Ollie

“Mom?” I walk inside the house and scan the area. It’s our habit to get together every few weeks for Sunday brunch, just the two of us. We have a family dinner once a month with everyone, but this is our sacred time. Since the robbery, she’s made it her business to check on me two and three times a week. I understand why, but it’s driving me up the wall.

“I’m in the kitchen, baby.”

I follow the sound of her soft voice to the island where she’s drinking a cup of tea. Her brunette hair is streaked liberally with gray and the crow’s feet around her eyes and mouth are deeper.

“How are you feeling?” she asks. The kindness in the blue eyes so similar to my own gets me in the gut.

How can I stay mad at her for caring?

“I’m a lot better. Physical therapy is going well, and the soreness is fading. I’ll get the green light to return to work in another week or so.”

She frowns so deep her brows nearly kiss. Here we go. “Should you be rushing back?”

“Mom, I’m going stir crazy. There’s only so much television and books a person can consume for entertainment.”

She sighs. “You never liked to stay in one place doing the same thing for too long. From the minute you were old enough to do things alone, you were always on the go. I wasn’t surprised at all when you left home to go skate around the world.”

“It was my passion. I had to follow it as far as I possibly could, or I always would’ve wondered. Besides, college wasn’t for me. I could never thrive there. Not when I had no direction. I would’ve been going to please you, and in the end, it would’ve been a waste of good money.”

“And I knew that. It’s why I never spoke a word against your decision. It was an incredible opportunity to see the world and do what you love. I was proud of you. I’m still proud. I hope you know that.”

My stomach drops. This sounds like a build-up to bad news. “Mom, are you okay?”

“I am.” She swallows. “When I got the call you’d been shot I thought of all the things I hadn’t said or didn’t say enough.” She sniffs and I walk over to pull her into a side hug. She’s finally breaking down and opening up. I knew this moment would come eventually. In the hospital, she held it together to be strong for me. Now that I’m on the mend, it’s a different story. I know my mom better than anyone else. She hides her feelings until it’s safe in her mind to let go.

“I’m okay, Mom.”

“I was so scared. And your father ...” Her voice shakes. “You should’ve seen his face when he came in. I think ... I think he wants to repair your relationship.”

I roll my eyes. “Mom—”

“No. It made me realize I did you a disservice never encouraging you to iron things out. What he did to me was despicable, yes. But it’s between him and me.”

“Mom, with all due respect, Dad can eat a bag of dicks. It was more than the cheating. We never meshed. I didn’t fit in or live up to his expectations, and he never let me forget it. That’s the base of all our animosity.”

I release her. I knew my dad had come around. I was half awake for one occasion. It had done nothing to soften my heart where he was concerned. It felt like some last-ditch effort to set us straight in case I kicked the bucket.

“Why are we even talking about this?”

She glances at the floor.

“Mom?”

“Because I asked her to invite you here. I knew you wouldn’t answer my calls or come if you knew about the arrangement.”

I glance toward my father who’s coming down the hall toward me.

“You’re damn straight. Really, Mom? I expect this from him, not you.”

“This is about what’s best for you,” she says.

“I’m fine exactly how I am.” I grit my teeth.

“I won’t be here forever. I need to know you have a support system if something happens to me. That robbery reminded me of how unpredictable and short life can be. We need to heal this family.”

I shake my head. “I can see where you’re coming from, Mom. I know you feel this is what needs to happen, but I’m not interested. It’s all water under the bridge.”

I turn to look at my father. He’s aged well over the years. His hair is a salt and pepper medley woman like, and the wrinkles that stand out make him appear more distinguished. He’s kept his six foot two frame trim. Dressed in a pair of khakis and a crisp white button-up shirt, he’s more relaxed than I remember him being growing up. I have to hand it to his new wife, Kathy. She’s gotten him to loosen him up. That it came at my family’s expense is the thing I can’t forgive.

Why not just divorce? What purpose did cheating serve? There was no love lost between the two, clearly. My parents’ dealings with one another were luke-warm, at best, and icy toward the end. I’d hate to try to guess how many women there were before he landed on Kathy.

“Are you going to punish me for the rest of our lives over the things I did wrong?” my father asks quietly.

“Let’s not pretend it was a small thing. You didn’t miss my big games, but you did you cheat on my mother, humiliating her in front of the entire town who knew damn well what you were doing, and put me down every step of the way.”

“No, I tried to mold you into someone set up for success.”

“At the expense of my happiness? We both know I wasn’t cut out for the doctor or lawyer route, so why force the issue? Because it hurt your pride that I wasn’t like you.”

“Oliver, there were a million other things you could’ve done. You had limitless potential. I knew that, so I made sure you had the grades and the extracurricular activities that would allow you to pursue a college degree, or at the very least get you into a trade school.”

“Or neither of those two options, because we see I took an alternative route.”

“Which was a huge gamble.”

“That paid off,” I counter.

“Luckily for you, yes it did. For a million others it didn’t.”

I roll my eyes. He takes me back to being a pre-teen living under his roof dealing with his stifling rules.

“Listen, we’ll never agree on how to succeed in life. I understand that. The difference of opinions is no reason why you and I can’t have a meaningful relationship.”

“I really can’t do this right now, Dad,” I say as I blow out my breath and look up at the ceiling.

“Then when?”

My phone rings and I latch on to the distraction. I pull it from my pocket, and the blood drains from my face.

“I have to take this,” I say as I walk past him and out on to the back patio.

“Detective Kunes?”

“Mr. Hemmingway, I think we have our man. Can you come in for a lineup tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

“How does noon sound?”

“Perfect.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Vindication is so close I can almost taste it. I return to the house where my father is standing closer to my mother than I’d like. I never thought he paid for the humiliation he caused us, or the way he’d done her wrong. It bothered me. It was like the story where the villain prospered, and the hero died. Only, Mom didn’t die, she simply shut down and hardened her heart to another chance a love. The similarities between us is staggering. She had a busy life full of family, friends, and activities, but I can tell she’s lonely. I want more for her than a life lived alone. She deserves to be loved by a man who’ll appreciate her.

“Mom, I’m not sure what you’re expecting of me here.” I cross my arms.

“I know you hate to be cornered, so I’ll put this out there and leave it. All I want you to do is think about fixing this with me,” Dad says.

I open my mouth to shred him to pieces, but stop when I see my mother’s hopeful gaze.

“Fine, I’ll think about it. Are we done here?”

“Yeah, we’re done. Thanks for trying to help, Deborah.” He squeezes her shoulder and heads for the door. I watch him leave, confused by the exchange.

“You want to tell me when you both got so friendly again?”

“We have three children together, Oliver.”

She’s pulled out the full name. I should proceed with caution. However, the emotions churning inside of me like a whirlpool blow any shot I had of doing that out of the water.

“And?”

“And it’s time you make your peace with him and what happened. I did.”

“What the hell, Mom?”

“I know why you sent Allie away. You’ve always been resistant to anything long term. Your father and I are to blame for that. I tried to let you work through it on your own. But seeing you go through this healing process alone soured my stomach.”

“Mom, it’s not even like that.” I hold out a hand to stop her.

“Are you sure? You two have a child together, and she’s a sweet girl—”

“Yes, when she wants to be. We’re too incompatible to work long term. That’s why I cut ties with her. Leading her on isn’t good for me, her, or Rolly.”

She blinks. “Oh.”

I smile. “I’ve been holding out on you. I’m seeing Quinn.”

“The girl who saved your life?” Smiling, she sits up straighter in her chair.

I laugh. “Yeah. We wanted to keep it to ourselves and see how it panned out before we let others know.”

“Oh, this is wonderful. You’re serious about her?”

“Very.”

She sighs. “That makes me immensely happy. You’re forty-one. I don’t want you to be alone like me.”

“Mom, you’re still young,” I protest. I hate the defeated look on her face.

“It’s kind of you to say that. Back to you. I think it’s time to settle this thing with your father. He was beside himself at the hospital. Crying, demanding answers, and looking every one of his sixty-five years. I don’t know when I saw him so shaken.”

“Really?”

“Honey, he may never have understood you, but he’s always loved you. You butted heads because he wanted to give you a good life, and in his mind, you’d never allowed him to do that. When you rejected everything he believed and stood for, it was personal for him.”

Her words paint his side of the picture. I mull it over. Not ready to be swayed, I sigh and scrub my face with my hand. Things are never as black and white as we want them to be, and the hostility between us takes energy I don’t feel like extended any longer.

“I hear you, Mom. I’m going to work on this. I need you to bear with me, though, ’cause I’m not where you are in the process.”

“That’s all I ask,” she says gently.

“If I do this, you have to do something for me in return.”

“What’s that?” she asks.

“Start dating.”

“Oh, no. I am so past that age.”

“No, you’re not, Mom. Come on, do this and I’ll give Dad a shot.”

She frowns. “Who taught you how to wheel and deal, young man?”

I laugh. “It’s in my blood.”

“That it is. Since you’re using your powers for good, I’ll agree to this.”

The sparkle in her eyes leads me to believe she has someone in mind. I’m not sure how to feel about that. Looks like things are about to get interesting for the both of us.

“I want to hear more about this young lady of yours.”

The warmth that surges forward at her request tells me I’m in deep and sinking fast.

***

IT’S FITTING I HAVE Quinn beside me as we wait for them to bring out the suspects. Our hands brush, and we share a look. The evil that touched us will soon be only a sheet of glass away. The room is crowded with a detective and two men in suits. I think one might be a lawyer for one of the men called in to do a lineup. My palms are clammy, and my mouth is dry. The room seems to shrink as my body grows hotter. Detective Kunes hits the buzzer.

“Send them in, Officer.”

The men walk in all dressed in black. I tense as my mind returns to that day. I never knew I could hate a color so much. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I glance down the row of five men. The first two are too short. The third is too bulky. But the first and second on the left side make my gut ache.

“You know the drill, step forward when you’re called. Number one.”

The man steps forward and I study his facial shape. Too round and smooth. The other man was older and more weathered. This kid is barely out of puberty. I shake my head.

“No, this isn’t him,” I state.

“I agree,” Quinn says quietly.

“Number one, step back. Number two, step forward.” My heart knocks in my chest as time slows. The light falls on his face. The gnarly white scar extending from his temple down to his chin stands out like a blazing signal. The lean face, hooked nose, and scraggly goatee push me toward a panic attack. I ball my fists and suck air into my distressed lungs. “That’s him.” I point.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll never forget him,” Quinn whispers from beside me.

The suspect’s eyes are narrowed and cold. It’s as if he can see through the one-way mirror.

“Can he see us?” Quinn’s voice wavers.

“No,” Detective Kunes assures her. “Suspect number two, put your hood on.”

He pulls the garment up over his head, and I grunt, closing my eyes against the memories that press down against my brain.

“Jesus Christ, it’s him,” Quinn whispers.

“Suspect number two, step back,” Detective Kunes instructs. He runs the other three men through the process and lets them leave. It’s the end of the darkest chapter of my life. A nagging concern tickles my cerebellum, but the adrenaline running through my brain muddles my thoughts. It’s a fog of formal thank yous as we’re walked out of the viewing room to the front of the police station. Not even the sun chases away the chill that’s set into my bones as we step out of the brick building.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asks.

“No.”

She squeezes my hand. As we leave the building behind I can’t help but wonder if I just made a mistake. This can’t be how triumph is supposed to feel.

***

QUINN

I open the door and invite Ollie in. Fridays when I’m not working it’s become a tradition to unwind. He’s still healing, and I’m getting used to peopling heavily again as I start to take on projects. A makeup artist is part skill and part psychology, sort of like a bartender, but for beauty. People get in the chair and spill their guts. You have to respond accordingly to the client in your chair. That could mean soothing nerves, giving reassurance, or my all-time favorite, catering to the actors who get off on making you feel like a peon. Or should I say attempting to make me feel like one? As my mother says, they wake up in the morning and put their pants on one leg at a time like everyone else. I’m not awed by them.

Noticing how tired Ollie looks, I frown. Asking him about his injuries will get me nowhere. The man is as stubborn as a bull. I know he feels he has a lot to prove, but I worry he might burn himself out.

“Hey, how was your work week?” I say.

“Long and stressful. There were some issues with the calendar, so we had to talk about reshoots, but no one wanted to bring it up to me. So they tiptoed around the subject for the past two weeks, and now I’m on a time crunch and paying the models out the ass for last minute booking fees.”

“You’re going back?” My mouth dries.

“Shit. I didn’t mean to say it like that,” he mumbles.

“Oliver.”

His eyes widen. I think this is the first time I’ve ever used it. “Are you going back to reshoot?”

He shrugs. “I-I don’t know.”

My gut aches. “Do you want to?” I ask, trying to hold on to my cool exterior. This has to be his decision. Maybe it’s part of his personal healing process. Still, I can’t help but feel it’s tempting fate. I bite my tongue until I taste something metallic as he glances down on the floor.

“I feel like I have to.”

“Why?” I ask as the voice inside of me screams for me to beg him not to go.

“So I can stop being a coward. What does that say to me and everyone else if I’m too scared to go back and handle my business, Quinn?”

“That you’re human,” I reply, stunned by the bitterness in his voice.

“No, that I’m weak, and no longer the man I once was.”

“You cannot believe that.” Crossing my arms, I shake my head.

“Why? It’s what everyone else is thinking, isn’t it? I mean, why else would they keep it from me? How can I do my job when they no longer trust me?”

“You think this is about trust?”

He looks up, and his eyes flash. They’re a stormy grayish blue I’ve never seen before. “Yes.”

“No. This is about love and respect. They don’t want to agitate a fresh wound. It’s only been a couple of months, babe.”

He grits his teeth and shakes his head. His jaw ticks and his hands ball into fists. The frustration that rolls off him makes the air heavy.

“You’re too hard on yourself.” I step into him, ignoring his anger, and cup his face. “You went back to work a month after being shot. You’re juggling Rolly, a busy schedule, and PT. Yes, you have some setbacks every now and then. We both do, and it’s completely normal. Please don’t tear yourself up over this.”

“I wish I could see the world through rose-colored glasses.”

“Believe me, I don’t. I’m not going to sit here and allow you to berate yourself when it’s so undeserved. My boyfriend is smart, sexy, kind, and strong as hell.”

His lips curve upward, and he bestows me with that smile that makes my knees turn to jelly.

“Boyfriend?”

I nod. “See, I would never date a coward, so clearly whoever you’re talking about is now Oliver Hemnway.”

He pulls me to him and tickles my neck with the scruff on his face as I giggle, and the dark cloud hanging over him passes.

“You’re too good to me. Thank you for that. I was stuck on a loop. I’m not sure what I want to do. They don’t necessarily need me on site. I can assist remotely.”

I just labeled us. I can speak up now. I rub the soft material of his button-up flannel between my thumb and pointer finger. “Please, don’t.”

“What’s that, sassy?”

Anyone else would be murdered for calling me that. It sounds different coming from him, like a compliment. “I don’t want you to.”

His lids lower and fire flickers in the depths of his irises. “You worried about me?”

I nod my head, embarrassed by my irrationality. “I don’t think we should tempt fate.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’m not going to torture us both to satisfy some misplaced sense of pride. It’s a bad habit I thought I’d broken years ago.”

I palm his neck and pull his mouth down to mine. He hums as I take charge, thrusting my tongue between his lips as I demand entrance. He grips my ass, and I move my head to the right, deepening our kiss as I rock my hips, pressing myself against the rapidly growing bulge in his pants at just the right angle. My breasts swell, and my panties grow damp. The man sets me on fire like no man before him. It could have to do with the fact that I’m at my sexual peak at thirty-two. Somehow, I think it’s this particular man. Our chemistry is instantaneous, and I’m melting from the inside out as our tongues battle for dominance. We both have strong personalities. Courting has been a mixed bag of compromise and privacy as we figure things out and work on convincing the rest of the world we’re different, not damaged.

He walks me backward until the backs of my legs hit the couch and gently lowers me down. I spread my legs, welcoming his weight on top of me. I take care around his wound. A gunshot is not something one heals from in a month or two. He grinds into my crotch, and I whimper and roll my hips into the bulge of his jeans. I’m tired of wondering what’s beneath the denim. I reach between us and stroke him through the rough material. He’s thick, hard, and at least eight inches. My stomach tightens and my nipples strain against my bra. I’ve been one giant arousal since he kissed me in his kitchen. It’s time we both do something about it.

I cup him, and he grunts. Moving my hand back up, I pop the button on his jeans. He stills.

“Down,” I whisper.

Together we manage to work his pants down around his thighs. Too eager to wait, I slip my hands inside his black boxer briefs and retrieve my prize, baring him to the light. His cock curves slightly to the right and has a deep red tip that makes my mouth water. I grip his base, and he twitches in my hand. I lick my lips and stroke upward, twisting my wrist as I rub his slit with my thumb. The warm wetness that coats my finger makes me moan.

“I want to make you as wet as I am.”

His pupils dilate, and I give a throaty chuckle. For once he’s at my mercy. I grip him tighter and pump faster.

“Oh, shit.” His raspy response gets me high. I watch his eyes darken as he turns to living stone in my hand.

“I want to taste you, Ollie.”

“Whatever my lady wants,” he says hoarsely. I slip from the couch on onto my knees, waiting for him to sit back in a comfortable position. I don’t want to hinder his healing progress, but we both need this. After pushing his pants down around his ankles, I massage his inner thighs as I slide my hands up to grasp his dick. I bend down and take him into my mouth, moaning at the salty taste of his warm length. I circle his tip with my tongue taking just the head into my mouth. He thrusts up, and I smirk as I move back.

“Quinn.”

“Patience,” I whisper as I lick the underside with my tongue, tracing the large, prominent vein. His tip is dripping with pre-come and has turned a deep shade of purple as it filled with blood. I kiss the tip and hold his gaze as I wrap my lips around him.

“Oh, God.” He inhales, and I hollow my cheeks as I take as much of him in as I can, warming my mouth up. It’s been a long time for me. He rolls his hips up, seeking more, and I take him deeper little by little until he’s at the back of my throat. I close my throat muscles, and he grunts. His eyes roll into the back of his head, and I twist my wrist, traveling his length as I take him in and out. The tiny pants escaping his mouth have me creaming in my panties. I’m the one giving him this pleasure and taking his mind off everything he’s been through.

He balls his fist in my hair, and I hum. I unleash a beast as he drives into my mouth. The raw passion and lack of control is an aphrodisiac. I moan, pressing my thighs together as I take everything he has to give. I gag as he goes too deep, but I love every minute of it. Ollie is so laid back and regulated seeing this side of him is everything.

“I’m gonna come.”

His body tenses and he lets go, spraying the back of my throat. I struggle to get it all down as it dribbles out of my mouth and he pushes it back in with his thumb. I lick it off, enamored with the man who’s looking at me like I just hung the moon and the stars in the night sky.

“My sassy girl is so damn beautiful.”

I rest my head on his lap, and he strokes my hair, filling me with warm tingles that have nothing to do with the river in my underwear.

“Let me catch my breath, and it’s your turn.”

I lift my head, alarmed. “No, your wound.”

“That’s why you’re going to bring that pussy to me and sit on my face.”

My walls flex, and I bite my lip in anticipation. The last guy I dated hated to give head. So, I’m looking forward to it like a dieter to their favorite dessert on cheat day.

“I’m going to take care of you sassy. I’ve been thinking about how you’d taste for too long now.” His voice is velvet seduction. Rich, soft, and irresistible. He lulls me into a relaxed state while heightening my arousal as he massages my scalp and pets my hair. I never thought I’d be the type to like submission, but when it’s to Ollie, it’s different. There’s nothing one-sided about it. We give and take as it pleases us.

He’s barely touched me, and my body is ablaze with want.

“Are you ready for me, sassy?”

“So ready.”

I sit back onto my heels and wait for his directions. He plays along with me. I can return the favor. He stands and holds out his hand. “I’m going to claim what’s mine in my bedroom.”

“Am I yours?” I ask, unsure that I like the caveman approach he’s taking.

“Damn straight. The same way I’m yours.”

His words smooth my ruffled feathers. He pulls me to my feet, entwining our fingers as we make the short walk to this bedroom. The king-sized bed is centered in the massive room. The natural light flooding in allows the elephant gray walls to make a statement without being too dark. His gray plaid jersey sheets are inviting and warm, like the man himself. I grab the bottom of my shirt, and he places his hand over mine.

“No, allow me.”

I drop my arms, and he nibbles his way down my neck as his fingers dart underneath my top to caress my heated skin. He strips me down, touching every inch of me he can reach. I step from my skirt and stand before him in my black silk boy shorts and red bra with black ribbon laced through it. He runs his fingertips down my strap and across the tops of my breasts. A chill races down my spine and I arch toward him. He slaps my ass and squeezes.

“Love this ass, sassy. You have no idea the havoc you been wreaking on me. You walk by, and I’m at half-mast.” He pops my bra one-handed and slips the garment down my arms, tossing it to the floor. Cupping my breasts, he leans in and flicks each nipple with his tongue. I moan as I grip his shoulders and bend my knees to remain upright. He sucks my left tit into his mouth. I cup the back of his head. Each draw pulls at my core. He goes from left to right never letting one side get jealous of the other. My belly clenches and my inner thighs grow slick.

He releases me with a pop. “I can smell how much you want me. Panties off. Now.” I shove them down my hips and legs, stepping away from them as he crooks his fingers and I follow him to the bed like he’s the Pied Piper. He strips off his shirt, tossing it onto the ground. The gauze is a reminder of what brought us together. Completely nude, he crawls onto the bed and lays flat on his back.

“Come and ride my face, sassy.”

I don’t think anyone has ever said anything as erotic as that sentence. I climb over him on the bed and face away from him.

“Grab the headboard and have a seat.” I do as he asks, hissing as his tongue licks a path across my weeping slit. He hums his approval and latches on like a man long denied dinner. I grip the headboard tight to stay upright as he plunges his tongue inside and out, nuzzling my clit with his nose. I catch his rhythm, winding my hips as the cries spill from my lips.

“Yes, right there, Ollie. Oh my God.”

He latches onto my clit and pushes two long fingers inside of me. I grasp them, riding them as the sensation overwhelms me. I shatter, shaking as I call out this name, unable to think or say anything more as I ride the white wave of completion. I slip to the side onto the bed, breathing hard as my world continues to swirl with colors. A gentle kiss from Ollie makes me moan. I can taste myself on his tongue. I wonder if he can taste himself. The fact that he didn’t mind was a huge turn on. There’s a level of intimacy in that action I’ve never achieved with another. The links that bind us tighten once more. A flicker of fear lights. What happens if this doesn’t work out?

“You doing okay, sassy?” He kisses my temple and extinguishes my concern.

“Yes.” Rolling onto my side, I gently touch his bandage. “Are you?”

“Better than I’ve been in a long time. I don’t think you know how much of an impact you’ve had on me since you entered my world.”

“I feel the exact same way.” I cup his face and bask in the warmth in his gaze. Deep down I worry one day he’ll blame me for the robbery. I think it would break a piece of me if he did. Because in my mind, he’d be absolutely correct. Some days the guilt slices me bone deep. If he hadn’t walked me to my car he’d never have been shot ... but I might not be here, and we wouldn’t be here together. I tell myself it was meant to work out this way. Maybe one day I’ll believe it.