10. Rebecca

10

REBECCA

I felt kind of bad for what I said to Cole. He'd merely been expressing himself, and I shut him down. I meant every word, though. I was only twenty-three. I had all kinds of time before I decided to settle down and have a real, adult relationship.

Driving home on Sunday morning gave me a chance to remember every second I'd spent with Cole. He was a wonderful man, and he made me come so hard I didn't think it would ever end. That didn't mean I owed him anything.

"We can't even have a relationship." I talked to Fitz, the only one I trusted with this conversation except Lily, and she had decided to stay and work instead of taking the daylong adventure with me to watch my brother's state championship game. I'd put off leaving until the last minute, hoping she'd change her mind.

Fitz sneezed at me before dropping his head back down on top of his paws.

"Yeah. That's what I think too." We pulled into my parents' drive, and I sat there for a minute admiring my stepmom's flower bed. She'd outdone herself this year, turning the front of the house into an explosion of color. I couldn't begin to name any of the plants.

The woman herself popped up from the middle of a patch of bright purple blooms. A wide sun hat shaded her face and giant sunglasses covered her eyes. She jumped and waved. "Harold, Rebecca's home." Pulling off her gardening gloves, she hurried over to the car, her bright smile in place. "You made it. Your brother was starting to worry."

Which meant they'd all thought I would flake on the game and not show up. "I was trying to talk Lily into coming with me."

"Oh." Carrie's shoulders rounded a bit as she peered into the car. "No luck, huh?"

"Not this time." Dad and Carrie loved Lily. She'd visited my house every weekend all through school. "She said she'd make it for Christmas."

"Well, that's something." Carrie bumped my car door and held it open with her hip. Like me, she carried a little extra weight on her hips. Unlike me, Carrie never thought twice about it. I'd hate to think what my self-esteem would be like without her support during my formative years. I still thought about losing weight, but it bothered me less and less these days.

Dad stood on the top step, shielding his eyes from the sun. "Got anything you need me to carry?"

"I'm good, Dad." I stood and hugged Carrie, then retrieved Fitz.

Dad met me on the sidewalk and pulled me into a tight hug. "Missed you, kiddo."

His familiar cologne pushed aside all the heavy thoughts I'd carried home with me. I had a whole day to focus on nothing but this, and I planned on enjoying every second. Including annoying the shit out of my little brother.

"Where's Harry?" My high school senior brother had been a pain in my side for years. Now that I'd gotten out of the house and he'd matured enough to stop putting gum in my hair, we got along. Still. Annoying each other was like a right of passage for siblings.

Carrie dabbed at her face with the back of her hand. "He's at school. They're doing a pep rally with the cheerleaders. We'll meet him there in a few hours." She pulled me into a side hug and walked us up the stairs. "Tell me about college. How are things going? Do you like your professors?"

Like was an understatement. Thankfully, the summer sun hid my blush. "It's great. I'm learning a lot and my writing is getting stronger." My creative writing professor was a young, hip woman in her thirties who challenged us to turn tropes on their heads and write stories that the mainstream publishers would run away screaming from. All for the sake of learning to use our ‘author voice'. I loved her classes. I told Dad and Carrie all of this while hedging around talking about the three male professors I had the hots for. Even after telling Cole I wasn't ready for a relationship and rushing out of his house before there could be any chance of a round two, I still wanted him.

I'd been afraid if I stayed, he would try to pull some kind of promise from me. Part of me knew he would never, but I wasn't willing to risk it. Cole and David were both patient, kind lovers. It kind of made me wonder about Ethan. He had that dangerous edge to him, a feeling he evoked every time he walked past me. It was almost like I stood on a precipice, ready to hurl myself into the unknown. It was terrifying. And exciting. Did that part of him carry over into the bedroom? Would he be patient or demanding?

After talking to Lily, I'd started writing a new story with Ethan, Cole, and David as the inspiration behind my male characters. The Ethan in my story had a domineering streak, and in the last chapter I wrote, he'd tied the woman to the bed and tortured her with sex. Consensual, of course. The scene was so erotic and vivid in my mind that I'd had to use my dildo afterward to take the edge off my sexual frustration. Would Ethan like to know that he'd sparked that kind of sexual appetite? Probably.

Carrie leaned forward. "And your professors are all nice? You're really enjoying classes?"

"Yeah. It's great." I chuckled. "I think I'm getting on a few of their nerves. I keep asking questions. I think the only one I haven't pissed off yet is Professor David Stanley." And that was just because I'd been so busy daydreaming through the couple of classes I'd had with him so far that I didn't hear a word he said and had to go back and listen to his lectures every night. His voice threatened to put me to sleep. Even in a recording, he had that velvety voice meant for late-night pillow talks.

Carrie made a face somewhere between a frown and a grimace. She stood and tucked her hat under her arm. "Well, we'd better get going. Harry asked us to get there early. Are you riding with us?"

"Sure." Might as well. Fitz had curled up in my lap and gone to sleep. I carried him into the house and put him in my old bedroom. It still looked the same, the same bookcase overflowing with romance novels, many of them spicy but with discreet covers so Carrie wouldn't know. I should box them up and take them with me. For research. It never hurt to reread books that gave me all the feels. I could break them down, dissect them, and see what made them great.

Fitz snuffled into the covers but didn't wake. I crept back down the hall, meeting Dad and Carrie in the foyer. The two-story brownstone had been in the family since Dad's grandfather had it built way back when. I loved every nook and cranny in the place, but it felt weird being here now. I hadn't outgrown my family home, had I?

We piled into the car, and Carrie flipped down the sound to a low background noise. "I'm so glad you came home for the day. I know it's a long drive, but your brother will be so excited you made it."

"I wouldn't miss his game." The words came out sharper than I intended. I sat back but didn't cross my arms, even though I wanted to. I wasn't a petulant child being talked down to because I left home. Carrie meant well. I must have a chip on my shoulder about something. But what? Dad pulled the SUV into the high school parking lot and it hit me. It was being here again, back at the school I'd hated, that had my defenses on high alert.

Hell if I'd let this place ruin my day. I hopped from the vehicle and walked beside Carrie with my head held high. She grinned and took my arm, linking our elbows together. "You look good. I'm so proud of you. Your father is too, even if he doesn't say it. Look at how he smiles at you. You're going to do amazing things, Rebecca."

That was why I loved my stepmother. She'd come into my life years ago, turned Dad's life upside down, then settled in like she'd always been there.

"Thanks." I hesitated, then dove in. Might as well. "Why did you make a face earlier when I mentioned Professor Stanley?" Sunlight beat down on us, the sudden tension in Carrie's arm a shock to my senses.

She looked around, her gaze roaming the area. Dad walked ahead of us, chatting it up with the dad of one of Harry's friends. "It's nothing serious."

"Then why do you look like I threw mud in your face?" I tried to smile to ease the tight lines fanning out from her eyes.

Carrie huffed but her grip on my arm loosened. "I used to know a David Stanley."

"Know him how?" Surely, she didn't mean what I thought. My heart thudded, cold sweat beading my forehead. "Like the two of you were friends?"

"Something like that." She stopped once we moved into the building and walked me over to a corner. People milled around, the constant noise a cover for Carrie's quiet exhale.

Dad stopped at the gymnasium doors and looked back for us. When he spotted me and Carrie, his eyebrows lifted in a silent question.

Carrie waved for him to go on, making a vague motion at the concession stand nearby. The line for food stretched a dozen people long, but I still might be tempted to wait for some nachos. It all depended on what Carrie said once Dad went on his way.

"You're freaking me out. Was he a psycho or something?" I definitely needed to know that.

Carrie laughed a little, but the sound and her smile didn't reach her eyes. "The David Stanley I knew had trouble committing to a relationship. He was aloof and closed off. By the time I finally broke through to the man underneath, I was exhausted from carrying the relationship by myself."

That did not sound at all like the David Stanley I knew. Or maybe it did and I'd simply created my own version in my head to fit the man I saw. His patience and caring in the bedroom spoke of a loving man, a man who cared deeply.

Wait. My throat closed. "Did you two sleep together?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Yes. Not that I should be telling you this. Especially if it's the same David and he's your professor now."

"It's okay. I wanted to know." Because that was an image I'd never get out of my head now that I knew. David and my stepmom once had a sexual relationship. Ew. "So, did he end things?"

She shook her head, blonde curls bouncing around her face. "No. I did. Once I realized that he'd never be able to give me the emotional support I needed, I left him." This time, her smile turned loving. "Good thing I did, because it wasn't long after that I met your dad. Well, I actually met your dad while David and I were still dating. We talked, and after a while, I realized that I didn't love David. I loved Harold."

She'd left David for my dad? This kept getting better and better. Or worse, depending on which way my mind turned. It changed from second to second. Maybe it wasn't the same David. How did I find out? Should I ask David if he remembered Carrie? No. That would be weird. It didn't matter, anyway. I ground my teeth and forced out a smile that I knew Carrie would take as genuine. "Is it bad if I say I'm glad it didn't work out between you two? You and Dad are perfect for each other."

"Oh, honey. That's so sweet." She hugged me, her floral perfume almost as comforting as Dad's cologne. "I'm glad I met your dad. And who knows? David might have changed by now. It's been years, after all. I hope he's found someone to love, someone who has the strength to break down his barriers and see the good man underneath."

What was I supposed to do with this information? How many David Stanleys could there be in the world, especially in the same state? Ugh. I couldn't get it out of my head.

My stepmom and I slept with the same man. At least she wasn't my mother by blood. That would have been worse. Way worse. Still. Nausea churned. No way I'd be having nachos today. "Come on, we'd better find your father and get a seat. The game will start soon." Carrie crowd surfed with the best of them. She had no problems carving a path through the people loitering in the lobby and marching through the yellow doors into the gymnasium. Shoes squeaked, and the smell of locker room sweat curled my nose. How was it that every gym smelled the same no matter where they were located or how often they were cleaned?

"If you're worried that David will punish you for my leaving him, you shouldn't be. He was a genuinely sweet man when I knew him. He had the cutest little dimple too. Right here on his cheek." She tapped her left cheek. "It only shows up with this one smile, a little lopsided one that I only ever saw when he looked at me after sex."

"Didn't need to know that." I shook my head and almost tripped over the edge of the bleachers. So, so did not need to know that. Because it was that same dimple I'd noticed when he looked down at me. I should tell him. But what difference did it make? We both agreed that we were a one-night stand and nothing else.