9. Melanie
melanie
I’m scrambling eggs in the skillet when two tanned arms wrap around my waist, one covered in dark, swirling ink.
A hot chest presses up against my back right as Cale’s head nudges against mine.
I tilt to the side, giving him room, and he buries his face in my neck, his scruff tickling and making me laugh.
“What’re you doing?” I murmur as he trails soft kisses along the column of my throat, one hand sliding under my pajama top, caressing the softness of my stomach.
“Morning, baby,” he rumbles, voice still thick with sleep.
I try to ignore the flutter in my chest at the endearment, focusing on the food in front of me.
“Why’re you up so early?” His hand slides up my ribs, cupping my breast and gently testing the weight.
A hungry groan vibrates against my back as his fingers find my nipple, teasing it into a tight peak.
Liquid heat pools between my legs, my breath catching in my throat. “You’re not supposed to distract someone cooking,” I protest half-heartedly, my head falling back against his shoulder just as I feel his teeth on my throat. “Cale.”
“Love the way you say my name, darlin’.” Cale smiles right before he gives my skin a sharp nip.
I flinch away with a yelp, and he chuckles.
His other hand plays with the waistband of my sleep shorts.
“Come back to bed with me.” He delves inside, sucking in a breath when he discovers I’m not wearing anything underneath.
His fingers dip between my slippery folds to find my clit, rubbing it at the same time that he gives my nipple a firm tug.
A whimper escapes me, and I turn my head to the side, seeking his mouth with mine.
He gives me what I want, our tongues tangling. His hand drifts lower, his palm grinding against me as he thrusts two fingers deep inside.
“You’re soaked,” he mutters against my mouth. “Is that all for me?”
I huff out a sound of amusement. He swallows the sound down, tongue flicking against my lips. “Does it count as ‘all for you’ when I’m probably still wet from earlier?”
He hums thoughtfully. “Yeah. It does.”
Deeper in the house, a door slams open. I jerk out of Cale’s arms with a horrified gasp. “Oh my god. He can’t see you here. You need to go!”
He blinks. “Are you kidding?”
“Cale,” I hiss impatiently. “You’re in your underwear. I’m in my PJs. He’s eight, not stupid. He can’t know that anything is going on.”
Another door slams—the bathroom, I think—but he isn’t moving, his expression obstinate. “This has been going on for weeks now, Melanie. I don’t think it’s going to hurt the kid—”
I narrow my eyes as I cut him off, “And how would you know that? He’s been through enough, and he thinks you basically hung the moon. When this ends”—I flap a hand between us—“it’ll hurt him more if he knows. I won’t let that happen, Cale.”
His dark eyes flash, his mouth thinning, but then he jerks his head down in a curt nod. “You’re his mom,” he says reluctantly. “You know best. I’ll come get my stuff in a little bit, yeah?”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer, turning on his heel and slipping out the back door.
I watch from the kitchen window as he swaggers over to the fence between our yards, uncaring of his state of undress.
He pulls himself up and over the fence, his back flexing with each movement, and I don’t look away until he disappears from view.
I press my palms to the counter, sucking in a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.
What the hell am I doing?
I promised myself that I wouldn’t keep doing this with him, but it’s been almost a month since our house was broken into.
I’m fresh out of excuses for why I haven’t put some distance between us.
It could be the years of mediocre sex with Davis—the kind that’s not bad, but not mind-blowing either—but there’s something about the way Cale worships my body.
It’s like he’s on a mission to learn me, study me, until he knows my body better than I do.
No one has ever made me feel the way he does.
And it’s not just sex.
The lines have started to blur the more he comes over.
He’s taken to eating dinner with us most nights, watching television, or playing games with my son until he goes to bed.
As soon as Oakley’s asleep, Cale manhandles me into the bedroom, stripping my clothes off before I’ve even had time to process what’s happening.
The first few times, he would press a quick kiss to my lips after we were done before sneaking out…
but last night wasn’t the first time he lingered.
We talked.
We cuddled.
We woke up several times through the night and fucked again.
Small feet thud into the kitchen, pulling me from my thoughts. I turn around as Oakley appears, pillow creases still pressed into his rounded cheek.
“Morning, Mom,” he says quietly, coming over and leaning limply against my side.
“Hi, bug. Sleep okay?”
He grunts an affirmative, his head rolling to the side, so his cheek is pressed against my ribs. “I heard voices.”
I roll my lips between my teeth, guilt surging, hot and sharp. “Voices? What do you mean?”
He scrubs his eyes with his fist, muttering, “I thought I heard you talking to someone.” I nudge him gently away so I can plate up our breakfast, and he goes to sit at the kitchen table, propping his chin up on his fist.
“Maybe I was talking to myself,” I suggest playfully, setting his plate and cutlery in front of him. I sit down across from him, cutting into my own buttery toast and piling eggs on top of it. “Maybe your mom’s going nuts.”
He eyes me, unimpressed, even as he shovels a massive bite of eggs into his mouth. I stare back at him, my eyebrows lifted, but the kid doesn't blink.
“You excited for baseball today?”
Oakley straightens at that, his eyes widening like he’d forgotten. “It’s Saturday? It’s Saturday! Yeeeeeees!” He scrambles out of his chair, breakfast half-eaten, and dashes out of the room.
“Oakley Daniels!” I yell after him. “Come back and finish your breakfast!”
“Can’t! Too busy!” A door slams, followed by feet thundering back toward me. He sticks his head around the open doorway, asking, “Where’d you put my uniform?”
I’m chewing on a mouthful, so I point at my cheeks, indicating I can’t talk. His expression darkens with impatience, so I chew more slowly. Just when he looks like he might explode, I swallow. “Wrong question, bug.”
Oakley’s eyes flare as he throws his hands up in the air. “If I knew where it was, I wouldn’t be asking!”
I pointedly take another bite of my breakfast, and he growls at me before turning and stomping away.
The rest of the morning feels just as chaotic. By the time he’s got everything he needs, and I’ve packed enough snacks to feed an army, I’m starting to feel the effects of my late night with Cale and desperately need caffeine.
“Alright, bug. If we go now, I’ll have time to pick up a coffee from Frothy Cakes.”
“If we’re going there, can you get me a slice? I won’t eat it until after the game,” he vows. “But I’ve been dreaming about lemon bars since the bake sale.”
I tap my chin, pretending to think about it, and he groans dramatically. “Fine, fine. You can have a sweet treat. Let’s go.” I hustle him to the door just as there’s a rough knock, making me pause before I remember Cale saying he’d come back to grab his stuff.
I ignore the way my heart kicks into higher gear, swinging the door open, only to freeze in place, the welcoming smile dropping into a scowl.
Davis stands on my doorstep, an expectant look on his face, and any excitement I felt crumbles faster than a rockslide down a mountain.
I haven’t seen him since the bake sale, even though he was supposed to take Oakley for at least two weekends since then, and just the sight of his stupid face has my blood pressure skyrocketing.
“What do you want?” I demand.
“Mellie—”
Oakley shoves past me, a wide grin splitting his face. “Dad, what’re you doing here?” His smile grows impossibly wider. “Is it because of my game?”
Davis’s eyes dart down to Oakley and then back up to me, his confusion clear. I glare at him, daring him to hurt this sweet kid, and he swallows roughly. “Of course, kiddo. I heard about it from Clarissa.”
I don’t know how I ever married someone so goddamn dumb, but it’s probably one of the worst things he could’ve said. Oakley deflates in front of my eyes. He turns away, his eyes shining wet before he ducks around me, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.
Davis watches him go, nonplussed. “What did I say?”
I stare at him. “You’re unbelievable, Davis. What the hell do you want?”
He lets out a long sigh, and I look at him properly for the first time, noticing that he’s not looking his best. His clothes hang on him like he’s recently lost weight.
His hair is limp and jaw rough with days’ worth of stubble, and the skin sags under his eyes. “Look, Mellie. This isn’t an easy ask…”
I stare at him when he trails off, looking uncomfortable. “Can you spit it out, Davis?” I say stiffly. “We have somewhere to be.”
He squints. “I need you to sell the house. I need my half.”
I blink in bemusement, waiting for him to say “Gotcha!” but it never comes. “Are you kidding? Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Mellie, I need the money, okay? I know that you can’t buy me out any more than you could when we got divorced. We agreed that if it came down to it, we’d sell the place and split the money.” He pauses, a sly look in his eyes. “Clearly, it’s not safe for you or Oakley, anyway.”
I white-knuckle the edge of the door to stop myself from planting a fist in his face, knowing that he’ll use anything I do as ammunition to fuck with me. “You need to leave. Right now.”
His expression turns ugly, his eyes squinty and mean. “I’m serious. I need the money, and it’s not right that you get to live in the house that was ours, pretending like everything’s fine.”
“Pretending like it’s fine?” I gape at him.
I look around, checking Oakley’s still out of earshot, and then pin him with the nastiest glare I can.
“You left, you asshole. You fucked around on our marriage, rubbing your affair under my nose, and then you left. And you didn’t just leave me, but you left Oakley.
You didn’t even check on him after the break-in to see if he was okay.
And then you rock up here, acting like you can make demands of me?
Acting like it’s normal to tell me that I need to sell our child’s home?
The only one he’s ever known?” I lean forward, seething. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”
He steps into the threshold of the doorway, straightening up and getting right into my personal space, clearly trying to intimidate me.
“You don’t want to mess with me, Melanie.
I can make life really difficult for you in this town.
” He scoffs. “You’ve always thought you were better than me, so high and fucking mighty.
How is it my fault that I finally realized how wrong you were and found better for myself? Marcy is the woman I deserve.”
“Damn right she is,” a rough voice says, just before a heavy hand lands on my shoulder, stepping up close enough that a shiver rolls down my spine at the heat searing into my back. His fingers dig into my shoulder briefly—just enough to tell me that he felt it too. “The lady told you to leave.”
Davis’s eyes bounce down to those hands, then to Cale, before coming back to me with a sneer. “A judge wouldn’t look kindly on you whoring yourself out to the fuckboy neighbor, Mellie. Don’t make this nasty, because you won’t win.”
My spine goes ramrod straight. “Are you seriously threatening to sue me for custody? You’re living with the woman you cheated on me with.
” I flick up a finger. “You haven’t seen Oakley in a month”—and another—“and I don’t even remember the last time you took him for your weekend.
” And the final finger goes up. “And you’re threatening me? ”
He steps back, shaking his head. “I thought we could do this like reasonable adults.” He shoots a dark look at Cale.
“But I can see that your standards have fallen.” I bark out a rough laugh at that, and his glare turns vicious.
“I’ll come back when you’ve had a chance to calm down and think rationally, Mellie. ”
“Don’t bother, asshole,” Cale grunts out. And then he’s yanking me backward and slamming the door shut.