42. Tee
Tee
Later that day
S omehow, for a woman accustomed to performing in public, it feels like I’m exposing more of myself when I hit play on one of my mp3s than it did when he spread my legs out on the range.
I stare woodenly at the floor, not wanting to see his reaction as he pops the tab on a beer and takes a deep sip before settling back on the couch with me.
When he sighs, I bite my lip. He kicks up his feet next, crossing them at the ankle on the coffee table in front.
In barely no time at all, he’s relaxed. His eyes drift, but his fingers tap along the can in time to the chords.
I know I shouldn’t need his validation, but I crave it, nonetheless.
I give him my full focus, knowing that I’ve lulled him in with the haunting, piercing notes from my oboe, combined with the violino piccolo dancing along until, finally, there’s a roar from my English horn that has his head jolting forward and his eyes widening.
“Holy shit!” he exclaims with a laugh, grin wide. “I didn’t expect that.”
I shrug. “Didn’t think you would.”
His smile looks like something I want to taste.
Because I’m apparently needy, I shuffle across the couch and straddle him before twisting to the side so I can settle in the crook between the armrest and him.
His arm curves around me like this is the thousandth time we’ve done this, and I place my ear above his chest, wanting to hear his heartbeat in time to the music.
When his lips dance over my temple, I ask myself what the hell I’m doing.
You can’t keep a man like Cody Korhonen a dirty little secret forever, nor would I want to. I just need a moment to process.
Once upon a time, my instinct would have been to yell our relationship to the world. His ‘Dear John’ changed something in me.
He wouldn’t know that, but I can feel it. An insecurity that wasn’t there before. It’s like when you twist your ankle and it’s weak for months afterward. Only, I don’t want to be weak. I want to be strong. But it’s rough.
This is the first time I’ve ever had someone to cherish, someone who gets me and my quirks, someone who isn’t Zee or Parker.
This feels real.
And it would have been wholly wonderful if it weren’t for that goddamn letter.
When the harmony shifts from a haunted tone to a more upbeat one, I take note of his heartbeat again.
The crescendo builds differently this time, slowly but surely, approaching the point where I want someone lulled into another false sense of security.
There’s a bluff and he falls for it—at least, his heart tells me he does.
Loosening up, he relaxes into the cushions, then the cacophony of all the sections combining pierces the air and has him half-sitting and taking me with him.
When, twenty seconds later, the music cuts off and a slower-building track commences, he flops back into the couch. “Holy fuck. That was like a roller coaster ride.”
I smile into his shirt. “Do you like roller coaster rides?”
“I’m a fighter pilot. Bet your ass that was how I got my kicks when I wasn’t allowed to fly!”
When he jerks me onto his lap, I yelp but straddle him. He isn’t rocking an erection. (Yet.) But this way, I can literally look into his eyes and see his excitement.
“Damn,” he praises. “That was fire. I could totally see that being used in an action scene, couldn’t you? The good guys keep thinking they’ve made it, only for the enemies to get in their way.”
“It’d be a sad ending,” is all I say, failing at sounding cool when he dumps his can on the closest side table and presses his hands onto my hips.
“Yeah, the good guys definitely lost but what a ride. I think you should send that track for sure.” His eyes dance with excitement. “You’re really good at this, Tee. I knew you had to be. The music stuff—that’s a given.” He snags my hand and rests it on his thudding heart. “Feel that. You did that.”
His words are like sugar. Addictive and delicious.
Needing to taste that sweetness for myself, I dip down and press my lips to his mouth. He sighs into the kiss, letting me take charge. In the background, the volume of the current composition grows. It makes my blood rise. The adrenaline pumping from his praise as well as his appreciation.
To be understood is so. Damn. Hot.
I slip down his lap, wanting more contact. Craving it. The second my pussy rubs over his dick, that erection I was missing earlier is back with a vengeance.
He groans against my lips then chases my tongue. It’s like a competition and there’s no winner apart from, ya know, both of us. And the way our hearts race syncs perfectly with the tempo of the track in the background. I love that I can feel his heartbeat. My fingers dig in and cling, loving that secret knowledge I have over him.
The desperate need for more overtakes me and I retreat, ignoring his growl when he chases my mouth. One second, I’m straddling his lap, the next I’m between his knees.
He hisses at the sight of me there and, though in the past, I’ve been crap at head, I decide that his value of my art deserves a 110% effort.
(Even if that’s mathematically impossible.)
(He deserves the impossible.)
His pupils are blown when my hands stroke over his thighs, nails dragging along them before I shuffle closer. I don’t reach for his zipper though, just lock my eyes on his as I settle my mouth over the thick length that’s clearly visible through his pants.
When I breathe on him, sending hot air through the fabric, he jolts and moans my name.
E1.
Oh, fuck. My name is music when he says it like that.
Loving the note and wanting to hear more of it, I repeat the action, making sure to anoint each inch as I go from base to tip with my hot breath.
By the time I get to the head, his fingers are scraping through my hair, tugging at it like I’m tormenting him.
Confidence buoyed, I snag the zipper with my teeth and swirl my tongue around it.
“Jesus, Tee,” he croaks.
Surprised that I’m affecting him this much, I blink. Then, not wanting the momentum to drop, I let my tongue fall to the zip and flutter it along the metal tines as I liberate him.
“You’re making me so fucking hard right now, baby girl.”
His cock is lodged deep inside the crotch of his pants, so he doesn’t flop out, which I’m kinda glad about because I don’t think I could make that look sexy. So instead, eyes still on him, I unfasten the button at the waistband, then pull him free.
“Fuck, Tee. The fuck are you doing to me? I’m so close to blowing?—”
“Over my face?” I tease huskily.
“Don’t even—” He snarls when the spit I’ve gathered in my mouth, I let fall onto his tip. “Holy fuck!”
As gravity helps us both, his hips buck and his fingers tighten to the point of pain.
Oh .
I didn’t know I liked that but I do.
Shuddering in delight, I work up more saliva, clued in enough to know that sloppy head is the best kind of head.
“Sweet fuck. I need this, baby. You’re so goddamn good at this?—”
Using my hand, I spread the spit I already coated him in then pop the tip into my mouth. He hisses as he comes into contact with more heat. One thing a musician’s good at is spit control and he’s about to reap the rewards.
My tongue flutters over the vein at the back of his shaft, making sure that I trace every inch and anoint it with more wet heat. His hips buck in shock as I suckle each part, hard enough that, were it on his neck, he’d have a bunch of hickeys.
(I’m not against leaving love bites on his cock.)
“Jesus Christ.” He groans hoarsely. “Time out, Christy, time the fuck out!”
Ignoring him, I make it to the base, where I nip that little patch between his dick and balls before I suck in one and then the other, rolling them around my mouth.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” he demands, fingers tugging and pulling at my hair.
My body responds to the stimuli as I palpate the ball in my mouth, squeezing it as I suck down.
“FUCK! I’m going to come. You need to?—”
I let go, but as he sags in relief, I eye his glistening shaft with delight. Barely a second later, gobbling him into my mouth as I bob up and down, I’m thanking God for my lack of a gag reflex.
(He can prise the information out of my cold dead hands how I broke that reflex. It involved carrots when I was sixteen, the Heimlich maneuver administered by my nonna, and a visit to the doctor’s office. I still don’t know how that news didn’t break out in town.)
“Holy—shit. I’m gonna… Tee. Stop. You need to stop. Fuck—” He roars my name just as a massive crescendo of amplified crashing cymbals sounds on the speaker.
His hips pump, rocking him deeper into my face, and I make sure to swallow around him. His sounds are agonized as he explodes. Delightfully so.
I keep on swallowing, making sure to take every drop he gives me, then I run my hand over my throat and gently push at the sides.
“No more, Tee!” He yelps. “You trying to kill me?!” When I smile around him, he rasps, “What a way to fucking go.”
Slowly, I release him, sucking with every inch I free until he’s jerking, nerve endings twitching from the stimulation.
He’s panting when I let go of him, and, amusedly, I notice him quickly tuck his dick away, like he’s wanting to make sure I won’t get any ideas.
His eyes are dazed, his face is flushed, and honestly, I’ve never seen him look so flustered or so goddamn hot.
Attention fixed on him, I notice his is on my mouth, which is covered in saliva. He strokes a finger over my lips, swiping through the mess I made.
“That is the best blowjob I’ve ever had.”
I squirm on my knees then shriek when he yanks me up onto his lap again, this time with me sitting on his thigh. His hand lands on my leg, possessive yet also restraining.
“Did you want to kill me?”
“Suck your heart out through your urethra? Nah.”
His eyes twinkle. “Good to know.”
When his fingers curve inwards, I snag a hold of his wrist. “I’m fine.”
“No way,” he derides.
“Yes way. I’m fine,” I repeat, though my clit is definitely throbbing. “It’s nearly dinner. Though I, of course, just ate.”
“You were so fucking hot, Tee. On your knees for me like that. Where the fuck did you stuff my dick? It disappeared like you’re a magician.”
“Magicians never reveal their tricks.”
“Something to do with the magic circle, right?”
I smirk. “Right.”
He snorts, his face calm and his body relaxed, until he shifts his gaze over to the speakers that are playing a relatively gentle tune.
It’s because of how relaxed he is that I sense the difference when he grows tense.
Perplexed, I look around and see nothing that’d cause such a change in him.
He clears his throat. “Nice crystal.”
Confused, I find him staring at the amethyst cathedral I bought recently. “Erm. Thanks.”
I’m not sure what killed his buzz, but as quickly as he changed the subject, he shifts it again. “What other tracks do you have ready?”
We manage to listen to one more before Mrs. Abelman calls us for dinner. Cody’s mood is still far too somber for a man who, in his own words, experienced the best blowjob of his life, but I don’t push the topic. Especially when his mood doesn’t shove me aside—he repeats his offer to help me train Milord once we’ve eaten.
The conversation rarely lulls, mostly because there are a bunch of chatterboxes around the table—me, Callan, and Mrs. Abelman to name all three of them—but Cody’s quieter than usual. Quieter than I’d have expected for a man who got the girl today.
“What’s up with you tonight?” Colt asks halfway through dessert—a key lime pie that I need to eat for breakfast, lunch, and supper tomorrow.
Cody’s dessert fork scrapes the dish. “Did you know Uncle Clay was having an affair with Elena Frobisher?”
Colt doesn’t answer immediately, merely frowns at his brother. But seeing as the question drew the attention of the entire table, he reaches for his bottle of beer, takes a sip, and slowly dips his chin.
“You knew?” Cody demands in surprise.
“He loved her. I never said anything. How could I? Theo’s my best friend.”
He narrows his eyes. “Elena’s sick.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you offer to help them out?”
“I did. Several times. But Theo’s a proud man. I gave him the McAllister foreman job on top of his regular duties for a reason.” His brow furrows. “I don’t appreciate the accusation that I’m not there for my people, Cody.”
His jaw works. “No, sorry.”
“On top of that, I make sure that I clear their accounts whenever I’m in town. I’m doing what I can within the scope of what they’ll let me. John doesn’t like anything Korhonen, Cody. Clay’s the reason why.”
“I get it. Sorry, Colt. I was speaking with Bast today and he seemed to think Theo hadn’t told you.”
“He did, but he doesn’t mention it. I don’t prod an open wound. He knows I’m here to talk if he needs me.”
“He also said that there’s more of a disconnect between the town and us than we realize.”
I have to snort. “Of course, there is. The Seven Cs is Mount Olympus, Cody.”
“Oh, god, we’re not talking about Greek gods again, are we?” Callan groans.
I wag my finger at him. “You know I’m right, Pan?—”
“I am not a goat!”
“—tell them, Zee.”
My sista-from-another-mista takes a sip of her coffee. “She’s right. It doesn’t help that half the town’s terrified of Clyde and the other half’s worried he’ll destroy their business on a whim.”
Callan’s dessert fork clatters against the dish. “Past tense now that he’s in jail, surely?”
“Bast seemed to think he’ll get out of it,” Cody rumbles, shoving his dessert aside. “I hope he’s wrong.”
“Can we bribe a judge?” Callan chimes in.
That has Cody sighing. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“Elena Frobisher’s sick?” Lindsay inquires after whacking Callan’s hand with her spoon.
I pull a face. “Early onset Alzheimer’s.”
“Christ! She’s our age, Ida!”
Mrs. Abelman nods. “I’ve been sending over food for them since Blanche fell down the stairs.”
“Why did none of you tell me this?” Cody growls.
“Or me!” Lindsay sputters.
“You never liked Elena, Lindsay,” Mrs. Abelman states calmly. “And you, Cody, had plenty going on. You needed to find your footing here, not worry about something that’s outside of anyone’s control. Plus, you’d had that falling out with Sebastian and?—”
“What falling out?” Colton asks, his brows high. “First I hear about that.”
“Do any of you actually talk?”
That earns me a bunch of glowers.
Mrs. Abelman steamrolls over that with a grumbled, “Something to do with a girl. I take it you’ve made up?”
“Yeah.”
“How didn’t I know about this?” Colt demands.
“You’re not Zeus,”I insert lightly. “Or are you?”
Cody’s lips twist. “I sent nurses over there. By the sounds of it, Theo’s paying the ranch’s way, but they need extra help despite everything we’re doing.”
“John Frobisher always was damn difficult with charity.” Lindsay rubs the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “I can’t believe I haven’t heard anything in town.”
Mrs. Abelman clears her throat. “I heard that Elena was found in the Glovers’ general store walking around in her nightgown and that Tee helped Cody take her back to the ranch.”
“We really are on Mount Olympus.” Colt’s jaw locks. “I never heard anything about that.”
Lindsay’s hand tightens around her wineglass. “Why would Elena go to The General Store in her nightgown?”
“She was looking for me. I went to her one time after Clyde…” Cody breaks off. I wish I was sitting next to him so that I could hold his hand like I know Zee’s doing with Colt. “He...” Cody’s fingers dance over his cheekbone. “He almost broke my orbital bone. Elena took me to the doctor’s.”
“That bastard.” Lindsay’s fist bangs against the table. “I hope hell exists just so he can rot in it?—”
“What are you talking about, Cody?” Colt interrupts his mother’s diatribe.
“You were at UofS and he was mad at Callan.” Cody’s mouth tightens. “I distracted him by asking about enlisting.”
I glance at Callan and see that his pallor is peaking.
It can’t be nice hearing that your brother took a beating meant for you.
How many times did this happen?
And how did Clyde get away with it for so goddamn long?
Maybe Mrs. Abelman reads the expression on my face because she intones, “It was either shut up about it and keep my job and be here for the boys or lose my job and leave them entirely alone.” Her gaze pierces me to the quick. “Don’t judge the choices I made, Christy. Not until you walk a step in my shoes.”
My fist bounces off the table, making the dishes, glassware, and cutlery clatter. “Surely someone could have done something!”
“Against the most powerful man in town? You said it—the Korhonens aren’t mere mortals. Hell, not even Clay stopped him when he was alive. Clyde...” Mrs. Abelman’s nostrils flare. “He had a habit of threatening what you cared for most, and I couldn’t risk my job. Not when Lindsay was depending on me to keep her boys... I-I couldn’t keep them safe. That was too big of an ask when their biggest danger was their father. But in one piece? For the most part. They had me. They were cared for. I was a safe space. Only if I kept my job, though.”
“Nobody should have that much power,” I rasp, hurting for the boys, unable to imagine what kind of monster they were raised by.
“You think I didn’t want to kill him myself?” Mrs. Abelman snarls. “You know how many poisons they have on a ranch? It’d have been so easy to doctor his food. Some days, I used to wish I had the guts but?—”
Lindsay snags a hold of Mrs. Abelman’s hand. “I’m sorry I put that on you, Ida.”
“You had no choice, Lindsay.”
“Elena said that Clay wanted to marry her,” Cody inserts. “But he didn’t dare because he thought Clyde would hurt her. She said it’s half the reason he started an affair, because it had to be a secret.”
“What a horrible situation to bring Elena into,” Lindsay declares. “Sounds so unlike Clay. He was always a gentleman.”
“She says Clyde killed Uncle Clay.”
“She’s sick,” Mrs. Abelman inserts. “As much as I think he’s capable of that and worse , you can’t take her word for it. Blanche told me that she doesn’t know her head from her tail some days.”
“That’s why I can’t take a statement. It’s not like I’m going to open an investigation into his death.” Cody pins Mrs. Abelman with a look. “Did either of you suspect anything?”
“That your father killed his brother?” Mrs. Abelman laughs. “Of course.”
Lindsay mutters, “Especially after Clay tried to help us escape.”
A stillness settles over the table.
Colt’s the first to break it with a growled, “What?”
Honestly, men—why can’t they just talk?!
“Do you seriously think I wanted to leave you with that monster? After I got away, do you know how close I was to...” Her eyes close. “Only Ida kept me going with her updates about you. But that wasn’t enough. I started following Cole around and then Cody when he enlisted. You when you were in Saskatoon.
“T-There was never anything I could do with Callan, not without it getting back to Clyde. But god, I tried. In the end, I had to start working because I was going crazy. Hell, I still am. And I’m here. With my babies.”
“What happened?” Cody asks, but his tone’s so cool that I know he’s compartmentalizing.
I’ve barely been around to witness when he does that, but I already hate it. The way his eyes darken and his features lock down. It’s not him. Not my Butch.
“There was another baby... after Cole,” Lindsay confesses. “Clyde wasn’t happy about me getting pregnant again. He usedto think I was having an affair. With your father for the most part, Zee.”
I can’t be the only one who notices the guilt-ridden look between Mrs. Abelman and Lindsay.
“But the baby was his.” She bites out a laugh. “How could it be anyone else’s? I never so much as peeped at another man. I was too terrified to. But he didn’t agree with contraceptives either and saying ‘no’ certainly didn’t matter with him. When I told him, he was furious. One push down the stairs and the baby was no longer a problem.”
Cody’s shoulders straighten. “That time you had your appendix out?—”
“It wasn’t my appendix. I only managed to keep Callan because he had business away that year. He spent half his time in the US. He still believed I was having an affair though. I-I always wondered if he was the reason your father died so prematurely, Zee. I’m so sorry if he had anything to do with it.”
Colt clamps his arm around Zee when she gasps. “What happened with Uncle Clay?”
“He had contacts. He tried to get us out. Together. As a family. But Clyde knew. He always knew. I wasn’t surprised when Clay died after that. Even if he was young.
“I can easily see why Clay would keep Elena a secret, not that I think it was fair of him to bring her into this mess of a family.
“Leaving any of you was never something I wanted to do. I-I only left in the end because I-I…” Her eyes close but tears still trickle freely from them. “After Clay died and Clyde inherited—he was busy. Flying out all the time, overseeing some investments he made. I-I was pregnant and scared. I took a chance. It was risky, and in the end, it never worked out.” She swipes at her cheeks. “Do you remember that time I told you we were going to visit Grandma? In the UK?”
Colt’s eyes narrow, but slowly, like he’s regurgitating a long-buried memory, he murmurs, “Yeah. I remember that. It seemed… strange. Out of the blue. We were all reeling from Clay… But you said it was a good time for us to catch our breaths?”
“The road trip!” Cody blurts out.
“Where… Calgary?” Callan inserts weakly, his face blanching.
Zee and I share a look, dread etched into our expressions.
“Yes. W-We got as far as Calgary. I told you that’s where we were visiting. But we weren’t. We were going to the airport?—”
“The Mounties stopped us! They pulled you over,” Cody spat.
“The Mounties said I’d been drinking.”
Mrs. Abelman snags her hand and holds it tight. “I had to come and collect you boys. He sent me to Calgary while he dealt with your mother—he’d tucked her away in one of his damn hotels.” She barks out a laugh. “I took you to that damn theme park. Filled you so full of sugar to help you forget. It was all you talked about for days after.
“Colt kept on asking where Lindsay was, and I said she was being held back because of multiple traffic violations.” Her gaze is fond as she glances at the woman beside her. “An easy lie seeing as you were always speeding.”
“You were so damn cagey,” he growls before Lindsay can reply.
“Had to be,” is Mrs. Abelman’s flat retort. “None of the answers I had, you’d have wanted to hear. Nor would you have been able to do anything about it.”
“They dragged her out of the car,” Callan rasps, his eyes wide. “I remember that.”
Colt gritted his teeth. “She was sobbing and they said she was being aggressive. They had her in cuffs before we had a chance to process her arrest.”
“How did we forget this?”
“Trauma,” I mumble, hating to hear Cody’s pain. “Seeing your mom be treated that way…”
If they’d buried this as deep as it seemed they had, then small wonder Cody wanted to go into the police force after he retired. Hell, small wonder he’d wanted to do something like defend people from tyranny!
“I’d never heard Callan cry so hard before.” Cody rubs his temple. “I remember that much.”
“What happened, Mum?” Callan whispers.
“Clyde bailed me out. Thanked his chums for saving his boys from me. Telling them that I was a danger to them. That I was an alcoholic.” She stares blankly at the table. “He nearly killed me that time. Beat me so badly that I couldn’t walk for days.
“Before he left me in that hotel room, h-he told me he’d be back when I wasn’t such a mess and that if I tried to leave again, he’d put me in psych hold and would do everything he could to get me locked away permanently.”
“She had one of the cleaners call me. The woman… It was so kind. She risked everything for your mother.” Mrs. Abelman takes over when Lindsay’s shoulders heave. “But we realized that the tide had changed. Clay hadn’t been that much of a deterrent, but… you should have seen her, boys. He beat her black and blue. She’d…” She braces herself. “You don’t need to know the state he left her in, but to say that man is a monster is inadequately describing him.”
“Ida took photos.” Lindsay squeezes Mrs. Abelman’s hand. “I-I sent them to the lawyer I hired back when we got married. He advised me on the prenup I had to sign. I told him that if he didn’t hear from me in the next seventy-two hours, I was dead and to send them to the cops.
“Clyde finally came back and I told him what I’d done. That I’d kill myself and make it seem like he did it if he didn’t let me go.
“I must have looked like a crazy person. More bruises and cuts and scrapes than clear skin.
“I-I found out later that he’d shattered my wrist, broken three ribs, and given me a concussion, but I knew I needed to survive. The baby, well…” She closes her eyes. “I told him that I’d walk away if he granted me a divorce, kept Ida on staff, and didn’t stop me from contacting you boys.”
“Why did he listen?” I whisper, jumping when everyone stares at me. “What? It’s true! He’s a nutcase. That might have tripped his trigger as much as anything else could have.”
“I didn’t know, but the lawyer I originally used… he became a politician. Ida found his details in my Rolodex and sent the pictures to his firm’s address. He still used it as his base of operations.”
“That was incredibly lucky,” Zee chimes in.
“It was. I’d insisted on paying for my own lawyer when the prenup was mentioned. I couldn’t afford much, so I went for this small-time firm with one attorney who worked above this storefront.” Her lips twisted. “He bought the storefront and turned it into his base. It was luck. It’s because of who he became that I survived at all.
“Even knowing Ida was here, it was so hard leaving you, but better that I was a hundred miles away than dead. If you ever needed me, in a pinch, Ida would have made sure I was there. We worked together to keep you as safe as you could be under that monster’s roof.”
“So, when you ask us if Clyde was capable of killing his older brother…” Mrs. Abelman’s gaze turns mutinous. “The answer is yes.”