Chapter 15 Lena
LENA
Pick-up time at preschool is the one part of my day that never fails to fix something in me.
Jace spots me from across the room and barrels forward with his backpack half open and a shoe somehow untied again.
He collides with my legs and talks at full speed about a paper crown he made, a cracker he dropped, and a kid named Mason who insists carrots are evil.
"Carrots are fine," I say, brushing hair out of his face.
"No, Mama, Mason said they scream."
"Then Mason needs less TV."
He giggles and swings our joined hands all the way to the car. The drive home is loud, happy chaos. He asks what's for dinner, asks why clouds move, asks if dinosaurs ever tried pizza. By the time we reach the house, the stress buzzing under my ribs has softened, even if it hasn't gone away.
Inside, he dumps his shoes in the middle of the hallway like it is his legal right. I nudge them aside before I trip and die. He climbs onto the couch and demands a story, then pretends to read it to me even though he cannot read yet and has no shame about inventing every line.
"This dragon says you have to sit next to me forever," he declares.
"Sounds intense."
"Forever," he repeats.
I sit. He leans on me. We breathe the same warm, quiet air for a moment, and I feel my heart settle in my chest the way it does only when he is close.
Night rolls in without warning. I heat leftovers. He eats half of them and feeds the rest to his stuffed dinosaur. Then he insists on building a fort out of pillows. I let him win this fight, even though the living room now looks like a tornado auditioned for a movie role.
Once he is in the bath, I sit on the floor and rest my forehead on my knees for twenty seconds, the longest break I get. His bubble beard is what brings me back.
"Look, Mama," he says. "I'm old." He rubs the bubbles like a mustache.
"You look very wise," I say.
"I know."
We finish bath time, pajama time, and two rounds of "one last story." He finally knocks out with his hand holding mine and his dinosaur wedged between us like a referee.
When he is fully asleep, I ease my fingers free and tuck the blanket around him.
The house is quiet again. But not scary quiet. Just… me and my thoughts.
Gabe isn't coming tonight. He texted earlier saying he had work to take care of and would not be near his phone for a while.
I read that message three times even though it was nothing dramatic.
He does private security work now, a mix of consulting, planning routes, assessing risk for small companies that cannot afford full teams, and doing virtual surveillance checks for bigger clients.
Half of it can be done from anywhere with a laptop and the right set of encrypted tools.
He keeps it vague, but I know enough about his old life to understand why he is careful.
He probably has maps open on his screen right now, lines and coordinates, places he will never tell me about but can navigate in the dark. He always works like a man who expects something to go wrong and has ten plans for when it does.
A strange thought slips in. He could do all of this from here. From this town. From somewhere near us.
The thought scares me. It also warms something deep inside me, and I hate that it does both.
I rinse a cup in the sink. I check locks. I pick up the tiny sock Jace abandoned on the stairs. Everything feels normal and familiar and safe… except my chest, which feels full in a way I do not want to look at too closely.
I sit on the couch and pull my knees up under me.
My phone sits on the coffee table, screen dark, and I stare at it for a moment before caving. Gabe said he'd be off the grid, but maybe… just maybe. I grab it, open our chat, and hesitate. Then my fingers move anyway, tapping out a quick message.
Me: Hey, I know you're busy, but I'm sitting here thinking about you. Miss having you around tonight.
I hit send before I can overthink it, my heart thumping a little faster. The house is so damn still, and I'm half-expecting nothing back, just the void of my own thoughts. But then, a minute later, my phone vibrates, and his name lights up the screen. My stomach flips.
Gabe: Damn, Lena, you caught me at a good time. Just finished a call. I'm missing you too.
Before I can overthink it, I type the next message and cover my face with my hands after hitting send.
Me: I'm all hot and bothered for you.
Sexting wasn't on the bingo card for tonight, but after the day I've just had, damn, it feels good. With anyone else, I'd get a million things done around the house while sending messages to buff up their ego. But this isn't anyone else.
A moment later, his reply comes.
Gabe: What you wearin' right now?
I bite my lip, a grin creeping over my face. The way he cuts straight to it, no bullshit, always gets me. I glance down at my old tank top and soft shorts—hardly sexy, but screw it, I can play this up.
Me: Just a little tank and shorts. Barely anything. Feels like too much without you here to take it off.
I send it, a warm flush already creeping up my neck. I shift on the couch, tucking my legs under me tighter, waiting. His reply comes fast.
Gabe: Fuck, woman, you tryin' to kill me? Bet you look so damn good, all soft and ready. Wish I was there to peel that tank off with my teeth.
My breath catches. I can hear his voice in my head, low and rough, the way it gets when he's worked up. My fingers hover over the screen, and I type back quick, a little bolder now.
Me: I'd let you. I'm so wound up, Gabe. Been thinking about your hands all day. Where would you touch me first?
I'm squirming already, the ache between my thighs growing just from typing the words. His response pops up, and I swear I can feel the heat through the screen.
Gabe: First thing, I'd grab those hips, pull you right against me. Then I'd slide my hands up under that tank, feel every inch of you. Bet your skin's hot right now, huh? Tell me, baby, you touchin' yourself thinkin' ‘bout me?
My cheeks burn, but I'm too far gone to stop. I glance around the quiet living room like someone's gonna catch me, then slip my hand under the waistband of my shorts, just resting there for now. My reply is shaky as I type with one hand.
Me: Yeah, I am. Just a little. Can't help it when you talk like that. What else would you do? I need to hear it.
I'm practically holding my breath now, my fingers brushing lightly over myself, teasing. His next text hits like a punch, making my toes curl just like I knew it would.
Gabe: Shit, that's my girl. I'd pin you down on that couch, rip those shorts off, and get my mouth on you. Lick you slow ‘til you're beggin' for more. Then I'd flip you over, ass up, and fuck you so deep you'd feel me for days. You wet for me right now, baby? Tell Daddy how bad you need it.
My whole body clenches at his words, that rough edge to his tone coming through even in text. I'm soaking now, no question, and my fingers move faster as I type back, clumsy and desperate.
Me: So wet, Gabe. Dripping just thinking about you. I need it bad. Need you filling me up, talking dirty like that. What would you say while you're fucking me?
I hit send, my heart racing, and I'm already picturing him behind me, all that raw strength pinning me down. His reply comes quick, and it's pure fire.
Gabe: I'd be growlin' in your ear, tellin' you how tight you are, how good this pussy feels grippin' me.
I'd say, ‘Take it all, baby girl, every fuckin' inch.
You're mine, you hear me? This body, this sweet little cunt—all mine.
' I'd smack that ass ‘til it's red, make you scream my name.
You like that, huh? Bet you're fingering yourself hard right now.
I moan out loud, soft but real, thankful the house is empty except for Jace sleeping upstairs. My fingers are slick, moving in tight circles over my clit, and I'm so close just from his words. I manage to type back, my hands trembling.
Me: Fuck, yes, I love it. I'm so close already. Keep going, tell me how you'd finish me off.
I'm panting now, legs shaking a little as I wait. His next message sends a shiver straight down my spine.
Gabe: Damn right, you're close. I'd fuck you harder, baby, slam into you ‘til you can't take it.
I'd grab your hair, pull your head back, and growl, ‘Come for me, right fuckin' now.
Let Daddy feel you break.' Then I'd fill you up, hot and deep, mark you as mine.
Come on, darlin', let go for me. I wanna know you're comin' right now.
I can't hold back anymore. My fingers work faster, and I'm biting my lip to keep quiet as the orgasm hits, sharp and overwhelming. My whole body tenses, then melts as I ride it out, gasping softly. It takes me a minute to catch my breath before I can even type again.
Me: Holy shit, Gabe. I just came so hard. I'm a mess over here. Wish you were here to see it.
His reply comes almost instantly, and I can just picture the smirk on his face.
Gabe: Fuck, that's hot. Bet you look so damn pretty all fucked out like that. Wish I was there to clean you up with my tongue, then fuck you again ‘til you can't walk. Keep that pussy ready for me, baby girl. I'm comin' for you soon.
I'm still tingling, a lazy smile on my face as I read his words over again. My body's buzzing, satisfied for now, but his promise lingers, making me ache for the real thing.
Me: I'll be waiting. You've got me all worked up now. Can't wait to feel you for real.
Gabe: Damn straight. I'm gonna wreck you when I see you. Keep thinkin' ‘bout me ‘til then. Gotta get back to work, but I'm hard as fuck now thanks to you. Talk soon, baby.
With a little giggle, I set the phone down and glance at the clock. It's just a little past eight p.m. and I'm hungry. My whole body feels warm and restless, and I blame Gabe for every bit of it. I try to sit still for at least fifteen seconds, then give up and reach for my phone.
"Fine," I mutter. "Pizza fixes everything."
I order the fattest, cheesiest pie the place offers, plus garlic knots because self-control is not happening tonight.
When it arrives, I sit at the kitchen counter with the box open like it is a gift from heaven.
The first slice is thick and hot, cheese stretching in long strings when I pull it up.
The crust is crisp on the bottom and soft in the middle.
The sauce hits with that perfect tang. I take one bite and close my eyes because yes, this is the only man I can trust right now. Melted cheese never lets me down.
I grab a second bite. Then a third. Grease is on my fingers, but I don't care because it's the best thing that has happened to me all day.
Mid-chew, halfway into my comfort slice, someone knocks on the door and I freeze in place.
Please be the delivery guy who forgot something. Please be anyone but…
Taking a napkin, I quickly wipe my hands and walk to the door to open it.
Immediately, my stomach drops straight through the floor.
It's my dad. He stands on the porch with that stiff posture he saves for when he thinks I have done something wrong.
His mouth is already lined in disappointment. "Lena," he says. "We need to talk."
And just like that, my appetite dies on the spot.