Collins
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I look out the window, seeing the trees zoom by as we make our way back to Montgavin, my heart speeding up the closer we get. My head is pressed back on the seat, and Theo’s right arm is stretched over the middle console, hand draped over my leg. My left hand is over his, fingers intertwined.
He turns his hand in mine, palm to palm, and brings it to his lips, kissing the back. “What’s the plan for today?”
“I have to go and check a couple of jobsites, then I’m all yours.”
I turn in the seat. “All mine? Well, that sounds like fun.” I try not to blush.
We spent the better part of yesterday morning and half the afternoon naked, only getting dressed when his parents came over to say goodbye to us, since we were leaving early this morning.
Theo wanted to kick them out after five minutes, but then Carter dropped in, and they stayed for dinner.
The door wasn’t even closed behind them before he had my top off and was carrying me back to bed.
“Why don’t you do what you need to do and then come over? For once, I’ll cook you dinner.”
“Can you cook?” I can hear the lightness in his tone.
“I survived all this time, so I’m guessing I can cook somewhat,” I tease him. “What is your favorite dish?” I wonder if I can make it, or if I even have the things in the fridge to make it. A trip to the grocery store is in my future.
“Hmm”—he pauses, thinking—“you on the table, naked.” My mouth falls open. “Legs spread.” I lift my hand to block his mouth so he will stop talking. He laughs and then kisses my palm.
“Okay, well, I can’t eat that.”
He winks at me. “I have something for you to eat.”
I can’t help but laugh, and the tightness I’ve felt going back to Montgavin is gone. He did it, he helped push it away. “Okay, so I’m going to make what I want to make, and you’ll eat it.”
“Then I get to eat what I want to eat?” he asks, as if eating my pussy is a meal. “I’m okay with all of that.”
“You know that I win in this whole thing, right?”
He smirks. “You would be wrong. Making you come on my tongue is my third-best thing today.”
“Third?” I can’t help but laugh.
“Yeah.”
“What are the first two?”
“Making you laugh and smile is my number one.” I roll my eyes, but at the same time, I want to giggle like I’m still in high school.
“Number two is making you come on my cock.” The grin on his face looks like the cat who just caught the mouse when he was out running amok.
“That is very close to being number one. After you come on my cock and my tongue, you give me a sleepy smile, which is almost like number one.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” I hold up my hand and almost squirm in my seat.
Sex with Theo the first time was mind-blowing.
After having him again the last two days, I can say—without a shadow of a doubt—he’s everything I thought he was.
I mean, he was only the second guy I ever slept with and after our night together, I kept replaying it over and over in my head.
But nothing could have compared to the real thing.
Having him on top of me, touching me, was everything I had remembered but so much more.
“Are you as turned on as I am?” he asks me as we reach my street.
I slide him a playful glance. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say you are more turned on than I am right now.”
He parks in my driveway behind my car. I wait for him to stop the truck and turn it off before I open my door.
“I’ve got your bag,” he tells me, walking to the back door of the truck.
The heat hits me right away as I walk in.
“Why aren’t the fans on?” he asks from behind me.
“Because I wasn’t home.” I turn on the fan in the bedroom while he sets down my bag. “It would be a waste to have them running for no one.” I start for the kitchen to turn on the other fan.
“Wait, there’s something I have to tell you.” I stop in my tracks. “While we were gone, I had some work done to your porch.” I look toward the front door. “Not that porch, the one in the back.”
“What?” I go out through the front door and around to the back.
There’s a brand-new patio, bigger than the one I had.
“What in the world?” I walk up the steps, and none of them feel like they are going to snap under my feet.
A small cast-iron table with a matching chair is in the corner, but leaves enough room to move. “Theo . . .”
“It’s not for you”—his hands are on his hips—“it’s for the baby.
I know how you like to sit outside, and this will give you the chance to do just that.
” He comes up to the porch. “If you had given me your keys, I would have had the door changed so you wouldn’t have to walk around to get here.
We can do that next time.” I’m about to argue with him when he kisses me.
It’s long, it’s wet, and by the time he lets me go, I’ve forgotten what I was going to say.
“I’ll call you later, before I come over, to see if you need anything.
” He kisses me again. “Now walk me to the truck.” He slips his hand in mine and pulls me toward the front, and stops beside his door.
“Try not to miss me.” He wraps his arms around my waist. “I know it’s going to be hard, but I have faith that you can survive it. ”
I throw my head back and laugh, giving him the opportunity to kiss my neck. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it until then.”
This makes him laugh as he kisses me and then gets in his truck.
I wave him goodbye before turning and walking back into the house.
“Your father built you a porch that you won’t be able to enjoy until you are about maybe six months old,” I tell the baby.
“I don’t know what to say about it.” The sound of my phone ringing from my bag has me going to the table to retrieve it.
It’s my landlord/seller, Mickey. “Hello,” I say, putting the phone to my ear.
“Hey, Collins”—his voice is soft, just like his father’s—“how you doing?”
“I’m okay,” I answer, confused. He almost never calls, and he certainly doesn’t check up on me.
“Listen, I think you know why I’m calling.”
The back of my neck tingles. “I actually have no idea why you’re calling.” I look out the window. “Is it because of the new porch? I am so sorry, I would have run that by you first, but I had no idea that it was being done.”
“No, it’s about the check for this month.”
“Okay”—I feel like I’m going to vomit—“what about it?”
“It bounced.” I have to put my hand on the table. “Came back two days ago.”
“That’s . . .” I shake my head. “That’s impossible.” I get a sick feeling in my gut. “Can I call you back? I’m going to check with the bank right now. I know there is money in there. There is always money in that account.”
“I figured something was wrong. Call me back after you get off the phone with the bank.”
I hang up the phone, pull out the chair, and open my bank app on my phone. I blink my eyes twice. My account is showing a twenty-three-cent balance.
“No-no-no-no-no.” I press the account to see the transactions.
Right under the forty-three-dollar fee for the returned house payment check is the check I made out to my father for one hundred dollars.
And under that is another check for one thousand dollars, also made out to my father.
I press the check number to see the image.
My signature is definitely forged. “Oh my god.” I drop the phone and put my hands on my head. “This isn’t happening.”
I pull up the last number I had for my father, and an automated voice message states: The number you have dialed is not in service. I’m not surprised it’s disconnected.
I close my eyes, trying not to have a full-blown panic attack.
“A thousand dollars.” My stomach lurches.
“How the fuck am I going to fucking cover it?” I put my head back.
I know how I’m going to cover it, I just don’t want to go down that road.
It’s going to take me almost five months to get back on my feet from this.
Five months, when the money should be going to what I need for the baby.
“I hate them,” I say. In five months, I’ll be ready to go on maternity leave.
I call Mickey back. He answers after two rings. “Hey, Mickey.” I try not to let him hear I’m on the verge of crying. “I’m so sorry. I forgot about a payment that was going through my account and I—”
“That’s okay, Collins,” he says. “If you want, how about we skip this month and then add it to the end balance?” I look up at the ceiling. “Would that work for you?”
“Umm, yeah. I was going to borrow it from my credit card.”
“That’s silly, we’ll just tack it onto the end balance.”
“Mickey.” I can’t stop the quiver in my voice. “You don’t know how much this helps right now.”
“We’ve all been there,” he offers. “Don’t worry your head over it.” His kindness makes this even worse. “You let me know if you are okay for the next one.”
“I’ll be okay for the next one.” I get up and walk over to the cabinet that has my checks in it, and see that the one they forged is the only one they took. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
“You take care,” he says and disconnects the phone.
“What the fuck?” I swear and then cringe. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
The sob I’d been holding back rips right through me, and my hand goes to my mouth to stop it from escaping.
I’m not sad, I’m angry at myself for letting them make me feel this small.
I’m angry that once again, instead of taking one step forward, I’m two steps back.
I’m angry I spent the weekend with people who just met me and already treat me better than the ones who gave me life.
How could my parents have done this to me again?
I’m done. I’m 1,000 percent done with them. The next time I see them, it’s going to be the last time.
I put my hand to my stomach and vow: “I promise you, I will never let them hurt us again.”