by Roxy Wilson
“I know it must be hard being in here.”
“I’ve gotta get used to it,” I said idly, not realizing the implications until I saw Taryn flush pink. “I mean, I can’t let it haunt me forever,” I quickly added. “It’s better to deal with these things than let them fester.”
“Yeah. I mean—of course.”
She looked disappointed, and I didn’t know how to fix it. “I still miss her,” I blurted out instead, and Taryn’s expression turned to sympathy.
It wasn’t any better.
“Of course you do. She was your mom. I still remember the day it happened, too, y’know.”
She sounded haunted, connecting us in a way, and I felt myself lost to the memory again.
“The blood, the police everywhere, Anna screaming—”
Taryn, thankfully, interrupted my thoughts. “You were brave to come back and work here after that.”
I huffed a laugh. “This diner’s been a part of both our families forever. I guess I wanted to keep her presence here alive.”
I looked at the napkin scribbles on the wall behind Taryn. I hadn’t realized before, but one of them was mine—the wonky drawing of a boat on some waves, my name and the date scrawled underneath.
Taryn turned, following my eye-line, and smiled. “My way of keeping your presence here alive.”
The tightness in my throat made it impossible to speak. It felt like I was being choked by the pressure of memories piling up and up. I needed a distraction and I stood, leaning across the counter, sliding a hand into Taryn’s hair and drawing her towards me for a kiss.
She came eagerly, full of an aching sweetness. I savored her for a long moment, before tugging harder, kissing her more urgently.
“Someone will see,” she muttered against my mouth.
I didn’t care. I needed to drown out the memories with Taryn’s touch. “Fuck them.”
She pulled herself up onto the counter and swung her legs over the other side, seeming to decide she didn’t care either. I crowded her there, gripping the base of her back and pulling her to the edge where I pressed myself between her spread thighs.
I cupped the back of her head and kissed her again, pushing my tongue deep into her mouth like I was trying to get lost there. I was. Her taste felt like the only thing keeping me in the moment, and my hand in her hair held on so tight it had to be hurting her.
I tore my mouth away for a second, trying to apologize, but she grabbed the front of my t-shirt and yanked me back.
There wasn’t an inch of space between us, Taryn’s heel digging into my back to keep me against her. I kissed her, damp and wide open, and she slipped her hands under my shirt, the warmth of them raking across my sides and up the curve of my spine.
I felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen, my cock filling at the feel of Taryn like this, while the memories of my surroundings still tugged at me with ghostly tendrils, trying to drag me under.
Taryn framed my face with her hands. “Look at me.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d made that demand.
I did, breathing hard and staring into her dark eyes. She took my wrist, pressing my palm flat against her chest and urging it downwards, over the swell of her breasts and the flat of her stomach, and finally between her open thighs so I could feel how she was already soaking her underwear.
“It’s just you and me here,” she said. “Just like it used to be.”
I nodded, cupping my hand over the front of her panties and applying pressure there. Sex in the diner was something we used to have a lot of. When her parents left us in charge of the place, we’d shut up early and get off on the risk of being seen through the windows.
It was irresponsible and reckless and dumb as hell, but those were memories worth hanging on to.
Not the others—the blood, the death, the long years afterwards trying to come to terms with what had happened.
No. I pushed it out of my head, leaned in to capture Taryn’s mouth again, stroking over her pussy through the damp cotton until she started to arch her back at my teasing.
My fingers itched to be inside her. With a powerful, single-minded focus, I wanted nothing more than to watch her come apart right now.
I needed it.
I moved her underwear to the side and sunk two fingers into her, pulling the most incredible sound out of her lungs and into mine.
She broke the kiss to moan, and I buried my mouth against her throat, nuzzling her erratic pulse and sucking on her neck while I fucked her slowly and purposefully with my fingers.
The noises she made helped keep me grounded. Her heel against my back and her hands on my shoulders kept me with her.
Taryn clenched her muscles around my fingers, begged for more and faster and harder, and I obliged her eagerly, wanting nothing more than to see her lose her mind.
I realized that whatever she needed, I was prepared to give her—nonstop pleasure, a constant stream of apologies, all the honesty I can muster. For a man as selfish as myself, the thought was frightening.
“Mason,” Taryn said, and I looked at her, buried in her up to my knuckles.
“I’m gonna make you come like this,” I promised roughly, shattering the concern in her eyes for unbridled want.
She moaned again, tipping her head back and leaning back against the countertop with her palms keeping her steady, and I renewed my efforts to get her off, flicking the pad of my thumb across her clit as I fucked her.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the line of her bared throat or the rapid inhale-exhale of her chest, the sweat starting to pool in the dip between her collarbones and the damp gasp of her mouth.
She tightened around me, her muscles starting to flutter, and as she began to shake, straining to come, I ducked down and buried my head underneath the tiny skirt, sucking the tight bundle of nerves into my mouth.
“Oh my—” They were the only words she seemed capable of as her orgasm hit her, and then she simply groaned, spilling liquid from her pussy over my fingers and jerking against my mouth.
I stayed on her until she relaxed, and then I stood with a smirk, slipping my hand free from her.
“Think anybody saw?” I drawled.
Taryn laughed, wisps of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. “I seriously hope not.”
In my jeans, my cock strained for her. Her eyes raked down my body, zeroing in on the bulge between my legs.
“But just in case,” she said, hopping down off the counter and heading for the light switch.
She plunged the diner into darkness, only the streetlamp on the opposite sidewalk bathing the place in faint, ashy light.
Burnt out—gray and crumbling down—
Taryn stepped so easily back into my embrace, like she’d never left it.
Except she had. Sixteen and pregnant and all alone, the smell of burning still toxic in my nose for days. It had to be done, because I could see blood on the counter, on the table, on the linoleum—
“Mason?”
In the dark, the blood looked like a pool of shining black. Like oil. I felt bile rise in my throat, a scream tearing at my lungs, my mother—
The sudden overhead lights blinded me and Taryn was bright in front of my face. “Mason!”
I took a deep, shuddering breath and looked around. No blood, no fire, no ash. My hands were shaking; God, I felt like an idiot. I felt queasy. It was like waking up from one of my bad dreams, only I wasn’t sleeping. Ten seconds before I was hard and eager to sink into Taryn’s hot body, but my cock had lost all interest.
“I’m okay,” I quickly assured her, leaning against the counter.
“I knew this was a bad idea.”
“Taryn,” I snapped. “Don’t treat me like a traumatized fucking kid, all right?”
She held her hands up. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine, really.”
I wasn’t, and I didn’t even know why. All the things I’d done and a goddamn diner had defeated me, left me trembling and sick to my stomac
h. Maybe it came down to simple math: meticulous killing, I was good at; losing myself in sex, I was fucking great at; dealing with my internal emotional bullshit, and I became about as useful as a table with no legs.
“It’s okay if you’re not,” Taryn said lightly.
“Well, I am.”
She kept watching me, the scrutiny torturous, and I thought about leaving, getting away from it. It was what I did—left. It was easier than dealing with the fallout.
I found myself unable to move, though. The need to stay with her was stronger than the urge to flee.
“Look,” I said reasonably, trying to get that damn scrutiny off me. “Let’s just get outta here. Go and do something else.”
Taryn raised her eyebrows. “Like a… date?”
I scoffed, realizing that—yeah, I’d basically just asked her on a date. “If you wanna put a label on it.”
“Let’s not,” she said thoughtfully, and a stab of disappointment pierced my chest so suddenly I took a step back. She corrected herself quickly. “I meant let’s not put a label on it. But sure, we can get out of here.”
“Cool.” I nodded, stuffing my hands in my pockets.
We’d almost had sex again, but I couldn’t go back there so soon after my attack of—whatever that was. My nightmares invading my waking hours or something, my subconscious cock-blocking me like the piece of shit it was.
It felt good to get outside, into the warm evening air. I felt miles better with just one foot out the door.
“We could just go for a stroll?” Taryn suggested. “I can leave my car here.”
After my mom was murdered, I’d been paranoid for a long time about walking around town at night. Her murder chalked up to a robbery gone wrong, I’d seen criminals and thugs around every corner. In my eyes, everyone had a gun or a knife, everyone was out for blood.
I’d met Jay and his group of shady friends and learned to protect myself, and all over an invisible enemy who turned out to be a man who I’d respected more than most others; the man who’d seen my love of horses and hard work and offered to let me help out on his ranch for a few dollars every weekend, who’d treated me like a son despite having a son of his own. No stranger lurking in an alleyway, but a man who I had trusted.
“I still don’t like walking around here at night,” I admitted grudgingly, knowing Taryn deserved some insight into how I was feeling.
“I’ve got your back,” she said, grinning up at me.
It gave me a great idea all of a sudden, and I grabbed for her hand thoughtlessly. “Hey, come with me.”
I started pulling her in the direction of the park. The smile stayed firmly on her face, and she squeezed my hand right back, like she was completely fine with it.
We walked the short distance to the entrance of the local park. It was locked at this time of night, but a minute with a lockpick and I had the rusty iron gate screeching open.
“That’s quite a trick,” Taryn quipped, giving me a bemused look.
“What, you’re not gonna tell me off?”
She shrugged. “Depends on what nefarious reason you brought me here for.”
I led her to the wooded play area and onto the soft green flooring there, and then I stood, my legs parted in a fighting stance.
Taryn raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna… fight me?”
“The lighting’s not great, but I figured I’d teach you a few self-defense techniques.”
Without the glare from the main streets, the night sky here was clearer and the stars more visible. The distant park pathways were scattered with low-light streetlamps, giving the play area a very faint, almost ethereal glow.
It was enough for the basics, though.
“Okay,” Taryn said, breaking into a smile. “That sounds fun.”
“Right.” I put my hands on her shoulders, turning her just off-side. “This is how you put more power in your punches.” I nudged her feet apart, guiding her to the right stance. “Make a fist for me.” She did, and I stepped behind her, gripping her wrist gently and drawing her arm back. “You wanna swing all the way through, putting all that momentum behind it.”
I showed her how a couple times, pressing my chest against her back and moving with her, feeling the measured in and out of every breath and the joint stretch of our muscles.
She did it just fine as I supervised, and I moved onto elbows and knees, where to angle a hit to put a guy on his knees.
“What if I get grabbed?” she asked, breathing a little harder now.
“I’ll show you.”
Sweat prickled along my forehead in the heavy summer night air. I walked behind her, stepping forward and wrapping my arms tightly around her in a bear hug.
“First thing,” I told her, muttering into her ear. I watched the flesh of her throat rise into goose pimples and I wanted to smile at the effect I had on her. “Jam your heel back into his calf and the top of his foot as hard as you can.”
She did the motions slowly, the heel of her tennis shoe raking down the front of my leg. “Like that?”
“Just like that.”
I leaned against her, heavier. My hands spread around her body, my face pressed into her sweet-smelling hair. I held her to my chest, her small figure in my arms, fitting too perfectly.
“What if he still doesn’t let me go?” she asked softly, turning her head at an angle so I could see her moonlit profile.
My mouth found her ear. “Then, I’ll kill the fucker.”
Her breath hitched and I felt it under my palms. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“I know,” I said guiltily. “It scares you, I know that—”
“No,” she interrupted, sounding strained and uncomfortable at what she was admitting. “It doesn’t scare me.”
“I would.” I squeezed her tighter, and instead of a sexual impulse, I felt a protective one. A possessive one. If anyone ever tried to hurt her, I’d honestly kill them where they stood. I couldn’t bear the thought of it—it clutched at me like those memories of the diner. “They’d be sorry.”
Taryn sighed. “How would you even know if anything happened to me?”
I tipped my forehead to the top of her head and sighed. I had no answer for that, and it took the wind right out of my sails.
She was right, I hadn’t been here for the past ten years, and in what realistic world could I ever be here in the future? My feelings of protectiveness didn’t change the fact that it was just words, meant to convey some kind of pipe dream.
I’d had too many of those recently. Empty words and empty dreams. I wasn’t much fond of either.
“If he doesn’t let go,” I went on, my voice lighter, “drop your weight as hard as possible to unbalance him.” She threw down her weight and broke my hold on her, spinning out of my grip to stand a few feet away. “This would be the part where you run away as fast as you can.”
Taryn’s dark eyes watched me soulfully. “I never could run all that fast.”
“That makes you vulnerable.”
“Don’t I know it.”
I kicked a pebble away, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “We should get outta here. Before some real thugs come along and make trouble.”
Taryn sighed and we fell into step, some distance between us now.
“I’ll walk you back to your car,” I told her.
“No need. I can defend myself now,” she said dryly.
I chuckled. “All the same, I think I’d rather be sure.”
We strolled back to the diner, and I saw Taryn into her car, closing the door for her.
She wound down the window, looking like she didn’t want to drive away from me, and I almost said something, made a pass, asked to go with her, something, but I stood silently. It was safer that I didn’t, the introspective way I was feeling. I might have said or done something to upset this fragile balance we’d created.
I merely gave Taryn a parting smile and stepped back. “See you.”
“Yeah,” she said softly.
And then she was gone. And I was alone in front of that dark diner, those memories fainter but still ever-present, wishing I had spoken up, wishing for more damn time.
Chapter Seven
Taryn
Justin looked at me with sympathy.
I didn’t appreciate it.
“Look,” I tried to explain. “I’m fine. Really.” He didn’t look like he believed me. “I’m fine. So my ex came back from the dead, told me he was a killer and a hitman, and dropped the news that my best friend’s husband was on a hit list. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”
Justin pursed his mouth. “Hmm.”
I sighed; even I didn’t buy that. “Okay, it sucks, but seriously, I’m okay.”
I watched Daisy run around the play area with the other kids. We’d come out for lunch to the place by the lake, taking an outdoor seat to enjoy the sunshine, but the barely touched remnants of my sandwich sat filling the plate in front of me and I pushed it aside.
Justin, of course, picked right up on that. “You never leave food.”
“I had a large breakfast.”
“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”
I did know that, and I’d already told him about Ethan, about Mason’s career trajectory, about Mr. Foster killing Mason and Anna’s mother. I sighed again, leaning my forehead against my hand. I knew I couldn’t hide the other little detail forever, not when I was so torn up about it and Justin knew me too damn well.
“We’ve been sleeping together,” I said flatly. Justin was silent and I couldn’t look at him, studying my uneaten sandwich instead. “It’s happened twice now, and it almost happened again the other night. Well, it kinda did happen. He used his—”
Justin threw up a hand in defense. “I don’t need to know the details!”
“Right.”
“You know that twice is a coincidence,” Justin said frantically. “Three times is the pattern, that’s the real kicker, and it doesn’t count if it’s only kinda so, really, all you have to do is stay away from him and not let his dick near you again and you’re fine, you’re not officially sleeping together.”
I raised an eyebrow in exasperation. “Are we in tenth grade all of a sudden?”