Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Tatum

Two months later

I take off my backpack and plop down on the bench, taking out my peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the front pocket. I’m in between classes and starved after eating only a fistful of Cheerios on my way out the door this morning, due to sleeping through my alarm. I’ve been doing that more and more lately. Not only because the baby growing in my belly is making me tired, but because…I think I messed up really bad.

I’m sad.

It’s hard to get out of bed when I’m sad.

I’m doing my best to be upbeat for the baby’s sake, but every time I close my eyes, I see Hoss’s face. His mask of pain and adoration and need. I trust myself to remember that I was truly afraid of him the night he returned. How could I not be when he killed two men so easily? When all of his movements were so sharp and raw and alarming?

I told him I couldn’t go with him.

That I needed to stay.

But I didn’t know I would be left feeling so hollow once he vanished.

I’m losing my mind a little, too, in his absence. I swear I feel him everywhere. Even when I’m sleeping at night, there is a sort of electric presence in my apartment. As if he left a piece of himself behind to haunt me. Haunt my decision to let him go.

I miss him.

I miss the way he looks at me, like I’m the ultimate treasure. I miss the way my heart trips over itself at the sound of his voice and the cherishing manner in which he kisses me, strokes my skin. I read somewhere that pregnant women get really aroused as the pregnancy wears on and I can now attest to that. My nipples are so sensitive that I am flushed by the time I finish fastening my bra in the mornings. I’m waking up wet and achy on the regular—and I can’t seem to get the same relief that Hoss gives me. What I manage to do with my fingers pales in comparison to the consuming rush I get with him inside of me.

Why didn’t I ask him to stay? Why didn’t I ask for time to get used to the new, rougher edges of his personality? It would have been worth it to feel his love right now.

To give my love to him in return.

Because I do. I love him.

It gets stronger and more obvious with every day that he’s gone.

I bite into my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, chewing even though it tastes like dust in the wake of my troubling thoughts. Where is Hoss? Is he all right? Does he still think and worry about me? Am I imagining the tingle at the back of my neck when I’m walking home at night? Or switching classes during the day? Maybe. Possibly. I don’t know, but I always, always feel safe now, no matter where I’m going. Or what I’m doing.

It’s like I’ve been surrounded in a protective bubble.

Last month, I started working as a campus tour guide to make some extra tuition money, so I could cover the extra costs not included in my student loans. After one day on the job, I was toast. Pregnancy and three hours on my feet did not mix well. I went home that night sore and frustrated. The next day, I was let go from the position—with six months’ worth of pay. My supervisor told me they wanted to help out a single mother in need, but I didn’t quite believe him. Still, it’s crazy to think Hoss had anything to do with my unexpected windfall, isn’t it? If he was near, I would know. Wouldn’t I?

I take a second bite of my sandwich and start to reach for the caffeine-free iced tea in my backpack, but something across the street from campus catches my eye. A new shop. The sign is colorful. Bright. Why does something about it feel almost familiar?

It takes me a moment to grasp why.

The font used on the sign is the same one used on the cover of the Comeback Girl covers. And the name of this new shop is Comeback Comics.

I drop my sandwich. “What…the heck?”

Before I know I’ve moved, I’m on my feet, backpack dangling from my fingertips as I walk through the crosswalk, drawn to the shop by a magnetic force. The font, the name…it has to be a coincidence, right?

Only, when I walk through the door, there is a scent in the air that immediately wakes up all five of my senses. There is the smell of musky comics mingled with fresh ones, yes, and that is enough to make my fingertips tingle. But underneath that is a dangerous frosted pine aroma that my body would know anywhere. My mouth salivates at the introduction of it and I make a small sound in my throat.

I spin around in the center aisle, my vision a kaleidoscope of color. “Hoss?”

There’s no answer.

There is nobody in the store, except for me, making me wonder if I’m imagining all of this. Like some weird pregnancy hallucination?

Seconds pass with nothing but the sound of my breathing and then I hear it. Rummaging coming from the back room. I turn in that direction, drop my backpack and start jogging, almost crashing into the very prominent Comeback Girl display.

Not a coincidence. This can’t be a coincidence.

“Hoss?” I call, running into the back room.

A man is bent over a stack of boxes, a ballcap pulled down low over his face.

“Hoss,” I sob, tears rushing to my eyes.

I expect him to drop the clipboard in his hands and open his arms. Embrace me. But he doesn’t. Instead, he takes several steadying breaths and lifts his head, looking at me briefly out of the corner of his eye, his knuckles turning white around the clipboard. “Not Hoss anymore. Daniel.” His chest rises up and shudders down. “Don’t come any closer. I thought I was ready to see you, but I just…I need a minute to get myself under control.”

The last part of that sentence is spoken in a rasp, his hand pressed to the center of his chest, rubbing furiously. What is going on here? I don’t understand. “Get yourself under control?” I sob, wiping at my eyes.

“So I don’t scare you again,” he explains, dropping the clipboard and bracing his hands on the cinderblock wall. “I can’t fuck this up.”

I’m trying to process everything at once. His words. The changes to his appearance. He has bulked up, become huskier. Grown a beard. Instead of his usual T-shirt, he’s wearing a button-down that strains around the swell of his muscles. My panties turn damp just looking at him, remembering the pleasure that body gives mine. Relentlessly.

But he isn’t touching me now. Why?

I can’t fuck this up.

My heart twists at the realization of what’s going on here. He scared me last time he arrived without warning. For the last two months, he’s been planning this. He’s been transforming himself with a new identity, preparing this shop in my honor, trying to get himself normal again so he could be right for me and the baby.

Now he’s afraid of breaking.

He’s holding parts of himself back because I wasn’t ready before and he doesn’t want to drive me away again. But I’m ready now. Not only have I been given the time and distance to know I don’t want to live without him, I know he would never be anything but good for me. For our child. The kind of man who would make this grand of a gesture is a king.

That’s how I want to treat him.

Like he’s the king to my princess.

“Daddy,” I whisper. He buries his mouth in the crook of his elbow and groans. Great shudders pass through him and he pounds a fist into the wall, but I’m not scared of him. Not anymore. I advance on Hoss…no, Daniel now. And I fit myself in between him and the wall, framing his face with my hands. “You did all of this for me?”

“I’d do anything for you,” his breathes raggedly.

I trace his cheekbones with my thumbs, along with his bottom lip. “You’ve been watching me.”

“I keep my Tatum safe.”

“You got me fired with six months’ pay.”

“When you walked home that night, I could tell your feet were hurting. I had to…drink myself unconscious to keep from breaking down your door and making you better. It wasn’t time yet. I had to learn how to be normal again. For you.” His hands lift and cradle my stomach. “For the baby.”

My chest is packed so full, I can barely draw breath. “I missed you. Every second.”

His eyes betray his inner turmoil. “I could say I missed you, too, but that wouldn’t even begin to cover the hell I’ve been living in without you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. The name is perfect. Comeback Comics. It’s perfect.”

“All for you,” he says, kissing my forehead hard. “Everything for you.”

My fingers go to the button of his jeans, unsnapping them. Carefully lowering his zipper over the part of him that is already huge and hard. Ready. I reach inside the opening and mold my hand to his thickness, massaging it while he moans, his hips rolling into my grip.

“No, baby,” he grunts. “Not yet.”

What? My brain refuses to understand. “No?”

Teeth gritted, he circles my wrist and tugs it away from his lap. “Please, I have to show you the rest before I lose myself in you, Tatum. Having a plan and sticking to it…that’s how I’ve learned to keep my hunger for you leashed. To control my rage at the world for having the nerve to be dangerous while you’re living in it. I’m barely holding on, but I can do it for you. I’d do anything for you. I just need you to trust me. Feel safe with me.”

“I do—”

“No. No, you’ll see the home I made for us first. I need to show it all to you. I need you to understand how much I love you, so you don’t send me away again.” He reaches down and cups my womanhood beneath the loose skirt I’m wearing. Encompasses all of me in his calloused grip. “Because the next time I’m buried in this, I want you to have confidence in me. I want you to be fully aware of what I’ll do to make you happy. You’ll be proud to have me as the father of your child.”

“I am.” The regret that has been building up inside of me for months breaks free, along with my tears. “I should have held on tight to you. I will now. Just let me.”

“I’ll let you do anything you want with me,” he breathes, cautious hope flaring in his face. “As soon as we’re home. I want you to see everything I’m offering before you give yourself to me. Your body. Your heart and future. You need to be sure.” A light of madness flickers briefly in his eyes, reminding me of the night he left. “Because God help me if you ever change your mind, Tatum. God help everyone in my path. Do you understand?”

Yes. I do. He needs me to commit completely.

I already am. I’m ready to be his. I never want to be apart from him again.

Maybe he needs me to understand the full scope of his love, the deep, the dark, the magnitude, before I throw myself to the wind. So he can always be sure I knew what I was getting myself into.

“Take me home, then,” I whisper.

* * *

Daniel locks up the shop and we walk hand in hand for five blocks, the trees growing denser, the houses larger. Kids play in the street and the sound of traffic grows more distant. Every time we reach a stoplight and have to wait for the crossing signal, Daniel pulls me into his arms and kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my mouth, whispering fervently how much he’s needed me. More than once, we miss the signal completely and have to wait for the next one.

I’m sensitive everywhere. My breasts are heavy, the back of my neck is hot.

I want to be laid down and ravished by this long-lost man.

But the set of his jaw speaks to his determination and I have no choice but to ignore the swelling desire and keep walking, until finally, we stop in front of a house.

It’s robin’s egg blue. The windows are trimmed with fresh white.

Shade and sunlight dapple the yard, a hammock swaying lazily in the breeze.

It’s private and cozy and exactly the house I would have picked if I’d had a choice of every single residence on the block. It’s perfection.

“This…is…”

“Ours,” he says, unlatching the gate and pulling me through. “It’s ours, Tatum.”

The daisies planted on either side of the brick path blur with my tears. Wiping away the moisture with my shoulder, I watch Daniel unlock the door with capable fingers. It pains me to know this wonderful man who loves me has been living in this dream house without me, but never again. I’ll never let him leave again.

We step into a small entryway and I can see the entire first floor from there. The brand new, rustic kitchen to the left. Living room furniture gathered around a fireplace to my right. A staircase traveling upward from the center of the space. But instead of leading me up, he takes me past the stairs, toward a small door. When he pushes it open, I give up all hope of stemming my tears, because there is a desk bathed in sunlight. Framed Comeback Girl comics on the walls. A portable crib folded up in the corner. A big, thick, round rug on the floor covered in pillows of all shapes and sizes.

“You’ve been doing so well in school,” he breathes against my ear, his hand sliding along the back of my neck and taking hold. “This is where you’ll study. Where you’ll sketch.” His hand scrubs down my spine. “Right where I can see you. Right where you’re safe.”

“It’s incredible. The whole house…is incredible.” I make a choked sound. “You did all of this for me?”

He bares his teeth at my temple. “There is no end to what I would do for you.”

Love and lust are snaking through me at such a rapid rate, I can barely remain standing. I’m…worshipped by this man. He’s showing me the proof. Now I need to feel it.

Moreover, I want him to feel the proof that I worship him back.

I am done being waylaid. I need to get…way laid.

Thank God I didn’t say that out loud.

“I love it, Hos—Daniel.” I glide my palms up and down his pecs, listening to the growl kindle in his throat. “I want to live here with you forever. You, me and the baby.” I unfasten his jeans again, both of us already starting to breathe faster. “But right now, it’s just you and me…”

Unexpectedly, his left hand circles my throat, his hold firm, but gentle. He searches my eyes long and hard. “You making me a commitment, Tatum? Because if you are, it’s forever. No exceptions.”

“Forever,” I say, trembling under the onslaught of need, the wet rush between my legs. “Forever,” I echo, kissing the notch of his throat.

“No matter what, Tatum.” His jaw ticks. “Even when I’m a little insane?”

“Yes.” I lick the stubbled curve of his throat. “Because I know your love is stronger.”

A hoarse rendition of my name is his only response.

I trail my mouth down his chest and stomach, landing on my knees on the soft rug. I force myself to be careful unzipping over the large protrusion even though I’m desperate to get the taste of him in my mouth. He’s never been there before, but somehow my body already knows what his exact texture and size and flavor will be.

Perfect. Smooth and hard.

Beating veins and a thick tip.

His fingers sink into my hair like he owns me, my mouth—and he does. I look up at him like a servant while I bring him repeatedly to the back of my throat, lavishing attention on the bulbous head of his erection with my tongue, watching it turn more and more purple every time I break for air, stroking him in a tight fist, wet friction noises filling the room.

Nostrils flared, he looks down at me and groans my name, over and over again, one hand leaving my hair to massage his balls until I’ve learned enough to take over the task. He unbuttons his shirt with shaking hands and tosses it down on the ground.

Looking up at his broad, muscular form, the hair and tattoos and wounds, I suck harder. I suck like a woman in awe of a warrior, because I am. I’m shaken by my gratitude and appreciation for this man. My need to please him. My love. My relief that he’s back.

“You missed your man’s body, didn’t you, baby?” He takes hold of my head, beginning a slow, crude thrusting rhythm into my mouth. “Turns that hole slick and willing, doesn’t it?”

I moan a yes around his arousal, rubbing the underside of him enthusiastically with my tongue, his balls growing harder in my palm.

“You should feel what your body does to mine. There’s no comparison.” He grits his teeth, head tipping back to face the ceiling. “I can’t even believe you’re sucking my cock right now. I’m…maybe this is a dream.”

Wanting to convince him otherwise, I open my throat and bring him another inch deeper, swallowing, the walls closing in on him, earning a stripe of salty spray on the back of my throat and a shouted expletive from Daniel.

“Fuck!” He guides his erection out of my mouth with a wince and reaches for the leather office chair, dropping down into it heavily, pulling me off the ground with desperate hands. “Sit on it, little girl, and ride. Need some of that pregnant pussy. Now.” He hauls me between the V of his thighs—and Lord, he is such a marvel of masculinity and lust that I’m straddling him in the middle of his hoarse instructions, both of us yanking my panties to the left so I can sink down, down, down on his thrumming inches.

Before I can roll my hips, his fingertips settles on my ribs…

And I’m being tickled.

The high-pitched notes of my giggle fill the office and I squirm on his lap, gasping when he grows harder, his eyes flintier. His touch digs more firmly into my sides and I jerk up and back while he hisses expletives, my womanhood turning damper around his impaling erection. “Fuck yeah,” he growls, slapping my ass hard. “Wiggle around on it, baby.”

I do as he says. I wiggle and squirm while he tickles me, giggling uncontrollably.

Until he bares his teeth and rams his hips upward, bouncing me on his lap several times, rattling my molars. My scream splits the air, an orgasm that has been building for months careening through me, pulling every one of my muscles taut, dropping me into an endless round of spasms. Tight, release, tight, release, moisture flooding down where our bodies join and dripping to the rug. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” I chant, writhing as close as possible, grinding my womanhood against the base of his hardness, the rub of my clit making the climax fuller, longer, so overwhelming that my vision triples.

“Broke into your apartment while you were in class. Every fucking day. Jacked off with everything you own. Stroked my cock with your pillows and scrunchies and panties.” His hands take my backside in a bruising grip and he starts to pull me up and back, impaling me again, again, again on his hardness, his hips thrusting up to add to the impact. “Even broke in a few times while you were there, sleeping like a little princess with these buns up for grabs.” He spanks me roughly, one cheek after the other. Smack. Smack. “Licked in between them once, couldn’t help it. Had to get some sugar, baby, and your legs opened right up in those sheets, wanting more. Never come so hard in my life. Right there on the shitty carpet.” The rhythm of his body entering mine grows jagged, urgent, his breathing erratic. “Until now, huh? You’re about to fuck me up so bad with that tight little brat hole, aren’t you? You know what Daddy needs. That wet cram. Those hips hitting just right. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

I’m picked up and laid down on the floor, pinned, his hips giving one final drive before he begins to shudder, his body straining, flexed. Getting deep as he can before letting go, his jaw slackening, thick semen filling me almost instantly and seeping down around the connection of our bodies, his body jolting with aftershocks, more releases of moisture, for long, fraught moments, our hands clinging, eyes locked. Looking into one another’s souls.

“I love you, Tatum,” he rasps.

“I love you, too. Hoss. Daniel. Whoever you are, whoever you’ll be.”

He can’t speak for long moments. “One of these days, I’m going to get the girl of my dreams into an actual bed,” he finally says into my neck, his mouth worshipping me with kisses.

“How about today?” I whisper, bringing his forehead down to mine, letting him see how much I adore him. Accept him. Always and forever. “We have nothing but time.”