A few days go by, all of us a little raw, a little shaken. Dusty has an extra room in his house and is letting my mom stay there.

I’ve never felt so relieved by a living situation in my life. With Dusty in the house, I absolutely know my mother is safe and it fills me with a relief I never knew I was looking for. My mom needs a protector and for now, she’s found that with Dusty.

I’m not trying to get ahead of myself, but guessing by the way he looks at her, I understand exactly what it is going on there.

Because the way Dusty looks at my mom is the same way Sawyer looks at me. With softness, with pride. With desire.

“Why are you smiling?” Sawyer asks, coming up behind me in the basement of Dusty’s house.

I’m doing laundry here, grateful that Dusty’s house is on the same piece of property as the bar and the cottage. Between Dusty’s washer and dryer, the kitchen, and the bar, we have everything we could need all on this one piece of land.

Part of me imagines never leaving, staying here forever with Sawyer and my mom and Dusty and having a safe, albeit small, existence.

But then I catch Sawyer looking on the Internet, reading again and again and again articles about his old life, his old friends. Interviews given by people who were on the red carpet the night that Cal punched Danny Bruneau in the face. He’s reading interviews from famous actors and actresses about Sawyer Bennett’s death. I’m not saying he’s obsessed, but I know him. And I know he is wondering if he made the right choice by faking his suicide.

He wraps his arms around me now as I’m adding detergent to the washing machine, his mouth nuzzling my neck, kissing me playfully. My hair’s wrapped up in a bun at the top of my head and my bare skin tingles with his lips against me.

I’m smiling because I’m not working at the bar tonight. I love Tuesdays and Wednesdays. My days off, when I get to spend the whole day in Sawyer’s arms.

With my mom here right now, it’s nice to have the bar closed for a few days so I can spend some time with her and figure out what we’re going to do next.

Mom and Dusty don’t know the truth about Sawyer, and we intend on keeping it that way. Trust or not, some secrets are meant to be buried. Besides, it isn’t my secret to tell.

“I talked to Dusty and Teddy,” Sawyer tells me. “They think your stepdad left town, no one can find a trace of him at the mobile home park.”

The day my mom returned with Teddy, we sent Teddy back on the road to go scout out my stepdad. To trace him so when he leaves town we’ll have a head’s up.

A good thing about Dusty is that he’s connected. He knows people from Indianapolis. The same bouncers and security who come out for the nights the Fuck Club is open. Thankfully, they’re on standby in case of an emergency. In case my stepdad shows up with a vengeance.

“Dusty told me he was opening the club this weekend,” I tell Sawyer. “He said there’s a set schedule and his clients are expecting the doors to be open. I kinda wish he wouldn’t open it this weekend. It seems like we don’t need any more people walking around here right now. Recognizing you.”

“Dusty doesn’t have a reason to think I am a problem. He probably figures if your stepdad showed, all the bouncers would be here anyway. Smart, actually,” Sawyer explains.

“If you told him who you were, he’d change his mind.”

Sawyer shakes his head. “I’m not doing that. Hell, Cal thinks I’m dead, telling anyone before him that I’m still alive feels wrong.”

“You told me.”

“You’re not anyone. You are the one.”

My face flushes, I love it when he speaks like that. So damn sure.

“You are pretty smooth, you know that?” I tease, ruffling his hair with my hands. “But we need to figure out what we’re gonna do next. I mean, what’s the endgame? Are we just gonna wait around forever for my stepdad to show up and then begin the murdering?” I snort, not in a funny way; in a how-is-this-my-life way. “I want to watch him bleed, but part of me wonders if I am just asking for trouble. If I’m just being an idiot here—hell-bent and hardheaded. Would it be better for us to just get some passports and head to Mexico?”

“Would you do that?” Sawyer asks. I close the lid of the washing machine and turn it on, collecting my thoughts before I turn back around to answer.

“Maybe. My mom’s here now... but maybe she could stay and live in the cottage, work for Dusty?

Sawyer cuts me off. “Live in the cottage? Hell no, Dusty is smitten with your mom, if she’s living anywhere it’ll be with him.”

“Really?” My eyes widen. The idea is too good to be true. My mom could use a man like Dusty––loyal and strong. A man who would protect her and love her like she deserved.

“I swear it. He’s bending over backwards to make sure she’s okay. I saw him run out to get her ice cream the other day because in passing she mentioned wanting some. I swear he’s a different man.”

“Shit, really?” My face breaks out in a grin. I realize it’s been a long time since I’ve smiled about something related to my mom. Maybe forever.

“You know how we were wondering if everything happens for a reason?” I say. “I think it does. How else do you explain you and me and my mom all showing up in Resting Hollow of all places? It’s like we all found what we didn’t realize we were looking for, and we found it in the most unlikely of places.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Sawyer says. “I can’t help but wonder if the night Cal was here at Dusty’s bar, if the universe wanted me to go talk to him. Make my peace with him.”

He runs his hand over his jaw. “I don’t know if fate is real or not, but it seems like I shouldn’t have turned my back on him that night. I was just so damn scared. And now I wonder if I missed my chance. Maybe the universe brought him here for a reason. For me to come clean with my oldest friend.”

Pushing a hand through his hair, he looks so fucking stressed out that it kills me to see him this way. He’s tormented in ways I can’t fix.

Still, I know other ways to ease his pain. I wrap my arms around his neck, and press my mouth to his softly.

“Look, you can’t have a do-over for everything in life, but with this? Maybe you can. You can always call them. Cal and your parents. You don’t have to be gone if you don’t want to be. I know it might be terrible. But feeling like this is terrible, too.”

He pulls me up onto the washing machine. The spin cycle vibrates under my ass, my hands pressed on the lid.

“What do you want to do?” I ask him.

“I want to make it right. I don’t want a life in Hollywood again. It’s a lot of flash without a lot of substance. I want more than that for you and me. So, whatever happens next, I know I’m not going back down that path. But I think not trying harder with my parents was the wrong decision.”

“You can do something about that,” I tell him. “Most people don’t get second chances like that. Most people die once and that’s it. But, Sawyer, you can. You’re still breathing.”

He shakes his head. “Can you just imagine the shit storm that would happen if the press got word that Sawyer Bennett was actually fucking alive? There’s been more than enough television specials and articles written about my career, about my life and my death. I can’t imagine the flak I’d get if they found out I faked my own fucking demise. It would be career suicide.”

“I know,” I tell him. “But Sawyer, you’ve already died according to the papers. So, what? Let them kill you all over again. What do you have to lose?”

He smirks. “You’re right about that. I said I was over the fucking attention; so why should I care if the press has a heyday with my reputation? At the end of the day, none of those strangers matter. All that matters are the things that are real.”

I wrap my arms around his neck. “Exactly. And this? This is real.”

Sawyer kisses me softly, then pulls back, his arms around my waist. “I’m getting a little stir crazy here,” he tells me. “Are you?”

“Hmmm, I can think of a few ways to pass the time.” My hands reach for the hem of Sawyer’s T-shirt and I ease it over his head. Then my fingers fumble with the button of his jeans, and I push them down. I love the sight of him. He is so fucking tall, so strong and chiseled. And he’s so big that his cock is right at my pussy. My legs spread wide open. All my panties are getting washed right now, so all I have on is a tiny little sundress, my bare pussy beneath it.

“It’s the Fourth of July today,” he tells me, his hands on my thighs, his fingers inching closer to my wet cunt. “There’s a Fourth of July parade going on downtown later..”

“And are there any fireworks this afternoon?” I ask coyly. “Because truthfully, Sawyer I don’t think I can wait until tonight for them.” I pull up my skirt, offering him my pussy. I run my fingers against my opening, getting excited, the vibrating washing machine doing its fair share to help me.

And Sawyer, with his jeans off, his cock hard, he’s doing his fair share to get me excited, too.

“Fireworks, huh?” he asks, he runs a hand over his jaw, his biceps flexing, his eyes dark, looking me up and down as if he wants to devour me.

“Yeah, I want an explosion,” I tell him giggling. The tip of his cock inches toward my pussy and I scoot my ass to the edge of the machine. He strokes himself, his long massive cock so fucking hard.

“I miss your tits,” he tells me, reaching behind my neck and untying the halter top of my dress. It falls down and my breasts are revealed. My nipples are so hard, and he draws his mouth to them, sucking the dark nub. He runs his palms over them both pulling them together and kissing them completely. His other hand reaches between my legs to stroke my slick pussy.

“Oh baby, you’re so fucking wet.”

“And you’re so fucking hard.”

I love it when he touches my tits, and I arch my back, giving him more of myself, wanting to give him everything. This tortured man is mine, and his wounds are mine to heal. Being the only woman who can do that makes me feel like a goddess, makes me feel like a queen.

It makes me feel like I’m his.

“Damn, girl, that feels so fucking good,” he says as I stroke his long cock up and down.

His balls are tight and his shaft is rigid. “I need you in me, Sawyer.”

He growls in my ear, his tongue against my skin causing every hair on my body to stand on end.

“Give it to me now, baby,” I beg.

He does as I ask, he puts his cock inside me hard and swift. He fucks me into oblivion on that machine, sliding my ass off it until I’m wrapped around his body. He holds my ass cheeks, my tits bouncing in the air as he fucks me hard, with abandon. With intention. He fucks me like he’s telling me there’s nothing in this world that’s going to come between us.

Like there’s nothing in this world but us.

I moan in pleasure as an orgasm starts building inside me, and when he thrusts inside, over and again I inch closer and closer to release. My hands run underneath his T-shirt, his ladder of abs so slick and sweaty, so perfectly mine.

“Fuck me, baby,” I murmur, running my hands through his hair, my mouth crashing against his. I kiss him hard, biting his bottom lip until I draw blood as I bounce on top of his rock-hard cock. As he fills my pussy, my body explodes in orgasm.

Forget the fireworks, Sawyer’s cock is more explosive than any Independence Day celebration. And with Sawyer’s cock inside me, it feels like fucking freedom.

“God,” I whisper, shaking against him as my body pulses with pleasure from head to toe, totally undone as his come shoots deep inside me. My pussy is filled with his seed just how I wanted. How I begged him to give it to me. I’ve always been on birth control, and I love having that protection because, with his cock unsheathed inside of me, it’s like a pleasure trove more abundant than any other man could ever give.

Sawyer is more than any man.

He is my man.

And when he comes in me and fills me with himself, I forget to think, forget to breathe, forget myself completely.

My forehead falls onto his chest, as I relish our midday love-making. He kisses my tits again—then my neck, my chin, my mouth, my nose. He kisses me on the lips, his tongue against mine, connecting in perfect harmony. Our bodies still reeling from the pleasure we just shared. The love we just accepted.

“Are you still feeling pent-up here in Dusty’s basement?” I ask.

He laughs, shaking his head while looking down at me.

“Baby, there is no such thing as pent-up when it comes to fucking you.”

“Even so, let’s go to the fireworks tonight. It’ll be dark out and no one will see us. I think it sounds romantic.”

“Agreed. It can be a proper date.”

“I don’t need anything proper, Sawyer Bennett. I just need you.”