Clean Slate

by Isla Olsen

  “Is anyone else around?” I ask warily.

  He shakes his head. “Mom’s at work and Jesse went home this morning.”

  I nod and follow him inside.

  “Should I be worried you don’t want any witnesses around?” Zack teases, arching an eyebrow at me.

  I let out a soft chuckle. “I just want us to talk privately. That’s all.”

  When we get to the kitchen at the back of the house, Zack turns to face me. “So…what do you want to talk about?”

  I hesitate for a moment, trying to find my words. I’ve never really been great with words—that was always Zack’s department—so rather than making some grand, sweeping speech, I decide to start with something simple. “I’m sorry about yesterday.” When he doesn’t say anything, I continue, “Look, I know what I said about this thing just being a casual, vacation fling. But I also know that you know I never actually meant that.” I pause for a moment, waiting for him to nod. “I thought I could be cool about the whole thing and just take whatever you’d give me, but yesterday with all that talk about leaving, it just…hit a nerve. And I kind of overreacted,” I finish with a shrug.

  “I hit a nerve?” he asks incredulously. “You’re the one who ended things back then.”

  “Because you were leaving,” I throw back, not realizing until this moment just how much hurt I’ve been carrying around about his decision to go to school so far away.

  “We were going to do long distance.”

  I let out a soft sigh, shaking my head. “When has long distance ever worked?”

  Fixing me with the kind of intense look that makes me stagger back a step, he says, “We would have made it work. Because it was us. You and me. We could have done it, Slater. But then you decided it wasn’t enough. You decided to give up before we even tried.”

  “I did what I thought was best,” I say softly.

  “And broke my fucking heart in the process,” Zack says, bitterness evident in his tone.

  I have to glance away for a moment, drawing in a deep breath as I let the weight of his words settle over me. Does he think my heart wasn’t in pieces as well? Making that decision almost ended me. Not to mention what happened a few weeks later…

  Finally, I manage to meet Zack’s gaze again, my voice hoarse as I say, “For someone with such a broken heart, you seemed to move on pretty damn fast.”

  Zack shakes his head, his brows drawn in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I sigh. “It took me all of a week to realize what a fucking idiot I’d been, and then another two to work up the nerve to come see you at school.”

  “You never came to see me at school…”

  I nod, insisting, “I did. And I saw you with a guy. You seemed…happy. Really happy. And it was clear to me you’d moved on. I figured I’d already hurt you enough, I didn’t want to get in the way of you being happy.” I glance away, my throat tight as I continue, “That’s all I wanted for you. So, as much as it killed me, I walked away.”

  Zack blinks at me a few times, his expression still full of confusion. “Slater, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t dating anyone those first few weeks of college.”

  I shake my head adamantly. “I saw you,” I insist. “It was a tall guy. He was wearing a red hoodie and a Blackhawks cap, and he had his arm around you. And you were just…so happy.”

  Zack stares at me for a long moment, before throwing his hands up in frustration and crying, “Jesus Christ, Slater. That was Lawson!”

  My brow furrows in confusion as I try to think back to that day. Surely it couldn’t have been…I would have recognized him…

  But as I picture that guy and then mentally add twelve years, I realize it’s true. The likeness is unmistakable.

  Zack must see the realization on my face, because he lets out a soft groan and throws his head back. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you actually telling me if it weren’t for Law we’d have worked all this shit out twelve years ago?”

  I offer a hesitant smile. “Is that you admitting you’d have taken me back?”

  He shakes his head wryly and steps toward me. His eyes are narrowed, but there’s a hint of a smile curving his lips. “I like to think I would have made you grovel. A lot. But, truthfully, I’d have taken you back in a second.”

  I move even closer, resting my hands at his waist and tilting my head down to catch his lips in a soft kiss. I still have no idea where this is going—if it’s even going anywhere—but if he’s leaving tomorrow I plan to make the most of every moment we have tonight.

  “Come with me,” I tell him, linking my fingers through his and leading him toward the door.

  “Where?”

  I offer a secretive smile. “You’ll see.”

  16

  Post by Chance Kingsley: Due to a recent uptick in my caseload I will no longer be taking on animals as clients

  Alice Ackerman reply to Chance Kingsley: But Fifi needs representation! She’s about to lose her children!

  Missy Clarke reply to Alice Ackerman’s comment: I feel for you, Alice. It’s just like that movie with Sally Field *crying emoji*

  Beth Bowry reply to Missy Clarke’s comment: If you’re talking about Not Without My Daughter I think you need to give that a re-watch Missy

  Irene Henderson reply to Chance Kingsley’s post: Will you still take cases with an animal defendant? My fish has been looking at me real funny lately. I don’t think it’s coincidence my arthritis is playing up worse than before!

  * * *

  Zack

  * * *

  “Should I be worried that you might taking me to some far off location to kill me?” I joke as Slater drives us farther away from town.

  He grins. “Don’t worry. If I were planning to kill you, I wouldn’t be driving to a property I own. That’s just a huge smoking gun.”

  My brows shoot up. “You own property out here?”

  “Uh huh.”

  I take a new interest in the landscape outside my window. It’s hard to see in the dark, but it appears we’re driving past a series of vineyards and apple orchards. I know Slater’s uncle Rock owns an orchard about twenty-five minutes outside town; I wonder if we’re headed anywhere near there.

  “Is your property near Rock’s?”

  “Yeah, it’s on his land. Or, at least, what used to be his land,” Slater explains. “He divided a little section off and sold it to me a few years ago.”

  After a few more minutes, Slater turns off the highway and onto a dirt road that even in the dark I can recognize as the entrance road to Crimson Grove, Rock’s orchard. But instead of driving all the way to the gate, Slater veers off again, this time onto an even rockier path that tests the no doubt excellent suspension of his truck’s tires.

  We finally pull up in front of a two-story weatherboard house that seems somehow both familiar and completely foreign at the same time. Slater turns off the engine and we get out of the truck. Glancing around at my surroundings, I strain through the darkness to try to get my bearings, attempting to figure out what seems so familiar about this place. And, finally, it hits me.

  “Oh my god. Is this the haunted house?”

  Slater chuckles. “Not haunted anymore. Not that it ever really was…”

  This house was the original homestead on the orchard, dating back to gold rush times. For whatever reason, at some point in the twentieth century one of the previous owners decided they didn’t like the position of this house and built a newer one way over on the other side of the property. This house had been left to basically rot, although when Rock bought the orchard he’d made sure it was at least safe enough for his nieces and nephews to hang out in there without fear of injury. Thinking back now, it probably wasn’t the most child-friendly play area…but we all survived, so I guess that’s the main thing.

  My gaze is filtered by memory as I look up at the house. It has definitely changed a lot since the last time I saw it, which I have to assume is Sl
ater’s doing. From what I can see in the darkness, it no longer looks completely dilapidated on the outside, but rather a little unfinished. There’s plastic sheeting covering one top corner and several windows, and there’s a safety platform set up for the top floor. What is finished, though, looks new and pristine.

  “Jeez, this looks amazing, Slater,” I say, awe in my voice. “It’s going to be incredible when it’s done.”

  “Hopefully.”

  I tear my gaze from the house and offer a quirk of my lips. “Can I see inside?”

  “It’s not really safe inside. Half the floor is missing.”

  I step toward him, reaching out to run my hands down his sides. “Damn, and here I was hoping for a real-life Notebook moment.”

  He lets out a soft chuckle. “I can grow a beard if that’d make you happy.”

  A harsh growl escapes me and I bring my hands up to cup his cleanly-shaven cheeks. “Don’t even think about it.”

  His lips are on mine in an instant, his arms circling my waist and tugging me close against him. I groan into his mouth as his tongue pushes past my lips to clash with mine. Heat consumes my entire body as we devour each other, my hands sliding into his hair and clinging tight. I couldn’t let go right now if I wanted to.

  Slater takes a few steps back, bringing me with him as he stumbles backward through the open passenger door of the truck and props himself on the seat. I try to climb up on his lap, but it’s awkward and cramped, and even with Slater’s hands on my ass I can’t get a secure position.

  Finally, he tears his lips from mine, letting out a groan of frustration. “Fuck. This isn’t…we can’t…not here…”

  For a horrifying second, I think he’s going to suggest we drive all the way back into town, but then he gently prompts me to hop back to the ground, before jumping down himself and grabbing my hand in a firm grip. He tugs me away from the truck and around the side of the house, where I can see a smaller structure about a hundred yards away. The old barn.

  As we approach, I realize that, unlike the house, the refurbishment of the barn has already been completed. It even has power connected, which is evident when Slater lets go of my hand to slide the giant door open, before taking a few steps to the side to flick a light switch.

  As light floods the barn, I can see it’s now very different to the old structure I remember. The ancient animal stalls are gone, as are all the holes in the wall and in the roof.

  “This is my workroom,” Slater says, gesturing to the area around us.

  I offer a wry smile at his rather redundant words. From the wall of tools set up on one side, as well as the large oak workbench, not to mention several pieces of handcrafted furniture at the back of the room, I’d already guessed he wasn’t using this space to host drag shows.

  “It looks great,” I tell him honestly. “But I thought you and Web were going into business together? Are you sharing this place?” It’s definitely an impressive set up, but it doesn’t really seem big enough for the kind of scale of projects Web and Slater have been talking about.

  Slater shakes his head. “No, this is just for me. A side gig, or hobby, or whatever you want to call it.”

  I turn to face him, offering a smile full of all the pride and affection I’m feeling. “It’s amazing.”

  His cheeks burn pink at my praise and he ducks his head modestly before lifting his gaze to mine again. His eyes are burning with the kind of anticipation that has nerves crackling through my whole body. “Come on. I haven’t even shown you the best part.” He takes my hand again and tugs me gently toward the back of the barn, letting go only when we get to the ladder that reaches up to the loft.

  Slater climbs up and I follow after him, emerging to find what appears to be a little apartment. Wooden railing—no doubt handcrafted by Slater himself—adorns the loft’s edge, all the way along except for a small opening for the ladder, giving the loft the feel of being completely separate from the rest of the barn despite the fact it’s still open space. Like the room below, the loft has been completely refurbished, with hardwood floors, painted walls, down lights in the raked ceiling, and—judging by what I can see through the slightly cracked door—a small bathroom on one side. The rest of the space is a studio bedroom, complete with a neatly made queen bed.

  After scanning my eyes around the room and taking everything in, I turn my gaze back to Slater, my brows raised. “You stay here often?”

  The corner of his mouth quirks up. “I do, actually. I’m out here most weekends, either working on the house or in my workroom. Rock was really good about letting me crash at his place when I first started the house, but I like my own space…”

  “Well, it’s definitely pimped out pretty nicely.”

  He chuckles. “You should have seen it a few years ago. It was basically just a mattress and a sleeping bag.”

  My nose screws up in distaste. “Yeah, I’m not sorry I missed that.”

  Slater grins and steps toward me, linking his arms around my waist and pulling me close. “You know, I’ve always wanted to have sex up here,” he murmurs, dropping his head to trail kisses along my jaw. “Ever since those hand jobs back in tenth grade.”

  I grin at the memory; we’d been hanging at the old house—drinking beer, if memory serves—and Slater and I had sneaked away from the group so we could fool around in the barn. Right here in this very loft.

  His hands find their way to my ass and he urges me even closer. I groan at the feel of his hard cock pressing against mine, my arms flying up to clutch at his neck.

  “As much as I hate all this time we’ve missed, I’m glad we waited to do it in a bed,” Slater chuckles. I shudder in his arms as his hot breath tickles my neck. “Not that I wouldn’t still want you if there wasn’t one. Fuck, Zack...” He kisses my neck. “Any time, any place…” His lips move to my throat. “You’re all I want.”

  I grab a fistful of Slater’s hair and yank his head up, slamming my lips to his. He responds instantly, groaning into my mouth as the kiss deepens and our tongues twine together.

  I’m barely cognizant of the fact that we’re moving across the room, or that we’re losing our clothing in the process; all I know is that I’m desperate for Slater. His lips, his skin, the heat of his body…I need it all, and I sure as hell can’t focus on anything else right now. So when I’m tossed down and feel the soft landing of the mattress underneath me, I find myself staring up at Slater in surprise.

  “We’re on the bed.”

  His brows shoot up, the corner of his mouth quirking in a wry smile. “Yep.”

  I blink in confusion. “I don’t remember moving to the bed.”

  He grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He drops his head and claims my lips again.

  I wrap my legs around his waist, lifting my hips to meet his downward thrusts as he grinds his cock against mine. My hands roam desperately over the bare skin of his back, feeling hard, rippling muscle under my fingertips.

  I tear my lips from his, tossing my head back with a breathless groan. “Slate…Jesus…” I need to slow down. If we keep going like this I’m going to blow in a matter of minutes.

  But slowing down isn’t really Slater’s style, and I’ve barely caught my breath before he’s moving down my body and sliding his tongue around one of my nipples. Fuck…when did my shirt come off? When did his shirt come off?

  I dash the thought away, groaning as he gently tugs my nipple between his teeth, one of his hands coming up to tease the other one.

  “Jesus, Slater,” I gasp. “I need…I need…”

  He finally pulls off my nipple and lifts his head to cast me a sexy grin. “I know exactly what you need, babe.”

  I feel bereft for a moment when he rolls away from me, but I quickly realize it’s only so he can rummage through a little cupboard that’s set next to the bed, ultimately retrieving a bottle of lube. My brain clears enough for me to realize I’m still in my jeans, so I hastily scramble out of them and my boxer briefs just in
time for Slater’s return to the bed.

  He stands by the bed just staring at me for a moment, his eyes full of appreciation and burning desire. “You are so fucking beautiful, Zack.”

  There’s a hoarse quality to his voice that reveals an emotion I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with, so as wonderful as his words make me feel, I decide to brush past them for my own sanity. Sitting up, I reach for him and draw him toward me for a firm, heady kiss, and that’s all it takes to spark Slater back into action.

  He climbs back onto the bed with me, pushing me back against the mattress and trailing kisses over my body as he uses the lube to prep me.

  “Damnit, that’s enough!” I cry in a strangled gasp. “Please, Slate. Please, just…”

  He offers me that sexy crooked smile again and drops one last kiss to my jaw before removing his fingers.

  Then he quickly tugs off his jeans and briefs before kneeling on the bed. I let out a needy little whimper at the sight of his gorgeous cock, hard and leaking and ready to fill me in that perfect way. The sound prompts Slater’s lips to curve up at the edges as he squeezes a little lube on his palm and uses it to slick up his cock.

  Once he’s ready, he reaches for me and pulls me toward him. “Come here.”

  I move without question, finding myself wrapped around Slater’s kneeling body, my hands clutching fistfuls of his hair as he grips my ass and guides me onto his cock.

  I bury my head in his neck as he fills me excruciatingly slowly, only loosening his hold on my ass once he’s completely bottomed out.

  “God damnit…you feel so perfect,” he says with a harsh groan as he begins to move inside me.

  “Fuck, Slater…fuck…” It’s all I can manage to get out. Just a string of curses and Slater’s name. I tug harder at his hair, dragging his lips to mine for a wild, desperate kiss that just seems to go on and on until we tear away from each other, panting for breath.