Chapter 4

Talia

Dropping Lily-Rose off for her second lesson filled me with a strange anxiety. I perched at the edge of the practice room, watching as Lily-Rose scampered inside and wrapped her arms around Fox’s legs. An actual hug! Lily-Rose hardly touched anyone. Especially in the months since Billie had died, she’d been wrapped in a kind of emotional bubble—acting out, tossing her elbows into any children who tried to get too close to her at school.

“How you doing, champ?” Fox asked her, drawing his eyes toward mine in an almost mocking way.

“I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” I told him, ticking my fingers along the doorframe. “I have to drop those cookies off at the community center. And run a few other errands. But if anything goes wrong—“

“As if anything will,” Fox said, his voice confident. He tapped Lily-Rose on the shoulder and drew her toward the piano bench, already guiding her fingers into place. Consciously, the pair turned away from me, centered on the lesson. I pulled the door shut and walked away, my eyebrows scrunching over my eyes. What was this feeling? Jealousy? That Lily-Rose was entrusting Fox with her music playing? Or that they were able to spend a half-hour together, without bickering?

In any case, I was on edge for the entirety of the next twenty-five minutes, rushing into the community center and nearly dropping the entire bucket of cookies to the ground. The coordinator, an elderly woman named May who I’d known since I was six, was in the foyer. “It looks like you don’t have your head on straight today, Talia,” she sighed. “It’s that girl, isn’t it? She’s running you into the ground.”

I blinked wide eyes at May, feeling a shudder of rage through my chest. Although it was well known throughout town that Lily-Rose wasn’t exactly the easiest child – picking fights at school, tossing her French fries across the fast food restaurant after a particularly emotional baseball game – it was rare that anyone had the gall to say so, to my face.

But I stuttered, conscious that I had to remain the “golden girl” of Bilkington. May brought her hand across mine, atop the bucket of chocolate chip cookies – sparkling with tickles of sea salt under the plastic wrap – and tapped at my skin.

“Just know we’re all praying for you,” she sighed, again. “And especially now that that ass who left you came back into town. I mean, I remember when the pair of you would run around this town like you owned the place. You were so beautiful back then. So young! And he was so handsome.”

“And now?” I heard myself ask, my voice feeling far away in my throat.

“Now? Well, darling. He’s a rock star. And of course you are still beautiful, dear. But you have responsibilities of your own now,” May sighed, yet again.

Feeling dizzy, I made an excuse for an immediate exit. “Well, speaking of Lily-Rose, I need to pick her up. Gotta run.” And I shoved the bucket at May and then raced from the community center. I thrust my head forward, my mind racing. What a fool I was to these people – a foolish woman, unable to handle a child, her own niece. And now, the man who’d “jilted me,” who had run off just months after my father had left, was back. Almost to rub it in my face.

Dotting my fingers along my sweating forehead, I forced myself back toward the practice rooms. From outside, I slid my hand along the door, feeling the reverberations from the piano. I could feel a softer side of Fox, just through his tone of voice. “When you touch the keys, you need to do so as if each has a personality. Touch them softly, tenderly. See, like this?”

His fingers sparkled up and down the keys, making Lily-Rose clap her hands with glee. I opened the door slowly, hating that it crackled and interrupted their magic. Lily-Rose and Fox turned toward me, and Lily-Rose’s smile looked absolutely electric.

“Aunt Talia, I’m good today!” she cried.

I chuckled, drawing my arms over my chest.

“She really is. Making huge strides. A complete natural,” Fox said, looking at Lily-Rose with seemingly genuine admiration. “I was just telling her, there’s a live music performance downtown tonight, near city hall. A pianist is coming through from Los Angeles, one I used to always hire for our records. Was thinking, if the two of you wanted to come…?”

I felt a stab of fear, knowing that the entire town would see us out together. How stupid I would seem to them. Following like a dog after this man who’d left me. This thought about me, it couldn’t have been more wrong. But Lily-Rose nodded her head with such ferocity, bringing her tiny hands together.

“Please, Aunt Talia! It sounds so fun,” she said, her eyes wide. “I promise I’ll be good. I promise!”

Within the hour, I found myself walking alongside Fox in downtown Bilkington, my fingers flickering at my thighs. Lily-Rose scampered ahead of us, her bright pink tennis shoes dancing atop the pavement. Before us was the large Bilkington pavilion, where, on summertime Fridays in recent years, hundreds of people picnicked and danced, their hearts filled with community pride. It was strange to see Fox amongst them—tall, rugged, handsome, tattoos in full view beneath his t-shirt, and a pair of expensive sunglasses atop his nose. For this reason, I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me. My eyes fluttered toward his several times, and anxiety flung through me.

“I don’t know if you’ll like the crowd here,” I began. “Just a lot of townies, you know.”

“Wouldn’t have expected anything else, Talia,” Fox said, almost sneering.

I brought my fingers to my throat, feeling unable to read the situation. Was he being snide? Rude? Or was this just his only way of communicating with me, with all the history between us sizzling in the air?

We sat at the edge of the field, watching in silence as the Los Angeles pianist – a man wearing a dark fedora, a button-down, and a thick mustache – whirled onto the stage. He slipped onto the bench, beginning to bang out a classic early 2000s ballad, and one that, coincidentally, Fox and I had kissed to when we’d been teenagers. Maybe it hadn’t been the first kiss, or the second. But it had been a familiar refrain as we’d stripped each other bare in the backseat of his car, me leaning my head forward, bringing my tongue along his neck.

I glanced toward Fox, wondering if he felt the memory as intensely as I did. Lily-Rose bobbed her head from side to side, drawing herself into the music. My lips hummed with sudden desire. Pressing my hand over my mouth, I waited, apprehensive. I both wanted Fox to say something, and wanted him to leave me alone. I couldn’t handle the emotion of him, or the tension that sizzled in the air around us.

And then, Fox leaned toward me, his eyes glittering. He muttered into my ear, making my spine shiver. “Don’t think for a minute I don’t remember,” he said.

My smile was electric, nearly ripped my cheeks with its force. My fingers twitched on the grass between us until suddenly, they were touching his. My heart began to hammer in my chest, thrusting against my ribs. Lily-Rose rushed to her feet with the emotion of the music, truly feeling the crescendo. But Fox and I were building something else, falling into feeling. Fox drew his fingers along mine until his fingers touched the sensitive, soft skin at my elbow. He turned his eyes toward mine. The green hue caught the last of the summertime sunlight.

But no. All too soon, the song snapped to a close. The crowd around us howled, with Lily-Rose giddily banging her hands together. I yanked my arm from Fox’s touch, reminding myself what he’d done. That touch was just fueled by memories. It wasn’t real. And acknowledging it as anything else would ultimately destroy me. I knew that.

Back at the car, after over an hour of music, Lily-Rose rushed toward Fox and hugged him tightly. I realized that we’d gone nearly the entire day without Lily-Rose acting out, as she so often did. She hadn’t broken anything, hadn’t torn through the crowd, hadn’t even stomped her feet. She was balanced.

“That was so beautiful, Fox,” she told him, sounding sweeter, even, than she’d been before Billie had passed. “I hope we can go again.”

For a moment, Fox looked flustered. He glanced at me, patting her back, before leaning down and gripping her shoulders. “We can go listen to music whenever you want to, Lily-Rose,” he said. “I promise.”

I felt another stirring of rage in my stomach. He promised? Who was he kidding? He couldn’t keep a single promise. He’d told me that we’d build a life together. That we’d buy a house, have children. That the “music career” thing, out west, was just a pipedream. Not a reason to leave.

“Come back with us,” Lily-Rose said, gripping at his jeans. “You should come see my room.”

I lifted an eyebrow, taking in the eagerness of Lily-Rose’s face. She pouted, almost diving into a tantrum. Before she fell into it, I shrugged, saying, “Sure. But only for a minute. You need to get to bed.”

I knew I was getting myself into trouble.

Five minutes after we arrived at my little blue house, Lily-Rose nibbled on a cookie and passed out on the couch. Her lips were open and soft snores escaped, floating through the air. Fox stepped forward, lifted her into his arms, and carried her toward the steps. With a final glance back at me, he said, “I’ll just tuck her in. One second.”

The words were too tender, coming from him. The moment he disappeared, I plopped on the edge of the couch, placing my face in my hands. The information was far too contrasting. How could I ever trust him, after what he’d done to me? How could I possibly allow myself to feel this sexual energy?

My breasts were tender, the nipples hard against my shirt. My eyelids felt heavy, my heart pumping with lust. I pictured it—him walking back downstairs and tearing at my clothes, tossing them to the ground.

Fox appeared in the living room once more, a dominant, dark force, gazing down at me. I removed my face from my hands and stood. There was five feet between us, and a million little lies. A million things unsaid.

“Don’t promise her you’re always going to be around,” I suddenly blurted. “I know you’re not reliable.”

“Why don’t you think the shit I’ve been through is enough to change my mind about some things, huh?” Fox demanded, his voice guarded. He stepped toward me, his eyes burning. “I know it’s not something we’re talking about. But I’ve been through hell and back, since I left this fucking town. And I know you have, too.”

It was happening. I felt myself falling into the power of him. Cowering slightly, I spoke with a soft, string-like voice. “It’s just, back then, I loved you so much. I wanted so much from you. So much you couldn’t give me. Back then, I mean.”

Suddenly, he tore through the distance between us, gripping my waist. He thrust me against the far wall of the living room. My head knocked back against the wall, so that my eyes were drawn into his. He seemed almost like a wild animal, unable to control himself. My fingers gripped his biceps, squeezing at their thickness. But I couldn’t match him in speed. His lips were upon mine, parting my lips and bringing his tongue into the soft pink of my mouth. I closed my eyes. His thumb glided along my braless nipple, completely uninhibited. He ran his hand beneath my shirt, ripping it over my head and breaking the kiss for just a moment as we gazed at each other, breathless, longing. My breasts spilled into his hands, and he pressed them hard against me so that I was flung harder against the wall.

The pain of it was electric. It filled my pussy with desire. I was wet, pulsing for him. I spread my legs wide and forced one of his hands between my legs. He gripped at my pussy over my shorts, rubbing his thumb against the center of me. The clit of me.

“Fuck!” I cried out. “Fuck me—“

I was no longer rational. I was lost in him, in a wave of feeling. He thrust my shorts down to my ankles, diving to his knees so that his mouth was directly in line with my pussy. He inhaled the scent of me, licking his lips.

“I’ve been dreaming of this,” he said, his voice sounding animalistic, gritty. Reaching forward, he brought his fingers along the line of my pink pussy lips, feeling at the wetness. His fingers glistened with my juices, and I ached for him, to be filled by him.

I could almost remember what it was like.

With a jolt, he lifted me from against the wall and carried me to the couch, gently tossing me across it so that I bounced, my breasts pulsing up and down. He spread my legs wide, gruffly, and leaned into me, his tongue once more visible between his lips.

“Beg for me,” he told me. “Or I won’t do it.”

I gripped my breasts, straining at his strong hands which held onto my thighs. In the silence, he ripped his shirt over his head, displaying his six-pack abdomen in the lamplight. His cock strained against the fabric of his jeans. His girth was incredible—thick, throbbing.

“Please, baby. Please. Lick me. Lick me until I cum,” I cried, unable to handle another moment more.