Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Marissa
I jammed the blade of my shovel into the sand and rested my elbow on it, totally distracted from my work by the scene in front of me.
My sixteen-year-old son teaching a grown-ass orc how to dig for clams.
“No, bro, you have to use the shovel!”
“Why bother? My hand is bigger than the blade, and my claws are sharper.”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “I dunno, look.” He demonstrated how to stomp on the sand of the sandbar until one of the little depressions spit up a stream of water. “See? When you see that, you know there’s a clam down there. So you shove in your shovel like this, a few inches away, and you dig up a bunch of sand, and hopefully— yes !” he finished triumphantly, swooping down to pull a clam from the pile of sand he’d overturned. “Then you gotta put the sand back.”
Simbel took the clam and was turning it over in his hands, studying it. “Okay, this all makes sense, but we only have two shovels, your mom is using one, and I have good hands.”
I felt myself smiling, even though I wasn’t part of the conversation. He did have good hands.
Patrick, though, had handed his shovel over. “I’m just telling you, this is how you clam. I don’t know anyone who clam with their hands.”
“Do you know many orcs?” Simbel asked with a smirk.
“Do orcs like sand under their claws?” Patrick shot right back. “Look, you gotta use the shovel because it’s fast, it doesn’t make noise. You don’t give ‘em warning, you sneak up on them.”
Simbel raised a brow. “Sneak up on the clams? So they don’t…what? Run away?” he deadpanned.
The thought of clams doing anything quickly had me pressing my lips together to avoid laughing, and I turned away just as Patrick began to snicker.
The two of them continued their conversation behind me, Patrick starting to explain about the band he and his friends were trying to start, but I did my best to focus on my own clamming.
We only had two shovels, but we were only allowed to take thirty clams each today, so I wasn’t too worried.
Besides, the longer I stared at Simbel, the more I blushed .
Last night…
Holy hell, last night.
The things he’d said to me; the whispered praise. I shuddered, even in the warm spring sunshine. The way he’d touched me, stroked me…God, he’d hit spots I’d never experienced before.
Had it felt so good just because it was new ? I’d wanted him for a while, and last night, he’d made me come so easily. I’d been fully dressed, really. Surely it was just because I was so horny.
I shot a glance at him over my shoulder, even as my core began to throb again, remembering the way he’d touched me. I wanted to feel that way again. I wanted him again.
But…would it be the same? It had only worked because I was so primed and ready, right?
Focus. Clams .
I jabbed the shovel into the sand and turned the pile over a bit too enthusiastically. Oooh, two clams at once! I bent to scoop them up and drop them in my bucket, then stomped the sand back in place with my rubber boots.
The sun was lovely today—it had been a good decision to get away from everything for a bit with some of my favorite peeps. It hadn’t taken too long to get out here to Lighthouse Island, which was a popular place in the summer months. It was close enough to see Eastshore Isle on the horizon, but there was no cell reception, and it felt good to unplug .
Behind me, I could hear Simbel telling a story, hear Patrick’s occasional question, and I risked a glance.
The two of them looked so natural together. There was none of my awkwardness as I tried to understand this young man my son was becoming. As I watched, Patrick turned eagerly toward the large male, his eyes already lit with questions, and I felt my heart squeeze.
There was my honeybear, the eager and enthusiastic learner who’d been my best friend for so long. Had that been fair to Patrick? He had such a wide range of friends and activities—I’d made certain of that…but he’d been the focus of my world.
Seeing him interacting with another adult, an adult like Simbel…well, it made me happy. It made me happy to see the way he trusted Simbel, the way he accepted him. I was proud of Patrick, and glad the two of them were getting along so well.
Because after last night, I definitely wanted Simbel to stick around.
No, that’s not true; I’d felt that way since the basketball game. Last night had just sort of sealed the deal.
I turned back to my digging, my cheeks heating again.
Simbel was the first guy I’d been with who hadn’t focused on his own pleasure. What he’d done last night had been about me , and that, more than anything else, had made me feel remarkable.
I’d felt his hard length in his jeans, I’d known he was as aroused as I was, but not once had he touched his own cock. He’d focused on me , even fully clothed. He’d stroked me, he’d whispered praise, he’d touched parts of me I’d never experienced. And I’d come around his fingers, calling his name for the world to hear.
Oh God, that could’ve been a disaster.
Slowly, I straightened, my heart beginning to pound.
Last night, I’d acted like a teenager. I’d let a guy shove his hands down my panties and kiss me underneath the bleachers. What had I been thinking?
You were thinking you wanted a bit of fun .
Well, yeah, but…
Propping my shovel under my arm, I pressed my palms to my cheeks, delayed embarrassment finally setting in. Oh God, what if someone had heard me? What if everyone knew I’d been with Simbel? We were co-workers, and everyone would know .
So what? He basically announced you two were dating. No one is going to blame you for going off together.
No, that wasn’t it. I was a mom , for fuck’s sake. I had to be responsible and mature. I had to set an example for Patrick and his friends! Here I was, angry that those boys were going off and doing stupid stuff, and I was doing stupid stuff. What if we’d been caught?
With a groan, I dropped my chin to my chest.
The last time I’d felt like this…
The last time I’d felt like this, I had been a stupid teenager.
I’d let David touch me, and I’d touched him back. I’d been reckless and foolhardy, and I’d ended up pregnant .
I forced my breathing to slow as I glanced at Patrick. I never regretted having him or raising him, but no matter how much I loved him, I could admit that it had been stupid to create him in the first place, especially with his father being commitment averse.
Can you imagine being married to David all these years ?
The snort slipped out before I could stop it. No, no I couldn’t. David wasn’t a good guy, wasn’t a good partner. It had been a struggle to raise Patrick alone, but I never regretted that decision.
But now…
I winced, watching Simbel throw his head back with laughter, then sling one arm around Patrick’s shoulders. I saw the way my son beamed up at the man who was stealing my heart, and realized that Patrick might be falling for Simbel too.
But was that smart?
We were fine on our own, weren’t we?
I’d done fine all these years, keeping my wilder tendencies locked up. Simbel…released them. Being with him was fun, yeah, but was that smart? Wasn’t it better to keep my head down and focus on Patrick’s future, instead of making out with a co-worker under the bleachers?
The last time that happened, the last time I allowed myself to run wild, I wound up pregnant and alone.
Could my heart take it again?
No .
But …
I scrubbed my hand over my face.
I liked Simbel. Really liked him. I even liked the person I was when I was with him, although I was afraid that person was going to get into trouble again. The smart thing to do would be to break it off with him, but…
I wanted him. I wanted to keep seeing him. I wanted to keep laughing with him. I definitely wanted to keep kissing him. I was addicted to Simbel, and was afraid he was like a rollercoaster ride I wanted to just keep taking and taking, even though I knew it was dangerous.
But watching him and Patrick laughing together, I wondered how dangerous this ride could be.
He could fuck you, dump you, move away, and leave you and your kid broken-hearted .
Oh yeah, there was that.
Would he, though? He was a good guy, not like David. He obviously cared about Patrick, and I think he cared about me too. I definitely cared about him. So was this just my own stupid issues getting in the way?
Of course it was.
I scrubbed my hand over my face again, let out a breath, and gripped my shovel.
Just focus on the here and now. Let the future take care of itself .
Yeah. Except…that attitude got me into trouble in the past. Big trouble.
Stop second-guessing yourself .
Second-guessing? At this point I was fourth-guessing myself .
“Hey, Mom!” Patrick called. “Check out this crazy jellyfish!”
And I exhaled, grateful for the distraction. Grateful that my teenage son cared enough about me to include me in his life, no matter the reason.
Gripping my shovel, I went to see the crazy jellyfish.