CHAPTER 15 - Amon

W hen I enter Rosie's house something inside me flips. It's a flip I felt coming since the very first day I came back to Disciple and saw her in the Rise and Shine coffee shop. It's a sense of being home.

A similar flip was felt when I met up with my parents and my sisters, but there was no accompanying longing.

This time, here with Rosie and her boy, I feel a longing.

"Come on in, Amon," Cross tells me. He's in the kitchen, on the other side of the counter, his plate already full of fried chicken and a burger. I was a growing boy myself at one point and my most prominent memory of being twelve was the hunger. Not like I was starving or anything, but I felt like I was fuckin' starving. All I wanted was food.

And Cross is no different than any other boy that age. He's stuffin' his face right there at the counter.

Rosie admonishes him. "My God, Cross. You're sending neglect messages the way you're eating. Sit your butt down at the table!"

Cross shrugs like he can't help himself, then walks over to the far side of the kitchen where a mid-century modern dining table is waiting. This is when I remember that Rosie's house is Lowyn's house, and Rosie moved in after Lowyn moved out to be with Collin at the compound. So this whole place is a like an advertisement for McBooms.

Which fits. Because Rosie Harlow dresses like she was born in the wrong century. Her outfit tonight is retro-reminiscent. Cut-off denim shorts and a light green crocheted halter top that could come off as slutty, but doesn't because Rosie Harlow isn't slutty, she's… cute. And in my opinion, you can be cute or slutty, but you actually can't be both.

"Here you go, Amon." Rosie hands me a plate and I take it, nodding at her like a gentleman to help herself to a burger and fried chicken. This makes her blush a little. But she grabs her food and a drink and takes it all over to the table.

I get mine as well, then join them.

It should feel a little bit weird because I've never dated a woman with a child, let alone had dinner with them, but there is nothing weird about this moment when I finally look across the table, right into Rosie's gray eyes. Everything about it feels like… providence. "Like an echo on the water."

"What?" Rosie, who is still looking me in the eyes, is confused.

"The call to Revival."

"What about it?" Cross says, his mouth full of food.

I'm still looking at Rosie. "The echo is the past and the water is the future. That's how I always thought of it. Which means it's not a passing, or a coming, but an arrival. ‘Let it be a sign,'" I say, reciting the words from memory. But not in a preacher way, just a matter-of-fact way. "‘A sign that the righteous will find comfort in the brave. And the danger will exist only in the damaged. Because when you give yourself to something higher, you will feel the relief that comes with the emptiness of anger and you will know, in your heart, that the blessing of grace is now upon you.'"

"Amen!" Cross bellows, then burps, laughing.

Rosie and I also laugh. And she just shakes her head. "Don't go reciting no holy words to me now, Amon. You might just make me blush."

"Oh, my God, Mom. Don't be gross. Your child is sitting at the table." Cross takes a breath from his eating and looks at me. "Can I come work for you?"

"What?" I laugh, thankful that he has changed the subject because I was about to let my eyes wander down that light green crocheted halter top of Rosie's because she fills it up in the most spectacular of ways.

"At Edge Security," Cross says. "Every boy in town is talking about how they're all gonna join up with you guys and let me tell you, they are jealous as all hell that you're at my house right now."

Rosie tsks her tongue. "Cross. Watch that mouth."

But Cross is still focused on me. "So I wanna know if I can join up." His eyes are intent and filled with a sort of hungry ambition that I've only seen on grown men as he waits for my reply.

Rosie doesn't give me time to answer. "Absolutely not, Cross." She doesn't say it mean and there isn't much reproach in her response, but she is firm. "You won't be joining up with no elite security outfit because you'll be in college."

"College is dumb." Cross is talking to me, not his mother. "Right, Amon? I mean, you didn't go to college. You went into the military. Do I have to spend time in the military in order to join your operation?"

"Military!" Rosie is fully paying attention now. "Why, that's just not in the cards, son. There will be no military."

"But do I?" Cross asks me again.

"No," I say before Rosie can lose her shit. "No, you don't need military experience." Which is a lie. There is no other way to get the knowledge and background necessary for what we do without a little bit of black ops under your belt. But I know better than to say this in front of Rosie. "You just need to train real hard, be real sensible, stay calm in every sort of situation you can think of, and"—I pause to wink at him—"grow up, of course."

Cross is with me for all of that until I get to the growing up part. His face twists a little as the words leave my mouth. "Well, I'm twelve now, you know. I'm not a baby no more."

Rosie sighs, like she's got a motherly sermon coming, but I interrupt because that's not what Cross needs to hear right now. "Nah, you're not a baby, Cross. Of course not. Everyone can see that. But you're gonna grow… hell… six to eight more inches, maybe? And gain another forty or fifty pounds. You gotta be a full-grown man to join our operation because we do serious things."

Cross, who has eaten everything on his plate at this point, leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Fair. I guess." But he's not all that satisfied with my answer. "But"—he holds up a finger—"there's nothing wrong with training when you're young. It's like being in martial arts, right? You start early and go up the levels. That's all I want. The chance to go up the levels."

"Can you shoot?" I ask.

"Of course I can shoot. I go huntin' every year with my friends and their daddies. I've gotten loads of turkeys and rabbits and I'm gonna get my first buck this fall, you wait and see."

"Can you… fight?"

"Amon?" Rosie is looking at me like she wants me to shut up now.

But I don't shut up because her boy and I are having a serious conversation. "Can you, Cross?"

"I'm joining the wrestling team next year."

"Good. You should definitely do that. Collin was an athlete when he was your age but I wasn't in any sports, so it's not strictly necessary."

"Yeah, but you were a marine. So you got outside training too, just like Collin."

"Cross." Rosie is done with this conversation. "You're not joining the marines, OK? Just… don't be in such a rush to make life-changing decisions."

We're still ignoring Rosie. "If you want, I'll take you hunting this year. We'll practice first. Do some shootin' out on the Edge range. And we'll tag that deer together. How's that sound?"

Finally, this boy smiles. "That sounds great, Amon. Thanks."

Rosie's still in mother mode, but the moment his attitude changes, she lets her objections go with a breath. The three of us look at each other for a moment, then Cross's chair is scraping across the floor and he's bolting up.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"It's not dark yet, Mom. I'm meeting up with the boys. I'll be back when the streetlights come on." Then he is out the door like a flash.

When Rosie turns back she and I lock eyes. "Thanks, Amon."

"For what?"

"Settling him like you did. You didn't have to. And don't feel obligated to take him hunting."

"Well, of course I'm obligated. I said I would, so I will."

"It's just…" Rosie shrugs up a shoulder. "What if this doesn't work out? Won't it be weird?"

"Why wouldn't it work out?"

"Oh, I dunno. A million things could get in the way. Maybe you don't like the perfume I wear. Or maybe… you don't like the way I chew."

My grin goes lopsided. "The way you chew?"

"You know, little things like that. Things you can't figure out you hate until you're in deep with a person."

"Well, if you're in deep with a person, then little things like that shouldn't make a difference."

This is the right answer because Rosie's grin is wide and real. She gets up from the table and walks across the kitchen.

"Where you goin'?"

But she doesn't answer me. Just walks over to the front door, looks at me, and then twists the deadbolt.

"Oh." Is that a…

But while I'm thinking this, she's already moved over to the large front windows and is closing the plantation shutters.

"Well…"

Then Rosie Harlow turns to me, cocking a hip. "Amon Parrish, would you like to have dessert first?"

My mouth is open, a little bit in confusion, but more in surprise. "I'm… not sure if that's a real offer of dessert or?—"

"It's the other kind."

I get up from the table, walk over to her, slip my hand around her waist, tug her right up to my chest, and let her fall back in my arms a little so she's looking up at me. Her breathing has hitched up a notch and her eyes are stuck on mine, like she's waiting for what comes next.

Which is a kiss. Our first kiss. Because when a woman you're pulling out all the stops for interrupts dinner to offer you dessert, a discussion is not necessary.

But just as I lean down to do this, Rosie says, "Small-town woman with shining gray eyes and a personality to match who also loves dogs is seeking a handsome man to make her swoon over hamburgers and fried chicken while he promises to take her son buck hunting in the fall. She is a bit dramatic, dresses like a teenager, and is perpetually optimistic. He kisses like a prince, fucks like a villain, and she wants him to take her right now because he said all the right things at the dinner table and deserves an extra-special helpin' of dessert for his efforts."

It is in this moment that happiness and I truly meet. She's not only pretty—she's clever, and fun, and made of sunshine.

I lean in, our lips barely touching, and whisper, "Desperately seeking you, Rosie Harlow." Then I kiss her. Slow and gentle at first, but it quickly escalates into something urgent and hard. Our mouths open, tongues searching. I reach under her ass and pick her up, gripping her thighs as I carry her over to the wall and press her against it.

Rosie laughs into my neck when I do this. But when I drop her legs, pop the button on her shorts, and start tugging them over her hips, she gasps, wide gray eyes looking up at me in either surprise or delight, then begins helping me out by shoving 'em down until they fall to the floor at her feet.

I reach under her knees and hitch her up again so her thighs are wrapped around my hips and use the wall to steady us as I press my hard-on between her legs.

We kiss again as her hand pushes between us, slips down to the button on my jeans and pops it open. A moment later she's pulling me out and running her fisted hand up and down my rock-hard shaft.

"I want to be inside you right now, Rosie." My words come out gruff and rough in a rumble, like thunder.

"Well, let me just help you with that, Amon." Rosie's cooing reply is sexy and smooth, like an echo crossin' water.

I hold her up with one hand, using the other one to push her panties aside as she guides my dick inside her. She's slick, and wet, and warm and she sighs out a breath like she's been holding it for years, waiting for this moment, just to let it out.

Everything that I've ever wanted out of life comes true in this moment. Because a feeling of utter completeness floods through my body as we move together. Breath hitchin' up, eyes locked in the moment, desperate to be even closer to each other like what's building between us might fade into a fairy tale if we don't become one.

I slow down a little, pushing harder and deeper inside her, and this makes her moan and close her eyes. But her mouth is open and her lips are teasing me, so I kiss her again as she throws her head back, wriggling her hips.

When she comes I'm ready too, but I hold it back until she's done because I don't want to miss a single moment of that plump mouth as it twists in bliss. She goes stiff and her head lolls back, revealing her throat. Her hips thrust forward and the whining and whimpering coming out of her mouth makes me want to explode inside her while she's coming all over my cock.

But I hold it in and go slow so she can enjoy herself to the fullest.

Just as she's about to wind down I bring my hand up, press my palm right up against her neck so my thumb is on her jawline, and I lean into her ear so I can give her a little boost and get her across that finish line one more time.

"Next time… I'll take you from behind, Rosie Harlow." I barely recognize my own voice, it's so husky and filled with lust. She must not either because her eyes slowly open—just halfway though. Like she's not quite finished, but at the same time, she can't help but pay closer attention to what I'm saying. "Next time I'm gonna blow your fuckin' mind, Rosie Harlow. Next time, you sweet peach, I will make you beg for it. But tonight… you get this."

And just as I say these last few words, I start fucking her. Like really fucking her. My head pressed into her shoulder, my arms straining as I grip her ass and hold her steady, and then I pull out, drop her, making her crouch in front of me, and I grin as she tilts her head up with wide, surprised eyes. Wondering what I'll do next.

Everyone knows what comes next and, if I'm being honest, I quite like the facial.

But you don't give a ray of sunshine a facial the very first time you fuck. I would not disrespect Rosie that way. Instead I bend down, spread her legs open, and look her right in the eyes as I come, squirting it all over her beautiful pussy.

I think she moans a little, but honestly, it's rather difficult to pay attention when I'm in the middle of raptured delight.

We both stay like this for a moment. Replaying what just happened.

Then, when I'm done experiencing my moment, I stand up and offer her my hand.

She blows out a breath and with it comes a smile. She accepts my hand and stands up in front of me. Her hair is all askew, looking very much just-fucked, and her halter top is all sideways. I look down at it, then up to meet her gaze. "Next time, I'm gonna play with those tits too."

Rosie blinks at me but doesn't say nothing.

I put myself back together, go into the kitchen, tear off a paper towel, run it under some warm water, and then take it over to her and start cleaning her up, wiping down her stomach and inner thighs as well as her pussy because I wasn't very careful with the aim.

When I'm done, I crouch down, pick up her shorts, and hold them up.

Rosie bites her lip, trying to hide a smile, I think. Then places her hands on my shoulders and steps back into her shorts.

I pull them up her legs, fasten the button, and then lean in and kiss her soft and slow, whisperin', "You are delicious. I'm gonna have myself two helpings of dessert next time."

Then I turn and head to the door.

I would like to spend the night, but I know the limits. There's no way that's even on the menu tonight. And as I'm walking down the path to my truck, the reason why comes jogging up the street.

Cross waves, cutting across the grass towards his front door. "Bye, Amon!"

I salute him. "See ya next time, kid." Then I get in my truck and smile like a fucking fourteen-year-old boy all the way back to the compound.