I’m here today for myself. Because I want to look my one and only demon in the eye and let him know I’m not scared of him anymore. I want Tony to look at me and witness the confidence that love has given me and know he didn’t win.
I reach the trailer, which looks almost exactly the same, except for a few potted plants out front. But when I knock on the door, someone I don’t recognize answers. A woman in a shift dress with a baby on her hip.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry, I…used to live here. Is Tony at home?”
“Tony?” She seems to be searching her memory bank. “Is he that fella who disappeared back in the day?”
“Disappeared?” A tingle climbs the back of my neck. “No, I don’t think so…”
“Yeah, he’s the one. Lived here before me. He up and vanished one day and this trailer sat here until the bank repossessed it.” She bounces the baby. “That’s why I got it for so cheap.”
“Right,” I say, dazed. “And when…when did you say he disappeared?”
She looks up at the sky, thinking. “Must have been five years, since I was pregnant with my first.”
I swallow the knot in my throat. “Thank you.”
The woman closes the door and I stand stock still, processing several things at once. One, Tony is gone. Two, he vanished soon after I met Granger. Three, there is no way that is a coincidence.
On unsteady legs, I turn and walk back out of the park, people peeking out at me from their windows. Do they know?
I reach my car and slide into the driver’s seat, locking the doors and staring straight ahead, not wanting to acknowledge the hot shivers creeping up my legs, meeting at my sex and turning it damp. It’s not right for me to feel this way, having just realized the lengths my husband will go to avenge me, keep me safe. But over the last five years, haven’t I learned to live in the gray area where right and wrong are just suggestions? My husband is a savage when it comes to me—and I love the darkest parts of him. They call to something inside of me I didn’t know existed until he barreled into my life and now? I can’t turn it off.
My pulse accelerating, I reach up beneath my skirt, lifting my hips to remove my panties. Setting them beside me on the passenger seat, I put the car in drive, one destination in mind. The same one I always have. Him.
Granger
I’m restless today.
Intuition pricks holes in my gut.
I check my phone for the tenth time in as many minutes, studying the blinking dot that tells me my wife is at home. But there’s something off. She was acting too casual this morning over coffee. I took the mug out of her hands, slammed it down and fucked her on the kitchen table—and she was one hundred percent with me then—biting and scratching and grinding into my thrusts. Still, a few minutes after we came, she started giving me those too-quick answers again when I asked about her plans for the day.
Summertime is hard for me. She’s a teacher, meaning she doesn’t work for three months, and all I can think about while I’m at the garage is how I’d fucking die to be home with her. Holding each other in the bathtub, making meals in the kitchen and spending hours wringing myself out in her tight pussy.
Out of the sheer sexual frustration that never leaves me, I slam my fist down onto my desk, upsetting a cup of pens. I swear to God, every day I sink a little more into this Peyton-induced mania. If we didn’t have bills to pay or basic errands to run, I don’t think I’d stop touching her for a single second. Not while she showers, not while she sleeps. Her skin, her voice, her existence are my addiction. I’m a junkie and my goal every single day is to overdose or I’m not alive.
I stalk to the glass window overlooking the garage, gratified to see it full of cars, more in the lot awaiting repairs. Over the last five years, with Peyton’s encouragement, I’ve expanded into the property next door and doubled our clientele. I never could have done it without her. Never would have believed myself capable of being a businessman without my wife.
That—and a million other reasons—is why I’m surprising her with a house tonight. A secluded cabin-style home beside a river. Lots of space.
Most importantly, privacy.
I can already see her wading naked into the river in the summertime, smiling back at me over her shoulder, her tight little ass bruised from my fingertips.
Fuck this.
I’m going home to her. My cock is already stiff thinking about walking in and taking her wherever she stands. I need her. I can’t think straight without her.