Stolen in Love

by G. G. Andrew

  He needed to be in her. Now.

  With a grunt, he reached to grab a condom from the nightstand, but she grabbed his hand. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Need all of you.”

  The words made sense only to his body, which didn’t care that a condom wasn’t a subtraction and just wanted Kim now, and hard, and without anything between them—especially when a wedge seemed to be growing between them in the daytime with all the things unasked and unanswerable. Maybe that’s what she meant. Either way, he raised one of her ankles over his shoulder and satisfied her with one powerful thrust which left her gasping.

  “Scott…” Her fingernails bit into his shoulders as he thrusted into her again. And again. She arched into him, and her hands fumbled to hold onto the bedpost above her head. In the dark, she was exquisite. Dark eyes and pale skin, tousled hair and lips colored only by moonlight.

  His own breath had been ragged for several minutes, but he realized there in the dark it turned strange. It sounded almost panicked, like he wouldn’t be able to get enough air. Enough something. He filled Kim Xavier, and she whispered for more, more, and he drove into her quicker and harder, like he was trying to race something much faster than him. His left hand fisted the sheet and his right hand gripped her leg and he was going to lose her.

  He could take her apart underneath him at night, but in every other way Kim Xavier would never shake out all her secrets. She had them, tiny and large, and though she’d doled out a few to him, there could be more where that came from. Boxes and boxes. She made decisions he didn’t understand, fought impulses he couldn’t fathom, forged her own path—even if that path would lead her away from him.

  He suspected that their kisses were so sweet because they were never meant to last.

  She screamed when she came; her own shudders vibrated against his body. He spilled into her moments later, jerking as deep as he could. His own orgasm didn’t feel so much like gentle waves of pleasure as much as it was a wave breaking against a sharp cliff, a hot, hard slap of a release, powerful and brutal.

  When he pulled away, they both fell asleep without saying a word.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Kim

  Scott was there when Kim woke to bright sunlight pouring in the windows.

  “Good morning.” He was already dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed—in fact, he was already in uniform, his hair washed and combed.

  “What time is it?” she said, swiping her hair out of her face. “God, how long did I sleep?”

  “A while.” The corner of Scott’s mouth lifted up. “It’s almost noon. I got called into work early. Any chance you can watch Lily? She’s home from preschool.”

  Dust motes floated in the air between them, and the sheet covering her felt warm from the sun. Kim could’ve probably slept two more hours, pathetic as that was, but she shook herself awake. “Of course. Just give me ten minutes.”

  She untangled herself from the sheet and took a five-minute shower, brushed her teeth, and donned a light blue polka dot sundress that, along with her red lipstick, gave her a vintage look she liked.

  Almost human, she thought as she exited the bathroom and went to take over for Scott so he could leave. But as she stepped across the threshold into the master bedroom, a wave of nausea and dizziness hit her. “Oh.” She slapped her hand on the doorframe. For a split-second, she’d sworn the bathroom tile had been about to rise up and greet her.

  “Everything okay?” Scott was still in the bedroom, putting his duty belt on.

  Kim shook her head. “Yeah. I think so.” She released her hand and tentatively walked forward. “Just a little sick to my stomach.”

  “You probably need to eat something.” Casting a glance at her, Scott peered into her face. “You look a little pale. You sure you’re okay to watch Lily?”

  “I’m fine.” Kim slipped into her sandals by the door. “You’re right, I probably just need to eat something.”

  But Scott looked concerned, and as she sought out Lily, she overhead him talking on the phone to Bette.

  Lily was in the kitchen, coloring a picture of an elephant.

  “Good morning, Lil.” Kim grabbed a cereal box from the shelf and carried it to the table. She scooped out a handful of cereal and started munching on it. “What are you making?”

  “An elephant family.”

  “Oh. Do elephants have families?”

  Lily looked up, incredulous. “Well, yeah.”

  Kim nodded and grabbed another handful of cereal as Scott walked in.

  “I called Bette,” he said. “She can come help you out, but she can’t be here until later this afternoon. Do you think you’ll be okay until then?”

  “Sure,” Kim said. “We’ll be fine, right, Lily?”

  Lily nodded at her design, and added, sounding like she was completely over adults at the moment, “We’ll be fine.”

  Kim smiled up at Scott. “See?”

  “I see.” He smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He kissed them both goodbye on the head and headed to the station.

  He’d acted strange a few times that week, and Kim wasn’t sure if it was the case or her. Maybe he was worried for her, or maybe he was just getting tired of her staying over. Though he’d been no less enthused in bed. If anything, last night he’d taken her like a man fresh out of prison—not that she had any experience with that, except for that one time.

  She knew the score. She didn’t deserve to be with someone like Scott, but he’d been acting like he not only wanted her, but cared for her. Maybe that was wearing thin though.

  Kim didn’t want to think about it. When she thought about it, she got a stomachache. Maybe that’s why she’d felt nauseated that morning. Despite the fear of Viktor still being out there and possibly working with an accomplice, she’d been happier lately than she’d ever remembered being. Like she could have some version of the normal life others had. In so many places she was just her addiction, her record, her problems. With the Culpeppers and while contacting the women on that list with Destani, she felt like she was, and wanted to be, so much more.

  She shook her thoughts away and grabbed some more cereal. “Lily, we need some fresh air.”

  The day was beautiful, so they gathered some sandwiches and snacks and headed to the beach in West Haven. On a bench at a park there, they ate cheese on rye—Lily’s favorite—and apples and carrot sticks. Then they walked down to the shoreline. The sun was out, but a breeze had kicked up, and it whipped their hair around their faces and made Lily giggle.

  Kim smiled, thinking that despite sky-high parental expectations and people like Taylor Stiles and the jerks at those Yale parties, New England in springtime wasn’t half bad.

  She nibbled on a cookie they’d brought, trailing Lily as she walked out onto a dock towards where the baby blue sky met the choppy waters. Gulls soared overhead. Her stomach was better too. It seemed better after she’d eaten, actually. She was even still hungry now, wondering if they could make a stop at the local fried fish shop after they left the beach, and then maybe they could—

  Her jaw fell open. She dropped the cookie. “Shit.”

  Luckily, Lily was too far ahead to hear her curse. Or the sudden pounding of Kim’s heart.

  She was sick to her stomach. She was hungry. She was really, really hungry. She was tired and sleeping all the time. She was—she was—could she be pregnant?

  She bit her lip as she did some quick calculations. She probably should’ve been getting her period this week, but she wasn’t super late yet. Maybe just two days. Four at the most. Or five. Nothing too dramatic. She was at least a week off from needing to worry.

  “Hey, Lily,” she called down the dock. “You want to run an errand?”

  The girl was getting too much sun on her cheeks anyway. She pulled her by the hand to the car, bribing her with ice cream on the way home. “We’re just going to make a quick stop at the drugstore,” Kim explained. She was never good at waiting.

  A
t the drugstore on the way home, she had Lily look at the toys while she purchased a pregnancy test and asked the cashier for the restroom.

  She took Scott’s daughter by the hand to a small bathroom in the back covered in graffiti. Locking the door, she gave Lily her cell to play games on while she went into the single stall. It wasn’t her first time peeing on a stick, but it was certainly the ugliest bathroom she’d done it in.

  Her heart hammered again while she waited the three minutes for the stick to determine her fate. She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or excitement. On one hand, the thought of having a baby with Scott made her feel that dizzying sort of euphoria you get when a roller coaster nosedives. On the other hand, what would he think? This wasn’t his first time at the baby rodeo. In fact, he said he’d met Lily’s mother and conceived her quickly too. He’d described Alexa as impetuous and irresponsible—not exactly like Kim, but not her polar opposite, either.

  What was that he’d said when she’d asked him about their relationship? It probably wouldn’t have lasted, anyway.

  Kim’s stomach dropped and she glanced back at the stick. Pregnant, it read.

  Her breath came heavy and fast—too fast—but she wadded up the box and instructions and stuffed them in her purse with the test. She would need to read it later, again and again.

  “You okay, Lily?” she called, feeling very, very outside herself.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be right out!” Kim smoothed down her dress, flushed the toilet, and came out of the stall.

  What was she going to do?

  She washed her hands quickly and leaned down beside the girl. “How about a treat? Do you want something pretty for your hair?”

  “Can we still get ice cream, too?”

  “Sure.”

  Clasping her sweaty hand in the girl’s cool one, Kim took a shaky breath and led her back out into the store and down the hair aisle. Lily became enamored with the glittery headbands while Kim stood by, wrapping her arms around herself and trying to slow her breaths by breathing in and out to a count of ten.

  Pregnant. Pregnant. With Scott’s baby.

  What would she tell him? When would she tell him?

  How could she possibly have a baby?

  Her breath whooshed out and she hugged herself tighter. It wasn’t helping. She was unraveling, and she had to take care of Lily. She couldn’t lose her shit.

  She took a step back but hit the aisle behind. Wheeling around, she saw she’d grazed the barrette section. A row of tortoise shell clips was moving from her disruption, shining in the fluorescent store light.

  Her breath became even as she watched them. They weren’t really her style, but the shade was very pretty, the gold and brown colors blending into one another.

  Without knowing what she intended, she reached a hand out to them. Slid the tip of her forefinger down the cool plastic. Unhooked it from the rack. Felt the light weight of it in her palm.

  With her free hand, she undid the top clasp of her purse.

  She was barely aware of her hand moving the barrette closer to her bag—she’d felt barely aware of her surroundings for the past half hour. The shock of her suspicions, and the confirmation of them, made her feel like the world was an invisible sea she was trying not to drown in. She put one foot in front of the other, and she was putting this in her purse, and it was all the same; it was to survive, to get through, and how could she do anything else?

  A hand touched hers, and she woke up.

  Gasping, she looked into a pair of blue eyes—Scott’s eyes, except they weren’t Scott’s.

  “Lily?” her voice wavered.

  The little girl was looking right at her, her eyes large and calm. “You don’t need to do that,” she said, and patted Kim’s hand.

  Kim sucked in a breath, and out came a sob. She dropped to her knees. “Lily,” she said, and pulled the girl in for a hug.

  She squeezed the girl for so long she started squirming, so Kim let her go and bought her a glittering headband, and then an ice cream cone—two scoops—on the way home. She managed to keep the tears from falling, but she bit her lip twice so hard it bled to do it.

  Children are very impressionable, Bette had told her. They watch what you’re doing, even when you think they’re not. They learn from it.

  As she’d hoped, Bette’s car was at Scott’s when they arrived.

  “I’m not feeling really well,” Kim said to her after they said their hellos. “Do you mind if I leave Lily here while I go out?”

  “That’s fine. Scott told me you were under the weather,” Bette said. “Do you want to go lie down here? I’ll keep Lily quiet.”

  “That’s okay,” she said quickly. “I think I just want to—go.”

  “Okay,” the older woman said, her face crinkled in confusion.

  Without saying another word, Kim turned on her heel and got the hell out of there.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Scott

  Since he’d come to work early, Scott left the station in the evening and pulled into the driveway as the sun was going down.

  Lily ran to him in her pajamas, excited to see him home at bedtime for once. He picked her up and gave her a kiss on her tiny nose.

  “Ooh, gross!” Lily squealed.

  “Where’s Kim?” he asked Bette, who leaned in the doorway from the kitchen. By the smell, he could tell they’d had spaghetti for dinner again.

  “Said she wasn’t feeling well,” she explained. “She asked if I could watch Lily and got out of here really fast. Even left her purse.” Bette nodded to the table by the front door, where Kim’s bag sat.

  “Where’d she go?”

  Bette shrugged.

  “Huh.” Scott set Lily down. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

  “No!”

  “Yes.” He walked Lily to her room and read her two stories, but he was distracted the entire time by thoughts of Kim. Maybe she was sick, but then why hadn’t she stayed there?

  Maybe she’d gone to Laurel’s.

  After he kissed Lily goodnight, shut off her light, and closed her bedroom door, he sent a quick text to Kim and then Laurel. A minute later, a response came back, but only from Kim’s sister. Kim wasn’t there, and why didn’t he know where she was and was she fine? Scott stifled a groan and replied that she was fine, and not to worry. He didn’t bother contacting the Xaviers.

  He walked out into the living room. “Bette, can you stay here a couple more hours? I need to see where Kim’s gone.”

  “Sure. I might as well stay the night.” Bette arranged the pillows behind her and picked up the remote.

  Still in uniform, he grabbed Kim’s bag and left.

  He wasn’t quite consumed with worry yet, so before he started his car, he did something totally stupid or incredibly wise—he wasn’t sure which. He turned on the car’s overhead light and looked at Kim’s purse. Exhaling, he grabbed it and reached a hand in, rummaging through the contents.

  His hand touched sunglasses, a few loose tissues, her wallet, some kind of box. His shoulders almost relaxed with relief—but then he felt a sharp poke. He felt around its edge, then pulled it out. A tiny ballerina covered in gold glitter and pink connected to a sharp stick like it was meant to be stabbed into a cupcake.

  “Damn it.” Taylor Stiles was right. Kim had stolen this. If she’d taken it for Lily, she would’ve given it to her—probably at the party, probably without pilfering it away.

  She wasn’t over her addiction. Despite how far she’d come, how happy they’d been together, she was still doing it. Scott wondered if she’d ever stop.

  On his way to Kim’s apartment, he called her, but only got her voicemail. If she wasn’t at Laurel’s, and she wasn’t at work, she had to be there.

  Sure enough, at her apartment complex, her car was parked in the middle of the lot. What was she doing here—transferring more stolen goods to her boxes under the bed?

  His hand clutching her purse, he got out and strode up the s
teps to her apartment. When he reached her door, he knocked loudly.

  “Kim, open up.”

  Rustling came from inside, and a moment later she appeared, her eyes wide. She wore the polka dot sundress she’d put on that morning, but it was incongruous with her pale face and the stunned look in her gaze. Weirdly, she held a large white trash bag.

  “Why aren’t you at work?” she asked.

  “I got off early.” He pushed open the door to see what she was doing, and the hair on his arms stood on end.

  Some of her furniture had been righted, but her kitchen table was covered in pieces of jewelry, hair accessories, and other trinkets. It looked like a damn rummage sale. He knew even before he spied the empty tampon boxes on the floor where they’d come from. Was she counting her loot, like a child after a long night of trick or treating?

  “What are you doing?” He glanced away from the table.

  Her voice was weak. “Cleaning. Sort of.”

  “You left your purse at the house.” His grip on it tightened, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Why’d you do it, Kim? Taylor Stiles told me the other day you took a ballerina from the tea party, but I didn’t believe it. Didn’t want to.”

  She blanched, but her eyes fell to her bag.

  “Yes, I looked. I had to know, okay?” He set the damn purse down on the table, not caring when it made a lip gloss roll off and clank to the floor. “That was a child’s party, Kim. Full of kids. My kid. Did she see you do this?”

  “No.”

  “There’s not a time nor place where this behavior is appropriate, but this was the one of the last places you should’ve done this.”

  She dropped the trash bag she held. “Scott, listen to me—”

  He held up a hand. He didn’t want excuses, he just wanted her not to steal—not to steal at a tea party for little girls, for Chrissake—but then he spotted something on the table.

  Round and silvery, it caught the light more than the other objects. It wasn’t a barrette.