by G. Bailey
“Yeah, she called. Thank God, he actually managed to ask without something going wrong. I was starting to feel bad for him,” Harley chuckles, and I move across the sofa, swinging my one leg over him and sitting on his lap.
“I missed waking up next to you this morning,” I whisper across his lips.
“I gave you a lie in, you deserved it.” He chuckles, and I brush my lips down his neck, and his hands tighten on my hips.
“Tilly,” he warns, when I move my hips and rub myself against him, feeling him getting hard underneath me.
“Yes, Harley?” I ask, sliding off his lap and onto my knees in front of him. I slowly undo his belt as he watches me, his eyes locked on mine the whole time. He lifts his hips a little to help me pull his trousers off, and I take his large cock in my hand. He groans as I lean forward and slide my tongue around the tip, before gently sucking him into my mouth. He is big enough that it’s hard not to gag when I take all of him into my mouth, and he grabs my hair, holding my head in place as I keep still, letting him take over. He fucks my mouth, hard and fast as it’s clear he is losing control, but I love it. I love seeing him relax like this. He suddenly stops, lifting me up, and pushing me onto the sofa. I moan a little when he pulls my leggings and red panties off, before turning me, so I’m on my knees on the sofa. I feel his hand cup me from behind.
“So wet from just having me in your mouth,” he whispers, more to himself, before he moves his hand and slides his cock deep inside me. I arch my back as he grabs my hips and starts pounding away, his grip almost bruising, but the pleasure of having him inside me makes me barely notice. My own hand slides down, rubbing circles on my clit and if anything, it makes him lose more control as he moves faster inside me. He leans forward, just as I come and bites down on my shoulder gently, and I moan his name as he finishes inside me. I collapse to the sofa with Harley pulling me to him, so I’m lying on his chest.
“It’s never been like this,” he says after a long silence.
“Like what?” I ask him.
“It’s never meant anything to me, it was just sex. With you, I swear I feel everything, and I never want it to end,” he says.
“It will never end, I don’t want it to either,” I whisper, and he holds me tighter.
Chapter 25
Tilly
“Hey, you,” I say, resting my hand on Harley’s back, and he turns around with a smile. I rake my eyes over him, seeing him covered in dirt from the gardening he has been doing all day. It’s been three days since the theatre, and Harley moved my baby and me into his bedroom. He had already emptied a wardrobe for us. My eyes cant move away from the muscled body under his shirt, the way his hair is down like it always is when he gardens. And finally, to meet his amused, green eyes.
“What exactly are you thinking about?” he asks, and I grin.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I reply.
“I’m nearly finished here, and then I will have a shower and cook if you want? And, maybe we can do whatever you were just thinking about?” he asks me.
“I can cook,” I tell him, and he nods, reaching out his dirt-covered hands to hold me.
“Err, nope. You are all dirty,” I say, making him chuckle.
“But, I want a dirty kiss from my girlfriend,” he says, standing up as I walk backwards. When I see the playful look in his eyes, I turn and run into the house. Hearing him laughing behind me all the way. I stop running when I get to the kitchen and put the baby monitor down on the side as baby girl sleeps. I’ve booked to register her birth in three days, and I still haven’t chosen a name. I don’t know why it seems so hard to do. I have a list of names, but none seem to suit her. I put some pasta on to boil and then get the ingredients out to make the cheese sauce. I’m grating cheese when my phone rings, and I pick up.
“Hello?” I ask, but no one answers. I look down at the number, seeing it’s unknown, and I keep getting these phones calls this week.
“Hello?” I ask again and still no reply. The phone goes dead, and I put it on the side. I doubt it’s anything other than someone selling something, or a dodgy line. I grate the cheese and add it to the sauce I’ve made as Harley comes into the kitchen. Harley’s hair is still slightly wet, hanging around his handsome face and he only has a pair of black, jogging trousers on, showing off his impressive chest.
“I checked baby girl, and she is fast asleep. What are you making?” he asks, coming over and sliding his hands around my waist.
“Cheese pasta,” I comment, as he kisses my cheek. “It’s going to be a little while, yet,” I tell him and turn off the heat. I drain the pasta while Harley watches, and mix it in with the sauce. I add it to a tray and put more grated cheese on top before placing the tray in the oven.
“Can I ask you to do something with me?” Harley asks me, and I turn to look at him after closing the oven.
“What’s up?” I ask. I know him well enough to see he is worried about something.
“Arthur gave me this note after I won the fights. It’s only an address, time, date, and a name I don’t recognise,” he says and hands the note to me. The address isn’t far from here, about forty minutes away, and the name ‘Julie Smith’ is written above it. At the bottom are tomorrow’s date and the time: two thirty.
“I Google searched the address, it’s a home for mentally ill people, a dodgy one at that,” Harley says with a confused look that matches mine.
“Why would he send you there?” I ask, having no clue what to make of it.
“That’s the point, I don’t know,” he says, and I hand the note back to him.
“Of course, I will go with you, I will ask my mum to come and sit with baby girl,” I comment, and he nods.
“Thank you, I doubt it’s anything, but I want you at my side, either way,” he tells me, and I lean up, kissing his cheek.
“Are you registering the baby’s name as baby girl?” he asks with a cheeky grin.
“No,” I say, chuckling.
“Okay, how about after we go to this tomorrow, we sit and go through names?” he asks, and I nod.
“I would love that,” I say.
“Harley, does it bother you that I have a daughter? That . . . well–” I blurt out, and he puts a finger to my lips.
“Can I tell you the truth?” he asks me and even though part of me doesn’t want to know, I still nod.
“A tiny part of me hates that she isn’t my daughter, not biologically, anyway. Another part of me wants to be like a dad to her. I hope one day you might let me adopt her, and marry you. I’m a hundred percent in this with you, and she comes with you. I’m not that kind of man, Tilly. I love you, and I love her, too,” he tells me, his voice strong and firm. There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t know how he feels.
“Harley,” I say with a sigh.
“You know I can’t have kids. That I want to adopt someday, it’s always been my plan. This was never my plan, but I’m a believer in fate. I think it’s fate that brought both of you to me, and I plan to keep you both happy and safe,” he tells me.
“Why don’t you come with me when I register her? I will never let Daniel near her, and I know you’re not her father, but you have been one to her since she was born. That means more,” I say.
“You mean that? I could bring my lawyer and formally adopt her that way,” he says, thinking about it.
“No one has to know she isn’t yours, Harley, if you’re on the birth certificate . . .,” I say, and he nods.
“If this is what you want,” he tells me, and I wrap my arms around him, resting my head against his chest.
“It is,” I whisper.
“We will have to tell her, someday, who her biological father really is and everything that happened. I don’t want her to hate us if she finds out any other way.”
“When she is older, we will tell her together,” I agree. I know I will have to tell my baby girl one day about her biological father, but she won’t able to understand the reasons I ran away from hi
m until she’s older. I just hope he never finds us, not just for our sake, but for Harley’s.
I know Harley would kill him if he came anywhere near me.
Chapter 26
Harley
“You never tell us anything about our mother,” I tell my father, as he lies back on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. I wouldn’t dare ask him anything about our mother if he wasn’t so drunk that he can’t stand up. I look at my pathetic excuse for a father; the dribble coming out of his mouth and the dazed eyes. I doubt it’s just alcohol in his system tonight.
“Your mother was smart and perfect for me to control,” he mumbles out.
“Did you love her? Why did she leave?” I ask him, and he laughs.
“I never loved her, only one girl was for me and–” he goes to answer and falls to sleep, his body falling onto the sofa. I wonder who the girl he loved was, and I hope she is far away from this mess of a man. When I look at my father, it makes more sense why my mother left, but I will never understand why she left us with him. What kind of mother would leave her children with a monster?
“This place looks rough,” Tilly says as I pull into the drive of the mental home. She must be thinking the same things as I am. The place doesn’t have a colour in sight, even the grass is dead, and the trees look like they are ill. The building is massive but looks like a reformed warehouse. There are gates to get into the driveway, and the building itself has moss growing all over it. Some of the windows look broken, and all of them have thick bars on the outside. There is a massive door with steps up to it, and I pull my car into the parking bay next to five other cars. I look over at Tilly, who I don’t even want to bring into this place. It looks like something out of a horror film, and the online pictures must have been years old because they had flowers and the pavement wasn’t cracked in them.
“You don’t have to come in, I know this place looks dodgy as hell,” I mutter, and she takes my hand, as I turn the car off and pull the keys out.
“I’m in this with you, remember?” she says, and I lift her hand, kissing it gently before we both get out of the car. I wrap my arm around Tilly’s waist as we walk up the steps, and I hold the door open for her. There is a big desk with stairs behind it, and several doors in the corridor. Everything is grey in here, much like the outside of the building. The woman behind the desk must be in her sixties, with long, grey hair and a nurse’s uniform on, but she matches the décor.
“Can I help you?” she asks me, and I smooth my suit down before answering her.
“Is there someone called Julia Smith here?” I ask, and she nods.
“Ah, you’re her visitor this week. Her frequent visitor told us you would be coming,” she says and picks up the old-fashioned phone. It looks close to falling apart, like most of the building if the cracks in the walls and holes in the floorboards are anything to go from. How is this place not shut down?
“Please write your names and sign here,” she says and hands me a pen. I write both mine and Tilly’s name down before I hand her back the pen. Tilly gives me a strange look, not knowing what is going on either, but we wait as the lady speaks to someone. The door to the left is opened, and a security man comes out. The man is young, with dark hair and a serious expression, dressed in a blue uniform.
“This way,” he says, holding the door open for us. I walk into the large room, which is full of windows that overlook the dead grass and dead trees. The place is dark, a few of the lights need replacing, and it looks in bad shape with bits of wallpaper falling off. The room is full of old and young people, who don’t look like they notice we have walked in at all. Most of the young people I see are just staring at their hands in their laps, and one girl with black hair is rocking back and forth in her seat. I pull Tilly closer to me with my hand, and she rests her head on my arm as neither of us know what to say about the sight we are seeing. Most are talking to themselves, some are playing cards or chess in the corners of the room, but no one is talking loud. There’s no noise in the room, and that’s the creepy part. I turn and watch as the security man locks the door behind us.
“Which one is Julia Smith?” I ask him, and he gives me a puzzled look. I guess it must be strange to have someone turn up for a visit and not know who they are looking for.
“You’re here for Julia? The woman is a little crazy, so don’t get too close. She tends to flip, and attack visitors, and you don’t want her doing that to your pretty girlfriend,” he says, and I glare at him. I don’t need a warning, and if Arthur was visiting this person, I respect her for trying to attack him, “Dude . . . just a warning,” he says holding his hands up. Tilly squeezes my hand to get my attention, and I force myself not to hurt the innocent security guard for being an idiot.
“Just show us,” I say, and he nods, moving in front of us and walking through the people in the room. I stop in my tracks when I see who he is pointing at. Sitting in a chair, looking out the window is an older version of the woman I have seen in photos. I can’t remember her as a child, but you would know your own mother anywhere. Even one that left when I was a child.
“Mother,” I say tightly, and I feel Tilly squeeze my hand in comfort. My mother doesn’t respond as she stares out the window in a haze. I don’t see anyone other than my mother as I walk forward and sit in the seat opposite her. When she finally turns to look at me, I see her green eyes and her brown hair which has started to go grey at the top. But, it’s her emotionless eyes that do me in.
“Who are you?” she asks me.
“Harley King,” I say, and she holds a hand out.
“Harley . . . I’m Julia, and I like your name,” she says, and I shake her hand. There wasn’t an ounce of recognition from her when I said my name. My mother’s name isn’t Julia.
“Do you not know who I am?” I ask her, letting go of Tilly’s hand and kneeling down, so I’m at her level, and she smiles.
“No, but you look familiar. Like a ghost,” she says and then laughs a little. “I like ghosts,” she adds, and I look over at the guard who watches us.
“I will be right back, Julia,” I tell her, and she nods, looking back out the window. I stand up and move closer to Tilly, who just watches.
“I’m going to find out what I can. Will you talk with her? See if she will tell you anything?” I whisper.
“Of course,” she says, knowing the story I had been told that my mother walked out on us all when I was a child. I don’t believe she did, not if she can’t remember us and is in a place like this. I look back once more at my mother, seeing the dazed look she is giving the window. I wonder how many drugs she is on.
“I want to know what happened to my mother to end her up in here. I’m her next of kin, and I thought she had just walked out on us as children. Not that she is clearly not in her right mind and in a mental hospital,” I tell the security guard, whose eyes widen.
“Look, I will take you to the boss, she will be the only one who can tell you anything. I’ve only been working here a few months, man,” the guy says and holds his hands in the air. I take a deep breath and nod at him. He opens the door for me and goes to talk to the old lady behind the desk who picks up the phone and rings someone.
“Go and watch my mother and girlfriend. If anything happens to them while I’m here, I will personally blame you,” I warn the man, who gulps and quickly goes back into the room. I pace the entrance hall for what seems like ages, but likely isn’t long, until an older woman walks down the stairs behind the desk. The woman has dark-brown hair, a serious expression, and is wearing a suit.
“I’m Mrs. Banna, you are Mr. King, I believe?” she asks me, and I nod. She hands me a folder and then gestures to the seat.
“Everything we have on Miss Julia Smith is in there, but I can run through what we know if you wish?” she asks me.
“Yes.” I nod curtly.
“I had just started working here when Julia was brought in. She had been found in a hospital, with no identity and a massive, head injury. T
hey say she was found washed up on a beach and when she woke up, with no knowledge of her name, they brought her here,” she tells me. I wonder what my father did to her, to have her end up on a beach with a head injury. I doubt she did it to herself, and my father was sick enough to do it.
“Why did you keep her here? If it was only a loss of memory? She isn’t crazy?” I ask her, and she shakes her head at me.
“Your mother has episodes where she attacks people randomly. She wakes up in the night screaming but can’t remember what was scaring her in her dreams when she wakes up. To be honest with you, if she had a family to go home to, it could happen, but until now . . .,” she says and doesn’t need to finish the sentence. She hasn’t had anyone until now.
“Arthur visits her, doesn’t he?” I ask.
“Yes, there’s a man who visits her. He visits a lot of the people here and is just a good man–” she says with a smile.
“He is not a good man and is likely the one who put my mother in here with help from my father,” I spit out, standing up. The woman looks shocked but doesn't know what to say to me.
“I will find a better place for my mother to stay, she can’t be left here. I will pay for it all to be sorted and to have her close to my home. Despite who my mother was, she is my mother and my responsibility,” I say, and the woman nods her understanding.
“I will also be calling my private doctor to have a look at her and see what medications she should be on. She looks out of it in there,” I comment.
“She is on–”
“I don’t want to know. I’m leaving,” I say and go to the room, banging on the door. The security man opens it up, giving me a nervous look as I walk over to Tilly and my mother. My mother is laughing a little at whatever Tilly is saying to her.
“Lovely girl,” she tells Tilly, holding her hand.
“It was lovely to meet you, Julia,” Tilly says.