Oh.Oh…
Chapter 22
Thad
Iam out of sorts the rest of the night, full of pent-up energy that has me pacing and moving stuff that doesn’t need to be moved and basically climbing the walls of my apartment.
It’s Helen. That damn freckle on her thigh and the feeling of her in my lap, her breasts heaving just inches from my face. Close enough to just lean forward and open my mouth and?—
No. I’m not going there. Have I thought of the hot librarian when I took myself to O-Town? Sure. But that was before I knew she was a nun, when I thought she was playing some kind of game with me. Which I’m pretty sure she’s not doing now. Not positive, but pretty sure. I think she honestly doesn’t know what she’s doing when she looks at me with those big blue eyes and bites that big full lip…and it would be wrong to think of her that way. Wouldn’t it? Especially since we’re going to be stuck in the car together for what sounds like a long time—I’m only guessing since she won’t tell me where we’re going, but I’ve packed a week’s worth of underwear, just in case.
I wonder what underwear she’s packing…?
Nope. I hastily change into my running clothes, knowing I need to get out some energy and fast. Get my blood pumping somewhere other than where it’s all heading now.
Just as I’m about to head out the door, my phone buzzes. Like some lovestruck idiot, my heart speeds up as I wonder if it’s Helen. Just telling me something about the trip or something. There’d be no other reason for her to text me.
But it’s not Helen, I know right away, my stomach roiling as I see the unknown number and the attached pictures. I’ve blocked her in the past but she just keeps finding new ways to reach me.
Vera.
I should just delete the texts, sight unseen. I genuinely don’t want to see or hear from her again. My heart is pounding, and not out of excitement, but dread. I feel cold and clammy all over, like I’m about to open a text message with a picture of a severed head.
But curiosity and all that. And I guess a masochistic part of me wants the reminder that this is what I’ve been protecting myself from. This iswhyI have to keep up my guard.
I read the messages first. Some must have come through earlier while I was driving, because there are quite a few stacked up and waiting.
Hello Handsome
Did you block my other number? That wasn’t very nice. Just want to know how you are
I miss you
We hoped you’d come back for Christmas this year. You won’t believe how big the kids have gotten now.
I think the baby weight’s finally off. What do you think?
Then come the pictures. Dear old step-mommy, posing in lingerie. I delete the whole text chain and block the number, hoping this will be the last time, but knowing it won’t be.
The whole thing is such a head fuck, honestly. The way she swings back and forth between acting like she’s trying to pull the family together again but at the same time letting me know she’s open for business. I wonder if Dad knows, then decide that’s not my problem.
Dad’s always had a weakness for women. Women like him, and he likes them—all shapes and sizes and ages and colors of the rainbow. It’s why almost all of his kids have a different mom. It’s why it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me that he’d been screwing my fiancée behind my back. So far as I know, he’s already moved on to someone else, which is why Vera is crawling back to me.
Or maybe she just likes thinking she holds this power over me.
Well, I’m never falling for that again. Not from her, not from anyone else.
Now I need the run for a very different reason. As I move through the streets of downtown, I focus my brain. Right now all I care about is finding Dean. Everything else is a distraction.
Everyone else is a distraction.
And I can’t afford to lose focus.
Chapter 23
Helen
Have you ever noticed how beautiful the city is first thing in the morning? In the dim, early morning light, the window still half-frosted over, it feels like I’m looking into a snow globe. I sit and sip my coffee, waiting for Thad to arrive. As I catch a glimpse of my own reflection in the window, I grin at myself stupidly, the two of us caught in a guilty, complicit secret.
