No, she was afraid of your reaction, you fucked-up bastard.
I get up and head for the shoreline. The incoming waves lap at my boots as I stare out at the horizon.
I’m so fucking furious I can barely breathe. Everyone knew. Everyone I call family knew, and not one of them fucking told me. How long had they known? Why hadn’t they told me? The bastards knew my son was out there in the world and they kept quiet about it. I need to find out why, and I need to do it now.
I pace back to where I left my kit, swipe it up off the ground and sling my jacket on my drenched body. Then I stride back to the car park, mount my bike and slam my helmet on, buzz the ignition, and yank the throttle. She bucks under me, ready for action, and I gun it out of the car park.
A small, but hopeful smile works its way onto my face.
I’m a dad.
GRAVEL SPRAYS LIKE shrapnel as I pull into my driveway. Coming to a stop, I drop my feet to the ground and balance the weight of the machine between my thighs. Out of habit, I tweak the throttle one last time, before dismounting, and then kill the engine.
My helmet is claustrophobic, encasing the turmoil in my mind. Flicking open the visor, I suck in air, but it’s not enough. The urge to rip the fucking thing over my head wins out. I grasp it with both hands and yank it off. Cool air rushes my face, and raindrops splatter on my skin, but they don’t extinguish the mind-fuck going on in my head. After I hook my lid over the handlebar, I raise my face to the sky, letting the rain soak my face, before swiping it away.
If only it would be as easy to wipe away the last fucking few years.
Disbelief that Lizzie never told me I’m a dad wages war with my surprise at being one. I need to see her, talk to my family. It dawns on me they are now one and the same.
My mind’s a mass of confusion. But one person can tell me if she’s still at Layla’s. Needing to speak to Bear, I pull out my mobile from my jacket and walk around the corner. That fucker owes me an explanation. I want to know why I was kept in the dark.
While I’m searching my recent call history, I near the entrance to my home and pair of sopping-wet jean-clad legs come into view. My stomach clenches as my gaze sweeps up the legs and locks on the uncertain gaze of a drenched Lizzie sitting on the step. My insides begin to vibrate, and I can’t tell if it’s anger or fucking desire causing the reaction.
We stare at each other for a few seconds before I tear my gaze away. With a quick glance, I scan the surrounding area. “Where is he?”
“With Layla. Noah, I… I’m sorry.” Her voice trembles with emotion.
No time to contemplate whether or not it’s best for my son not to be here, my head whips back in her direction. “Yeah? So am I. I’m sorry I’ve missed years of his life.” Bitterness drips from every word.
She drops her eyes to the ground as her chest heaves, and I end up feeling like a bastard.
“Can we not do this here? Can I at least come in?” Her soft words hit home more forcefully than if she’d yelled.
My eyes rake over her saturated clothes. It registers she’s been here a while, in the fucking rain, waiting for me. I’ve got no fight left in me. Her proximity weakens all my defences.
“Yeah.” I motion towards the door.
Without my permission, my arm reaches out to help her up. As soon as her hand clasps mine, shockwaves run through my body. One touch. One fucking touch is all it takes to floor me. Angry with myself for being weak, I pull a little too aggressively on her hand. She overbalances on her way up, bringing her body into full contact with mine. Even soaking wet and shivering, her heat warms my soul.
I want to push her away, but the need to have her in my arms is fighting its corner. My thumb rubs lazily on her skin. Letting out a deep breath, I remove my hand from hers, and press on her shoulders to create a space between us. She takes the hint and steps away, gazing up into my eyes. She searches my face, looking for an answer to a question that hasn’t been asked.
My pulse begins to race. That, and the tell-tale twitch in my jeans, let me know I need to put more distance between us. I let go and step around her, before my weakness for her overrules the need to find out what’s been going on. Finding out about my son is far more important than giving in to my cock. I fumble in my pockets, locate my key, and unlock the door.
As soon as the door closes behind her, I know I’m in deep trouble. Her scent fills the hallway, engulfing my senses. Rainy days and sunflowers. My whole body stills, tension radiates through every muscle. I’m on the verge of turning around, pushing her up against the wall, and claiming what should be mine.
“Noah?”
Her voice is fucking husky, no doubt from yelling after me. But it’s doing nothing to ease my desire. My back is still towards her, and I fight the urge to turn around.
“No. Not yet. Just… just give me a minute.” The desperation in my voice is clear. I stalk off and take the stairs two at a time.
Running again?
Slamming my bedroom door behind me, I then I fall back against it. I need to sort my shit out. I pull away and angrily strip off my jacket, followed by all my other clothes, and throw them to the floor. Standing naked, I realise how absurd this situation is. The woman should be in my fucking bed. My son should be sleeping across the hallway. But I’m not that man, I don’t deserve that life.
I go to my dresser, take out some new boxer briefs, and pull them on. The sweats from earlier are next and I rummage around to find a tee to shrug on. I collect a few similar items for Lizzie. She must be fucking freezing. After giving myself a pep talk about inappropriate fucking behaviour, I suck it up and head back downstairs.
Lizzie is still waiting in the hallway, her stormy eyes meet mine and she wraps her arms tighter into the wet clothes.
My steps slow to a stop. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I… Er… I didn’t know what you wanted me to do, so I waited here.”
“Fuck, Lizzie. It’s not like you don’t know your way around.”
Her eyes shift to my chest before returning to my face.
“Yes, but things change.”
I stride towards her but stop myself before getting too close. Holding out my arms, I offer the clothes over to her. “Here, go get changed. You’ll freeze if you don’t get out of those wet things. You know where the bathroom is.”
Her eyes widen slightly and a flush creeps up her cheeks. Has her mind gone where mine has? Memories of fucking in the shower flood my mind. Wet hair in my hand, water droplets glistening on our skin, pinning her against the wall, the pleasured little moans as I thrust deep into her. I take yet another deep fucking breath. “I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.” Turning away from her, I walk off.
I need to get a hold on these debilitating images. Fuck. I just need to get a grip on reality.
I pad barefoot into the kitchen, fill the kettle and put it on. In all honesty I want something fucking stronger but I know I’ll have no self-restraint going down that route. Pulling out two mugs, I busy myself making a coffee for me, and Lizzie a tea.
Tea. I can’t stand that shit… but I still have fucking teabags.
I pause over the thought, then grab the coffee for myself.
Her scent permeates the air again. As I turn to see where she is, my breath catches in my throat and my stomach constricts. She’s leaning in the doorway to my kitchen, with damp hair, wearing my fucking clothes. She’s foregone the joggers and is only wearing the tee. Coming just above her knees, there’s an expanse of leg on view, which my eyes run lazily down. She’s wearing a pair of chunky socks, found from somewhere, pushed down at her ankles. She looks like heaven, and my dick agrees.
“I hope you don’t mind.” She motions to her feet.