Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Dad had been down for three days after the doctor’s visit. Mom had been a mess. Neither of them would let me help with dad. Stubborn old fools. I’d heard him vomiting right after we had arrived home from Pearl’s. It had continued on into the night. I’d made mom her favorite, pea soup and hot buttered toast for dinner, and she’d actually let me massage her hands. It told me just how tough things were going with Dad. Dad continued to stay in his room, and I did the best I could to take care of Mom. She didn’t have much to say, but at least she allowed me to care for her.
It was after they both went to sleep that I would work on the big consulting project that I still needed to finish. I had kept my project managers, Eddie and Vanessa on as full-time employees when I had shut down my Chicago office. They were in charge of the seven contract developers, and it was my job to interface with the picky client.
I knew I was going to have to fly out next week for a face-to-face with Marshall and his Board. There was no way out of it. I’d take Eddie and Vanessa. We were on track to have a working prototype by then, if Marshall didn’t change his mind yet again. But he and I had discussed that, and if he did, I’d have no choice but to put him on the spot in front of his Board of Directors. They wouldn’t be pleased with him, considering how much they were paying my company.
My cellphone pinged with an incoming text. It was eleven at night. A little late for a Wednesday. Hell, a little late for any day of the week. When I turned it over I saw it was from a Tennessee area code that I didn’t recognize. Then I read the text.
Unknown: How’s your dad doing?
Fallon: Who is this?
Unknown: It’s me, Michael. I guess you deleted my number.
Fallon: You think? Dad’s finally recovered from his lunch at Pearl’s.
Michael: Ouch.
I waited for Michael to text something, because I didn’t know what to say to him.
Michael: I’m sorry I horned in the other day. I shouldn’t have done that.
Fallon: Yeah, it wasn’t your best move.
I watched the bubbles popping for a long time, so I knew it was going to be a long text.
Michael: When I heard that you were back in town, I had to see you. I’ve thought about you a lot over the years. I’ve even thought about going to Chicago, but I figured you’d just kick me to the curb, or in the nuts. But now that you’re back, I can’t help myself. I need to see you. I need to talk to you. I need to hold you. Losing you was the worst thing that’s happened in my life.
I pressed my phone against my forehead, and my eyes got gritty. I wondered what I would have done if he had said this right after I’d left. Hell, even a year after I left. If he sincerely apologized and told me what had gone wrong, what would I have said? But I’m not twenty-two, I’m thirty-one.
Fallon: I’m sorry you feel that way. I really am. But too much water has passed under the bridge.
More bubbles.
Michael: I get that. But in the meantime, I think you need help. I know you probably have Maddie, but I know she has a big job. Will you let me help?
Had he hit his head and scrambled his brains at some point when I was gone? The man was coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs.
Fallon: That’s the worst idea I’ve heard in the last two years, and I work with deranged clients all the time.
Michael: But you do need help, don’t you? You can admit that, can’t you?
I rolled my neck, trying to release the tension. It wasn’t working.
Fallon: Yes, help would be nice, but I’m thinking about hiring nurses to come in and help. I can afford it, and they would know what to do.
Michael sent me the rollie eye emoji and the laughing emoji.
Michael: I’d like to be a fly on the wall when you suggest that to your dad.
The tension in my neck was spiking upwards into my brain. Great. Just great. I was going to end up with a hell of a headache.
Fallon: It’s your fault.
Michael: What’s my fault?
Fallon: The headache I’m getting.
Michael: I’m sorry. But Fallon, you know Bob will never go for in-home care. He wants family, or someone like me, helping him.
Yeah, because he was the golden child, unlike me.
Fallon: What about your job?
Michael: I can trade shifts if need be.
Fallon: I don’t even know what you do. In college you studied forestry.
Michael: I’m a firefighter.
I frowned.
Fallon: How did you get into that?
Michael: After my stint in the Army, I wanted to come back home. It seemed like a good fit.
Fallon: Wait a minute, you joined the military?
Michael: Yeah, didn’t you know?
Fallon: Michael, I didn’t keep up on you. Hell, I didn’t keep up on anything about Jasper Creek except my parents.
Michael: I would have thought Maddie might have mentioned it.
I snorted.
Fallon: Maddie knew better than to mention your name. Even when she came out to visit, we talked about what she was doing, her job and her sisters. Your name never came up.
I waited for a response. I thought he might have just stopped the text chain.
Michael: Maddie mentioned you to me. I looked you up. I watched your career take off.
Fallon: Why would you check up on me? That doesn’t any make sense.
Michael: One day I’ll tell you. In the meantime, I’m serious about helping. From what I saw you have too much going on. Are you still working?
Fallon: Yeah, I have a big client that my team and I are working with, I have to go out of town to meet with their board of directors next week.
Michael: How can I help?
Fallon: Why would you want to?
Michael: I like your parents, but more importantly, I want to help you. Will you let me?
Fallon: I need to think about it.
Michael: Look, I need to go. I need to catch some sleep. But get back to me, okay?
I ran my finger down my phone cradled in my hand.
Fallon: I will. Good night.
Michael: Good night, Sunshine.
Agh!
Fallon: Don’t call me Sunshine!
I waited for long minutes. Of course, there was no reply.
I tossed my cell onto my bed and watched it bounce. Michael needed to quit calling me Sunshine. A guy I dated called me that one time; he was lucky he didn’t get throat-punched.
I looked at my laptop and nothing on the screen made sense.
Dammit!
It was now eleven-thirty. I normally worked til one or two in the morning. I needed to test what the team had developed in the last two days. I knew my quality control people were top notch, but this was my brainchild, and nobody knew it better. Still, if my brain wasn’t working, it would be useless for me to go through the code.
“Fuck me,” I mumbled. It was just another black mark in Michael’s ever-increasing tally. At least it was a mark in the con column, because lately there had been too many in the pro column.
“He’s a cheat. That should trump all the pros!” I hissed to myself.
I went to my suitcase. I found my bottle of Angel’s Envy. It wasn’t their small size, either. I looked over at my old high school desk that I’d been working on, where my tall water glass sat. Why hadn’t I packed a whiskey glass? I damn well should have. I’d packed good bourbon, I should have packed one of my engraved crystal highball glasses, I swear my drink always tasted better when I sipped it from one of those.
I took my unopened bottle over to the desk, downed the water that was left in my glass, then opened the bourbon and poured in a hefty shot or three. After the first long, fiery gulp I could feel the world coming back into focus, and what a lovely focus it was. I glanced at my laptop and shut it down. There was no point trying to work tonight.
This time I took a small, savoring sip and smiled as I set down the water glass.
“Much better,” I murmured.
I picked up my phone and read over the text string. Yep, he was the same good guy I’d loved all those years ago, only hotter. What in the hell had gone wrong? I needed to go to bed and get a good night’s sleep.
He cupped my jaw, and I arched into the touch, wanting more. I hadn’t seen Michael for two months, and just the feel of his hand on my cheek was overwhelming.
“I’ve missed you, Sunshine.”
I loved it when he called me that. My hands dug into his waist, twisting his T-shirt.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“A friend loaned it to me for the weekend.”
I stared up at him, then rested my head against his chest so I could listen to his heartbeat. Every time I was wrapped in his arms, I felt loved. Even more than that, I felt safe. He was my anchor in the storm that was my life.
“Do you want to look around?” He whispered the question.
“Is there a bedroom that you want to show me?”
He squeezed me tighter. “God, yes.”
Michael kept one arm around my shoulder as he picked up my suitcase and led me through a cozy living room and down the hall to a dream bedroom. Dappled sunlight filtered from a skylight and four windows. The soft slivers of sun added depth to the handmade quilt that covered the bed. Two of the windows were open and brought in the fresh scent of pine.
“Do you like?” he asked.
I spun around and clasped my arms around his neck. “I love.”
His lips crashed down on mine, and fire scorched through my veins. His tongue thrust into my mouth and I moaned as I tasted him. So good. So damn good.
One hand scraped through my hair, pulling out my scrunchie, then his fingers tangled in my hair. I couldn’t tell if he meant to pull my hair or not. All I knew is that it felt good. My neck arched, then he started trailing kisses down my throat. I shivered.
I don’t know how, but suddenly we were lying across the bed, his weight resting on me. I gloried in the feel of Michael on top of me, pressing me deep into the mattress. I was bombarded with sensation after sensation. I lifted one hand from his neck, trying to figure out where to touch him, but he pulled both of my wrists upward, then caught them in one hand over my head.
“But,” I tried to argue.
“Trust me,” he whispered.
I was lost. I hardly recognized Michael. Who was this guy? This man? In two months, he seemed to have changed in ways I couldn’t have possibly imagined. Assertive, and sexy. My eyes fluttered closed.
“Always. I’ll always trust you.”
“And I’ll do my best to live up to your trust. I love you, Sunshine.”
Michael’s hand stroked down the side of my body, then inward, and he began to unbutton the wide, yellow buttons on my sun dress.
“I love your dresses. They fit you, Fallon. They’re happy, like you are.”
“You make me happy,” I gasped. It was true. For years, I hadn’t known what happiness was, then one day I looked up during high school English and saw him. It was like I put on prescription sunglasses. Everything came into focus and the color became bright and vibrant.
Michael’s hand cupped my breast over my frothy pink lace bra. His thumb grazed over my nipple and I pushed up, trying to coax him to apply more pressure. He didn’t… the tease.
Michael chuckled.
He knew what he was doing.
He pulled back the cup of my bra, then he lightly stroked his stubbled cheek against my furled nub, and I shrieked. The feeling sent me into overload.
“Like that?”
“I, I-I’m not sure.”
“Then let’s try it again.” He smiled. This time his cheek brushed harder against my nipple. I drew in a deep breath to let loose again, then his mouth covered mine as he pinched the same peak he’d just teased. I would have lunged off the bed, if he hadn’t been on top of me. The pleasurable torture was beyond anything I could imagine.
I would have pulled him closer, but he still had my hands locked above me.
After long minutes, Michael pulled back and looked down at me. His pupils so large, his eyes were almost black, instead of their normal gray.
“The way you respond blows my mind. You were made for me.”
I was breathing so hard, I could only push out one word. “Same.”
Michael gave me his wicked grin. The grin that always hit me between my legs, no matter where we were, or who we were with.
“Let me go. Please,” I begged. “I need to touch you.”
He did.
I tugged at his head, trying to pull him down for another kiss, but he didn’t budge.
“Michael—”
“Uh-uh. I want to play.”
“So do I.”
His hands moved around my torso and unhooked my bra, then lowered the straps down my arms. He lifted me up and soon my bra, dress, and panties were somewhere on the floor.
I shivered. It felt weird, with me being naked while he still had all of his clothes on. He rolled to his side. His hand began to trail lazy patterns all over my body. He’d start at my jaw, then traced a line down my throat down to my chest, and around my breast, ignoring my nipple, before making a languid trip down my stomach. He circled and circled and circled my belly button, until I was panting with need. I lifted up, wanting more. Needing him to move his fingers down. Down to my sex.
Michael chuckled.
“I don’t like this game,” I grumbled.
“I love touching you, Fallon.”
Finally, his fingers moved, spearing through my curls and parting the lips of my sex.
“So wet for me.”
“Yes,” I whimpered.
I spread my legs, eager for him to deepen his caress.
He slicked my juices around my clit, playing me like a virtuoso would play their favorite musical instrument.
I moaned, pretty sure I pleaded for more. God only knew what I was saying. What I was begging for.
Michael chuckled. Two of his thick fingers speared inside of me, and I exploded. My world contracted to one precious point before expanding to encompass the entire universe. Stars flew by me, each one the color of Michael’s eyes.
I felt him lift away from me.
“No! Don’t leave me. I need you inside me.”
He chuckled. “That was the plan.”