to— “You can’t be serious,” she tells him, smiling. She’s clutching at his hand though, nails into the skin like it’s anything but a joke. If it hurts, Nick’s face doesn’t show it. His eyes stay glued to hers, dark and steady and good. Taryn breathes, letting the manic smile slide from her face. “Are you serious?”
Nick nods. “Yeah.” He exhales, closing his knees so they’re hugging hers. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”
Taryn makes herself let go of his hand, loosening her fingers and rubbing them up his arms instead, scritching at the hair there. “Okay,” she says slowly. “You’ve really thought about it, what it’d be like to live with kids? Kids you barely know?” She’s thinking about it now, is the thing, and it probably wouldn’t be that bad. It might—it might even be good, a big yard for the boys to run around in, a nice house, a dog. She’d have to be sure though. She couldn’t be Rosemary, one man then the other, in and out of the kids’ lives like houseplants or goldfish.
She thinks—she thinks she might be sure.
“I’ve thought about it,” Nick confirms, knees squeezing hers. “I like kids. I like these kids.” He lowers his voice, running his hands along her outer thighs. “I love you.”
Taryn wants to climb inside him. “I love you too,” she says, the words coming out funny and fuzzed. She doesn’t want to cry again.
Nick looks up at her, cocking his head. “So then.”
Taryn chokes before she laughs, something close to a sob. “So then.” She cups his shoulders, neck, face. He’s got such a good face, she could look at it forever. “I guess… I guess we can tell them in the morning, huh?”
Nick grins then like she’s hardly ever seen before, his serious face breaking open like he’s getting something he never even let himself hope for. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Tomorrow’s good.”
Taryn stamps a kiss on his mouth to seal the deal. “We’re gonna be roommates,” she says, giggling in wonder as it sinks in for her, how they’ll wake up together every morning and go to bed together every night. Then she pulls back. “I’ll pay rent, obviously,” she tells him quickly. “I mean, that goes without saying, I don’t want you to think I expect—” She wrinkles her nose and stop herself. “You know what I mean.”
Nick smirks at her. “I do,” he promises as he stands up, reaching a hand out and tugging her to her feet. “Come to bed.”
The sheets are still mussed from earlier, the smell of them both sticking faintly to the cotton. Taryn slides underneath the duvet. She feels completely exhausted, like every ounce of energy has well and truly been squeezed out of her. But she also feels…happy.
Really, really happy.
Taryn fits herself close against the broad expanse of Nick’s body, letting him nudge her onto her back and kiss her warm and lazy. She opens her mouth under his. There’s no particular intent to it at all, just the taste of toothpaste and Nick and the warm feeling of coming home to someone who’s waiting. Taryn closes her eyes and sinks in.
About the Author
Ruby McNally double-majored in psychology and cognitive linguistics before ultimately deciding her talents lay elsewhere. She grew up hiding her diary from her five brothers, who will never know she wrote this book. She lives in Boston and has no cats. Crash is her first novel. You can visit her online at rubymcnally.tumblr.com or follow her on Twitter @Ruby_McNally.
Look for these titles by Ruby McNally
Coming Soon:
Singe
Behind every hero is the damage that made him.
Taking Him
© 2013 Jackie Ashenden
Lies We Tell, Book 1
Computer game designer Ellie Fox can’t wait to start her new job in Japan. But first there’s one loose end in Auckland she needs to tie up: her obsession with her older brother’s best friend, Hunter Chase.
She’s sick of being “kid zoned”. It’s time to make like one of her kick-ass computer game heroines and take matters into her own hands. Except when she finally has Hunter where she wants him, her hands are the last thing he’ll let her use.
Hunter works hard at running the construction firm he co-owns with his friend, and at keeping his distance from his dysfunctional family. Control is his linchpin, but there’s just one spanner in the works—Ellie.
The girl he always looked out for suddenly seems determined to make him see her as a woman. But with a past darker than the angel wings tattooed on his back, the safest place for her is just beyond arm’s length. Or the next heart to suffer damage could be hers.
Warning: Contains a tortured hero, a determined heroine, cosplay kink, and a twisted twist that could cause mental whiplash. Line to the WTF Infirmary forms on the right.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Taking Him:
Hunter heard the sound of a zip being undone, but although Ellie’s drunken attitude problem was getting a little out of hand, surely she’d never go that far.
“Elli
e,” he began, “I don’t know what the hell—” Then the words died in his throat as he turned to look at her. She’d sat back in her seat, the halves of the ridiculous jumpsuit she wore hanging open, right the way down to…
He jerked his gaze back to the road, a prickling heat washing over him. Crap. She was bare to the waist.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded through gritted teeth.
White skin. Small, pale breasts. Little pink nipples. Perfect. All utterly perfect.
“Giving you something to laugh about.” She sounded defiant, challenging. “Because obviously the thought of me as a woman is somehow amusing to you.”
His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to forget the sight burned forever into his brain. A sight he wanted to look at again. And again. Which was wrong on so many levels he could barely even begin to think about it.
“Do you see me laughing?” he bit out. “For God’s sake, put your clothes on.”
“Why? You’re embarrassed? You don’t have to be. It’s just me. I’m like a kid sister to you, right?”
The scent of her perfume seemed to fill the confined space of the truck. A sweet, homey smell, flowers of some kind. He’d never noticed it all that much before, but now it was like he couldn’t get it out of his head. A heady, very female kind of scent.
White skin…the pink tips of her breasts…
He took a slow breath, his pulse racing. “I don’t know what point you’re trying to make, sweetness,” he said, struggling to sound normal, “but taking your clothes off isn’t the way to go about it.”