Epilogue
Jona
The funny thing about blow jobs—I know what you’re thinking, not this again—is how they’re inappropriate to think about when your Mom’s crying as she unties the ribbon on a present she hasn’t even opened yet. But Justine’s wearing these tight black stockings, and I can see up her red dress. She’s not wearing panties because my succubus knows what her victim likes.
Eddy rubs Mom’s back and gives me a look like you know your mother.
And I do. Thanks to him, the man who kept her safe all these years. And to my step-sister, who walked into Crystal Gulf and forced me to face my past.
“It’s our first Christmas together again,” she sniffs, tracing her name I wrote on her present. To: Mom. From: The best damn son in the world. She laughs through her tears, making Justine shake her head across the room with a smile on her face. “You are the best son ever.”
“Best lay ever too,” Justine mouths, trailing her fingers over her thighs.
I shake the lust from my brain before it clouds my thoughts. “Mom,” I groan. “Just open the gift.”
“All right, all right.” She pulls the ribbon loose and then pries open the box, gasping as she pulls out the picture frame I spent hours shopping for to get just right. It’s a picture of me.
“It’s not as cute as the one from when I was five, but I think it’s pretty damn close. Plus, you need something new for the picture wall upstairs.” I shrug casually.
But she’s not casual about anything. She pushes to her feet and falls on me, wrapping me in her arms as she cries on my lap. “Oomph,” I groan, catching my breath. My arm’s still healing from the second surgery, but it’s already a million times less Frankenstein than before. The surgeon said I should retain a hundred percent use of it once it heals.
“I love it,” she whispers.
“I guess we can open the rest later.” I wrap my arms around her, and we watch Monika open her gifts near the huge white Christmas tree I helped Eddy put up.
She’s despondent, pulling the ribbons free without much vigor. Mikael never called or claimed the plane ticket Eddy bought him. Eddy isn’t much better. He’s still kneeling, trying to force the cheer in the room for Mom, but he wants his missing piece.
Mom settles beside him and rubs his back. She’s a lot happier these days. So am I. But I catch Justine’s eyes across the room and we both nod, making our escape because I haven’t been able to leave my mother’s side much since we got here.
“This is like the best Christmas ever. Look at this iPad. It’s almost as big as our TV. Totally makes up for all the crying, doesn’t it, Lover?” She wiggles it at me for proof, smile sad and somehow glowing as the screen appears with a black and white image.
I grab the iPad from her and stare at the picture. “Is that …?”
“A sonogram? Why, yes, it is.” She touches her small bump proudly, much happier now that she made it past the morning sickness this time around.
I kiss her in my parents’ kitchen, the sound of Christmas songs at my back, my mother’s tears on my shirt, and the smell of turkey in the air. Justine’s smile rises against my lips, and my second chance is growing in her stomach.
“You’re right. This is the best Christmas ever.”
She holds her left hand up, gazing adoringly at her engagement ring. “I’m not into diamonds and stuff, you know that. I’m a pretty simple girl. But this ring makes me so horny every time I look at it. I’m so glad I’m not wearing panties.”
“Why don’t we sneak upstairs, and I can open the rest of my presents?” I slip my hand between her thighs and touch her heat, finding her stockings wet.
“The kitchen is for eating. Not foreplay, Jona.” Mom covers her eyes and moves around us, grabbing potholders. “Honestly,” she huffs in disgust.
I smirk at Justine’s reddened face and remove my hand, giving it a sniff when Mom’s not looking. “What can I say? She can’t get enough of me.”
“Ah, let them be in love. When the baby gets here, they’re not going to have time to talk, let alone do anything.” Eddy grabs the potholders from her, taking over getting the turkey out of the oven. “Grandma,” he adds knowingly.
Mom melts into a puddle of tears and goo. “Grandma,” she repeats, grinning as she sobs.
Mom is a sad person. The years of trauma from her rape, the lasting effects of the drug use, and the emotional torment of not having me along with prison, did a lot of irreparable damage to her. Unlike my own, which had festered on the inside, Mom couldn’t keep her damage inside whatsoever. We all let her cry because at least she’s smiling as she does.
“You’re going to be an amazing grandmother,” I assure her, swallowing the lump in my throat. Maybe she’s rubbing off on me.
Maybe feeling isn’t being weak. Weakness is not letting anything in for fear it will gut you. I’m sick of being weak.
Joy lights her face as her heart weeps. She wraps me in her arms again. I’m okay with this too. I spent too long without feeling this. Without trusting my happiness. And there’s so much left to feel and trust.
“Group hug!” Monika squeals, wrapping her arms around Elisa. Eddy gives Justine a little shove toward us. She scowls as she does it, but I catch her little smile when she thinks I’m not looking.
As if I’d ever look anywhere else.
***
Justine
Pain.
I’d felt it before, but it had been at least nine months since it was this apparent. I had grown used to contentment, to love. Around Jona, it was impossible not to. He wasn’t different, just better. Happier. Not as quick to fight as he was to simply feel.
But this hurt.
“You can do this, baby,” he whispers in my ear as I take a breath from pushing. “You’re strong. In and out.”
I know strength too. It’s what it took to get here. Running, only to realize how beautiful staying in one place could be. Making mistakes, only to learn how amazing it felt to finally get it right. All the fear, only to understand what fearlessness could give me.
This ruin has started to transform. The rubble and decay have started to change. There’s structure now, with a smattering of dandelion weeds—there’s still some magic left to us.
“You ready, Daddy?” a nurse asks, handing Jona a bundle wrapped in blue.
Jona stares down at his newborn son with a look on his face that makes my heart swell. It’s happiness at its most basic, fundamental level. It’s love, hope, and magic rising from the rubble to soar. He blinks at our son; a clear trail of tears catches the corner of his eye and trails down his nose, dripping onto the blue blanket.
He smiles through his tears. “Chance,” he whispers. “I know what you’re thinking. Your old man is about as gorgeous as they come, but he doesn’t have anything on you.” Then he turns his love-filled eyes on me, and in my heart, I know that our little family is forever. “You want to meet our son?”
I nod silently, unable to speak through the block in my throat.
Jona settles Chance into my arms and sits beside us both, resting his head on mine as I notice how steady my hands are around my son. A fierce sense of protectiveness burns through my blood as his little body nestles in my arms. He will only know happiness. He will only know love. His smooth scalp his sprinkled with a patch of light brown toffee-colored hair. His eyes are closed, and his little pink hands are curled into fists. His fussing only makes him cuter.
“Hi, Chance.” I kiss his pink cheek as he squirms. “He’s so beautiful.”
“What did you expect?” Jona runs his finger down the same cheek I kissed. “His parents are hot as … heck,” he finishes, cleaning up his language.
Already he’s different. Jona’s never given up who he is, but for the first time who we are, or even who we were, doesn’t matter. All that does matter is who our son becomes. We’re going to do our best to fix what our parents broke. We’ll stop the vicious cycle of recycled pain and hurt. We won’t let him become who we were, even if we found our way eventually.
“Okay, my turn again.” Jona reaches down carefully and picks Chance up, not letting him go until the nurses tear him away for his checkup.
I don’t know who’s worse, Jona, or his mother.
Elisa is a wounded soul. Her choices and loss rearranged her heart, and though she smiles as often as she cries, I know what Chance already means to her. He’s a second chance for all of us. Jona, me, Elisa, and even Eddy, since his son has been MIA for over a year.
After I’ve been cleaned up and Chance is settled beside my bed, the Brickwells come in. His mother can barely make it into the room before she’s breaking down. I glance worriedly at the nurse, but she seems to get the hint and ducks out with a quiet promise to return in a minute.
“Mom,” Jona warns, handsome and tired. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are exhausted, but it’s a mess that happiness created and it’s unbearably beautiful. “You promised. Breathe.”
She takes a deep breath, peering into the bassinet. “Oh, Jona, he’s so beautiful.” She tries to keep it in, but her cries return. “Can I hold him?”
She takes a seat in the rocking chair and carefully takes hold of her grandson for the first time. It’s love at first sight. “He looks just like you,” she coos. “So innocent and sweet. I’m never letting you go,” she promises Chance, eyes suddenly fierce, defiant.
I look to Jona, who’s hovering over them both.
Fierce.
Protective.
Mine.
***
Jona
Four years later
I close my front door softly—I don’t know if the kids are sleeping—and walk carefully inside.
Justine’s in the kitchen, pouring over her textbooks as she rocks Hope back and forth in her arms. Supermom. That’s what she is. She’s been going to night school for the past two years to get her Bachelor of Social Work degree. She says she wants to “save the Jonas of the world.” I think it makes me love her even more.
“Pst,” I whisper, catching her gaze when she looks up curiously. Her hair is in a messy bun, and her eyes are exhausted, but the woman is stunning. The burning in her eyes never goes out. “You want me to take her?”
“Please,” she whispers, giving me a tired smile.
I carefully lift our daughter and sit down across from my wife, pressing kisses to her sleeping face. Chance looks like me, but Hope is her mother. Mahogany hair, deep brown eyes, and a small hint of olive to her skin. Just like Justine. At two, she’s become a small version of her mother as well. It’s a good thing I have Chance; otherwise, I’d be done for.
“Coffee?” Jus asks, grabbing the pot. I give her a nod, rocking Hope softly. “I have an exam tonight and a shift at the office. Eddy’s taking on a few low-income patients, and the insurance paperwork’s going to be insane.”
She works at Eddy’s psychiatry office as his assistant. “Is Mom watching the kids tonight, then? I have class too.” These days, our plates are full. I work days at a job I hate, busting my ass for low pay at a mechanic shop. I’m a few months away from my bachelor’s degree and have already been accepted into Texas Law thanks to Eddy. Three more years and I’ll be a lawyer. I want to do it myself, but my kids don’t have time for me to be prideful. I took the help. Plus, it wasn’t like I had a choice. Eddy never took no for an answer and Mom would just lay the guilt on.
In a way, my mother owns me even more now than she did when I was a child, when I longed for her all those years. Because I no longer blame my mother for running. She’s wired differently, and by the sounds of it, she always has been. We’ve spent the last few years getting to know each other inside and out; there are no secrets. I don’t mention my sperm donor, and she doesn’t either. I can’t fault her for being mentally unstable, for trying to protect me the only way her mind knew how. I can only forgive.
Jus sets down a mug of coffee and then wraps her arms around my shoulders, pressing her lips over my ear. “Yes. She’s spending the night too, so I thought we’d go out after work and class. Grab some tacos and beer and then do it in our car like we used to.” Her soft lips find my pulse and kiss me there.
It takes everything I have to keep me in my seat. She loves to torture me and gets off on my desire and lust. Succubae never lay dormant for long. Even if her kids come first, and we can go weeks without having time to kiss each other—let along love each other—she’s still my biggest weakness. “Count me in.”
“Mmm,” she purrs, running her fingers through my fade. Her lips travel across my jaw, and her body leans around to find my lips, delving her tongue into my mouth as her tits press enticingly against my back. She tastes of coffee and cream, this deep dark taste that makes me dizzy with lust. “It’s a date then, Lover. Chance is in his bedroom watching a movie. He needs a bath. I’m going to go shower.”
I take a deep breath when she’s gone and stand with Hope, bouncing her in my arms on my way into the living room. Well, it was a living room when we bought the house. Now it’s a playroom, bedroom, laundry room, and dinner table. I set Hope down in her rocker, grab the monitor, and then head into the hall for Chance’s room.
He’s on his stomach, kicking his little sock-clad feet back and forth as he watches Shrek. His lips move, reciting every line by heart. When Donkey cracks a joke, he giggles uncontrollably, making me smile. Every time I look at my son, I feel overwhelming peace. This is love and beauty and doing things right.
This is a family.
Home.
“You mind if I join?”
He looks up and smiles hugely at me, looking so much like me it shakes me sometimes. He is me, and it makes me sad for the little boy I’d been all those years ago. I want to hug him the way I hug my son, to tell him that it’s okay to be sad, to be afraid, and that hardening his heart made it so much harder to open it up again.
“Did you hear Donkey?”
I sink down beside him, touching his hair. “I still think his name is uncreative.”
He rolls his amber brown eyes at me, like man, my dad’s lame. “He’s a Donkey, Dad. What else is he supposed to be called?”
I shrug; working him up is the best. He may look like me, but he’s got his mother’s temper. “So, can I start calling you Human? It’s time for a bath, Human.”
He ignores my bath comment with a left eye twitch. “What’s Shrek again?”
“An ogre. It would sound pretty silly to call him Ogre, wouldn’t it? I bet you two smell the same.” I lean over and put my mouth close to his ear, catching his growing smile. “Like farts trapped in a jar of onions.”
Chance rolls onto his back and laughs uncontrollably, and I can’t help joining in. “Eww!” he squeals, sniffing his arm.
I sniff it too and gag, making his laughter intensify until he can’t breathe. “Bath time.”
“Not on my life!”
I fake glare, trying to smother my smile. “Are you defying me?”
He nods, unable to talk.
“You know what this means, right?”
“No!” he begs, trying to get away, but he’s weak from laughing, and I’m on him in no time. “No, Daddy! Don’t!”
I pull him onto my lap and find his tickly spot, just under his armpit, and set to tickling him into a laughing, slobbering mess. I can’t help laughing with him. “You going to pee?” I stop and check.
“No,” he assures me.
I continue my assault, flipping him over to get his back. The door opens, and Justine comes in. Seeing her dressed in her black slacks is enough to make me pause. Her ass is plump and sheathed in black, and I just want to sink my teeth into it. Her hair is straightened around her face, and her striped blue blouse looks so secretary-like. I want to play that fantasy.
“What’s going on in here?” She smiles easily, putting her hand on her hip. “I thought I told you to give him a bath.”
“Uh-oh. You got us both in trouble.” I shift him in my arms and set him on his feet. “Bathroom. Now.” I try and make my tone firm.
But my wife and son both smirk and roll their eyes.
“Yes, Daddy,” Chance says, bending to take his socks off. “Can we play diver at least?”
“What’s your deal with water and soap?” I kiss Justine on the cheek. “I’ve got it. I’ll meet you at the taco place, at … eight, yeah?”
She nods, stealing a kiss when Chance’s back is to us. Her hand slides down my chest to rub my cock through my dirty grease-covered jeans. “I’ll be there.” Her lusty eyes shift from fire to love. “Chance, kiss Mommy good bye. I have to go to work.”
He runs at her, kissing her all over her face. “Bye, Human.”
She picks him up and frowns at me. Then she shrugs because that’s not even the weirdest thing he’s said all day. “Here. He smells like Hope’s dirty diapers and your boxers.”
Chance can barely stand it, giggling as I take him. “I smell like poop!”
“That’s not something to be proud of.” I haul his wriggling body into the bathroom and get him in the tub. He’s dressed and eating dinner when my mom gets here. After smothering us both in hugs and kisses, she produces cookies and a brand new animated movie for Chance, making me obsolete.
“You got things here?” I smooth her hair down, soaking up the happiness in her eyes. “Got everything you need? Hope’s got enough milk, and he should be good for the rest of the night.”
She pats my hand. “We have everything we need, Jona. Everything.”
“Are those chocolate chip?” Chance’s spaghetti is already forgotten.
I wake Hope up, give her a bath, hand her off to Grandma, and then I wash my own ass for class tonight. I get my backpack and tie my shoes, kissing my son and daughter goodbye. Class is as draining as always. At seven-thirty, I stop and get a coffee before driving to meet Justine. I’m not twenty-two anymore, and chugging beer all night is going to be impossible without caffeine. I shake my head at myself. There was a time when beer wasn’t even strong enough; now it’s as strong as I get.
Spotting Justine’s Infiniti, I head inside of the Mexican restaurant, inhaling the scent of spices and heat in the air. Sweat drips down my temple; summer in Austin is brutal. It’s the only thing I miss about Crystal Gulf. The occasional ocean breeze would clear the sticky heat of Crystal Gulf, but I’d rather sweat than go back to that city.
“I’m here to meet someone,” I inform the hostess.
She looks at me blandly, and then does a double-take, lowering her eyes and giving me a shy smile. “What’s his name?”
She’s got to be at least eighteen, doe-eyed and innocent. She reminds me of Monika. “Her name is Justine. She’s my wife,” I add because I’m still not over being able to say that to people. We waited until Chance was one to get married, and we made Hope on our honeymoon in Bora Bora, thanks to my overly generous stepfather. Justine in a thong bathing suit, the South Pacific, sun, and sex—that had been my dream come true. My cock stiffens just thinking of her, head tossed back with the sun on her bronzed, wet skin … I clear my throat. I need tonight. It’s been too long since I touched her.
“Oh,” she mumbles, recovering quickly. “Right. She’s at the bar. You—”
I don’t wait for her to finish. I cut through the crowd and scour the bar, finding her talking with the bartender. I walk over in the middle of their conversation, cutting that one off too. I grab her face and tilt it up, capturing her lips. I wrap my tongue around hers and kiss her until she’s whimpering in my mouth. Pulling away, I wink, swallowing my own heavy breaths. “Hi.”
She laughs breathlessly. “Hi to you, too. What was that for?”
“Two Coronas,” I order, stiffening my tone for the bartender. She’s mine, dipshit. I fucking earned her, and it pisses me off when assholes think they can want what’s mine. “Thanks, bro.”
“No problem,” he drawls, turning around.
“I love it when you get all misogynistic caveman on me. Justine, mine. No touch.” But her eyes gleam chocolate.
The bartender sets down two ice-cold beers and takes off for another woman down on the other end.
“Ask me something boring,” she says, taking a long drink.
“What color are your panties?”
Her smile is pure temptress. “I took them off before I left the office. Boring, Jona. We can make love later.”
I take a drink of my beer, wishing it were sweet tea. Once Chance was born, beer felt like going backward. Unable to take it anymore, I push the full bottle aside and wave the bartender over. “Can I get a sweet tea and a menu?”
“Two sweet teas,” Justine intercedes, pushing her beer away too.
He frowns at us, probably wondering what the hell kind of freaks go to a bar and not order drinks.
Tacos, however, are never a bad idea. We order enough for four people and shove our faces, licking sour cream and hot sauce from our fingers while we talk about boring shit like bills and property taxes. It’s the fucking best.
After paying, she wraps her arms around mine, and we head out to our cars. “Let’s go to your parents’ place,” she says, her heels clacking on the concrete. “Eddy’s still at the office and Mom’s with the kids.”
I take off for my car, listening to her laugh as I struggle to get the keys in and start the car in record time. I’m out of the parking lot before her, racing down the busy streets of Austin to get to Eddy and Mom’s place. I’m waiting near my hood when she gets there. She gets out and follows me in, her heels in her hands.
The moment we get inside, and I unarm the alarm, I’m on her. Our lips tangle in the hall, and my hands are already roaming, tracing her curves and body heat. She starts walking us backward. “Where are we going?” I ask against her lips.
“The greenhouse,” she whispers back, kissing me long and deep on the back step in the yard.
The moon shines in through the glass of the greenhouse. There are no chrysanthemums growing anymore—I’m home now. The greenhouse is ripe of organic strawberries. The room is thick with the sweet tart scent. It makes me even hungrier. We undress each other in a rush of limbs and clothes, breaking our kiss long enough to rip our shirts over our heads before we’re back on each other.
She pushes me into the sitting area and shoves me back onto the couch. I land on my ass, ready for her when she falls onto my lap and straddles me, her bare tits glowing under the moon. I kiss down her throat and pepper the tops of her tits with kisses before I find one of her nipples. I pull it into my mouth and suck hard, relishing in her husky moans.
Her hands delve into my hair and tugs, holding my head in place as I suck on her hard flesh.
I find her heat and part her, stroking her burning wetness. Her hips wriggle to find my cock. I guide her in place, and then we both moan into the glass greenhouse as she sinks deeply onto my cock. Her tight heat is searing wrapped around me like this. She finds my lips and loves me, riding me with the most perfect erotic circles of her hips.
But I don’t want perfect right now.
I want us.
I grab a fistful of her ass and take control, forcing myself deeper inside of her. Her thighs quiver and she gasps in response, her lips barely able to keep hold of mine as I thrust into her. I feel her end come in a rush. Her pussy clenches around me and her muscles tighten—she orgasms in a wave of mahogany hair in the moonlight and wet moans into the crook of my neck.
“More,” she begs, meeting my eyes with nothing but crazy lust in hers.
Justine always gets what she wants from me.
I stand with her in my arms and walk over to the glass garden table, lying her down carefully. I shove her legs open wide and hold them by her kneecaps, and then I give her what she wants. Our hips meet roughly, and she looks like a succubus writhing in pure ecstasy-laden torture. Her hair is splayed on the crystal table, her tits are perky and nipples tight. I brace my hands on either side of her head and find her lips, kissing her as our muscles tighten and heat pools where we’re connected.
The harder I come, the harder I drive my hips into her. She moans into my mouth senselessly. Sweat coats my body. When my ears stop ringing, and she’s crushed beneath me, the glass table creaks. I lift her before it breaks. The smell of her perfume meets with our lovemaking, and it isn’t enough to have just been with her.
I want her again.
I grab her around her waist and pull her into my arms, not giving her a chance to say no before I’m driving inside of her again. But she grins, holding on to me as we make love standing up. Our eyes lock. The passion and fire between us is so bright, flames burn behind her pupils.
We collapse in the freshly turned dirt, our heavy breathing the only sounds I hear.
“Shower,” I manage.
I gather our clothes, and we both make slow go of working our way back into the house. Or limbs are heavy, but our smiles are high—that’s how it’s been for almost five years. Exhaustive, tired smiles that mean more than any other we’ve ever given. We shower upstairs together and then collapse on our old bed. Mom keeps the room clean and made up for us, and she turned the room across the hall into Chance’s dream room. At one point, she’d had a fit when she found out we were buying our own house.
“You can’t leave,” she’d argued, looking at Chance—he was barely walking then—with wide, fearful eyes.
“Isn’t this the whole point?” I reasoned. “Grow up, move out of Mom and Dad’s house?” I smiled sadly because that’s not what it was, but it felt good to finally be at that point in my life. “We’re just going to be down the road. It’s a five-minute drive. I timed it. We even got a four bedroom. One for you and Eddy. You can come over whenever you want.”
“Kid’s leave the coop,” Eddy chimed in, but even he was lackluster in his speech. “They fly away. We have to be okay with that, honey. We have to let them fly.”
Justine rolls over and into my arms, snuggling against my chest. “I love you,” she whispers tiredly.
I kiss her hair. “I’m crazy about you.”
It took a lot to get to this point. This incredibly beautiful peaceful point. The years of tribulation were in preparation for this. My pain made my happiness stronger, and thanks to years of therapy with Eddy, I was trying to look on the bright side of things. Not dwelling on the dark like I’d done for most of my life.
Plus, kids had a funny way of flipping your life upside down, and in my case, I loved looking at life from a different view.
“I miss the kids,” my wife whispers guiltily.
I laugh in surprise, patting her ass softly. “Let’s go home.”
That night, we sneak into our own house. We tiptoe into the living room to find Hope sleeping with my mom on the sofa, the TV playing quietly in the background. Hope is wide awake in her arms, playing with a strand of Mom’s hair.
When she sees us peeking over the back of the couch, she smiles and scurries down, running over and wrapping her arms around our legs. “Where go?” she asks, her soft voice a balm to every part of my soul.
I bend to pick her up, smoothing her cowlick down and finding her milk chocolate eyes in the dark. “Mommy got really hungry. She ate so many tacos, I had to carry her home.”
Hope giggles. “Tacos!” she squeals.
“Daddy?” Chance comes walking in, sleepy-eyed and dragging. “Mama?”
“Why aren’t you in bed?” Justine scoops him up.
“I was waiting for you and Daddy. Grandma couldn’t finish my book without crying.”
Justine and I both laugh quietly.
“Come on. Let’s go have story time.” Justine nudges Hope and me along.
We all settle into Chance’s bed. Hope in my arms, Chance in hers. We take turns reading stories to them until they both pass out in a tangle of limbs and cartoon pajamas. We kiss the kid closest to us and then walk around the bed to kiss the other, and then we stand at the foot of the bed and watch them sleep.
I know what she’s thinking. I know what she’s feeling. I know because I feel the same.
I grab her hand and hold her tight, watching my babies sleep with my wife, and I never want to change this moment. It replaces so much bad in my life.
It shatters the pain.
This happiness is too bright to let my ruin ever win again.
The End.