Connor

Present Day

As I pull up to my childhood home, I notice a few cars I don’t recognize. This was supposed to be a family get-together, so I’m a little confused about who could be inside.

I enter without knocking or using a key, still shocked my parents leave their doors unlocked. I've lived in San Francisco too long and have forgotten what it's like to be in a small town where everyone knows each other.

My sister, Tracy, runs up. "There you are," she announces, wrapping her arms around me. "Happy birthday, bro."

I hug her back, smiling at her joy. It's been a few months since I've been back to visit. It's only an hour drive from the city, but with my crazy schedule, I don't get away as much as I should.

"Hey, squirt," I tease, winking when I turn away.

She slaps my arm. "Stop calling me that. I'm twenty-five years old."

"You'll always be squirt to me. Sorry, it's a big brother’s right to call his sister whatever he wants. You should be glad. I can think of many other names to call you." I walk down the hall into the kitchen.

"Butt-head," she yells.

"Dummy-face," I throw over my shoulder, laughing. It's sure good to be back.

The smell of my mom’s cooking fills the air, making my stomach clench in hunger and bringing childhood memories back in seconds.

A homecooked meal is something I've come to cherish and miss every day. Eating out is getting old. I’ve tried to learn how to cook but haven’t mastered more than boiling water for pasta and heating jarred spaghetti sauce.

Mom has lured me back on my birthday with promises of my favorite meal—homemade lasagna. The smell of greasy cheese and sausage brings me to heaven, and I can’t wait to sink my teeth into it. She’d better have made two batches, because I'm going to steal one to take home with me.

"Is that my little boy I hear walking down the hallway?" she calls seconds before I enter the room.

She's standing at the stove with her flowered apron on, stirring the sauce.

"Goddamn, that smells good," I take the deepest breath in, rubbing my belly in anticipation.

"Don’t use that kind of language around me," she chastises. "Come over here and give me a hug." She sets down the spoon and wipes her hands on her apron before reaching out to me.

I laugh. "Mom, you know goddamn is not a bad word, right?"

We embrace, and as I pull back her hands cup my ears. "Oh, hush now. You know it is. Let me look at you."

Her smile is one that always makes me chuckle inside. I’m twenty-eight years old, and she still looks at me like I’m her baby boy.

She rubs my cheeks. "Such a handsome man. Please tell me you’ve found yourself a nice girl in the city?"

"Not yet. I wouldn't have time anyway. The law firm keeps me working till all hours of the night."

"Then you work too hard. What's the saying? All work and no play—"

"I didn't say I don't play." I wink at my dad, who enters the kitchen at the perfect moment. We share a look of understanding, and Mom playfully hits my arm.

"You stop that talk around me." She turns away, smiling.

"Oh, come on, Nancy, don't you remember us at his age?" Dad asks as he wraps his arms around her waist.

"Yes, but we were already married," she states.

My parents are the perfect couple. Still married almost thirty years later, and even though picturing them together sexually disgusts me, it's also pretty cool to see they still have an intense level of affection toward each other.

I thought I found something like that with Amy, but who was I kidding. Since it ended with her I haven't been able to get in my groove. I was wondering if I ever would.

Until last night.

This girl walked straight toward me in the bar area of the members only club I attend and seamlessly worked her way into my arms. Even though I had no plan of hooking up, I was willing to entertain her.

Real names are left at the door of the club so instead she called herself Last Chance. At the time I didn't want to know why, but as I drove home last night, the name intrigued me.

She had a wild side, like she wanted to test the limits but not obscenely. Sometimes being with someone is a little awkward or even a little nuts, but there was something exciting about this one.

Even though she told me it was her first time there, it was obvious nothing was holding her back. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. I was more than willing to be her puppet for the night.

I lick my lips, remembering her taste and the way her black mask contrasted with her milky skin.

Pulling up a stool at the kitchen island, I sit and pop grapes into my mouth. "So who else is here? I didn't recognize the two cars parked out front."

"You remember Mackenzie, don't you?" Mom asks, pushing my father away so she can walk to the refrigerator.

"Tracy's friend from high school?”

“Yeah. She's in the backyard talking to Tracy's boyfriend.”

"Oh, great. Who's this guy?" I narrow my eyes, remembering all of my sister’s boyfriends. She picks real winners.

"His name is Scott, and you can stop right there. He’s a nice guy and has been coming around for a few months."

"Nice, my ass. I don't like him."

She gives me her best motherly, don't-be-serious eyes. "You be nice now. No funny business. She seems to really like this one."

I stand to walk toward the sliding glass door. "I'll be the judge of that."

"Connor,” she drawls out.

I give her a dismissive wave and go outside, spotting them sitting at a table in a corner of the property. I take a beer out of the cooler, buying time while staring down the guy who thinks he's getting in my sister's pants.

When he wraps a hand around her thigh, a little too close to some areas for my liking, I clench my jaw. My sister doesn't even flinch from his movement, and it's written all over their body language: they've fucked, and I'm going to kill him.