Crash Ride (28 page)

“You wouldn’t happen to have the note would you?”

“Yeah, it’s here.” Brad pulled the folded piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on the desk in front of me. The deep lines and wear on the paper indicating it had been read and refolded numerous times.

Dear Brad,

When I was younger I’d sometimes get mad too, but instead of beating myself up, I’d take it out on the skins. Maybe it’s worth a shot? It doesn’t have to be musical, just make some noise. And don’t be scared to hit them hard — trust me, they can take it.

The note was incredibly sweet and had all the hallmarkings of Troy. I could almost hear him reading it to me himself. It seemed that Brad and I then embarked on a game of let-me-say-one-thing-but-I-actually-mean-another. I was actually really good at this game, and short of have telepathy; I could read the subtext pretty damn well. This is how the conversation went and what was my interpretation.

“It’s not signed?” Translation— Do you know who sent it?

“Nope, no return address either.” Translation— someone obviously hiding their identity.

“Well it’s a really nice gesture, who ever sent them.” Translation— let’s dance around the fact that it was probably Troy who did it.

“Yeah, he must be pretty cool.” Translation —I know it was your husband.

“Yeah, he must be.” Translation — yeah okay, so we both know it was my husband.

See. It’s a great game and anyone can play. Now let’s get back to therapy so I can find out whether this grand gesture was just a social experiment or if it actually helped the kid.

“Has it helped?” I leaned forward in my seat, already knowing the answer to what I was asking. “Playing the drums?”

“Yeah, I feel less angry.” The evidence of that in his less explosive responses and the massive drop in expletives used when talking. “I’m even taking lessons.”

“That’s really great, Brad.”

We spent the rest of the time we had discussing strategies, but I could tell by the change in him already that he would make it. It wasn’t going to be a cakewalk, and he had a long road ahead, but for the first time since that angry boy had stepped inside my office, he seemed to want the change.

We said our goodbyes and I instructed Brad to make another appointment and he’d barely shut my office door when I reached for my phone.

“Megs.” He answered on the second ring.

“Troy Harris, do you have something you need to tell me?”

He had to have known I’d eventually find out. I mean, Brad’s my patient, talking is what we do.

“Okay, Megs, I’ll come clean. All the people on
Lost’s
Oceania flight 815 were dead the whole time.” He barked out a laugh.

“Ha, ha. Very funny. No something else.”

“Is this about the lingerie in the back of the closet?”

“What? No. You bought me lingerie?”

“No it’s for me actually, but sure I guess you can wear it.”

He was having way too much fun with this. There was something about the two of us on a phone. I don’t think he had the capacity to have a serious conversation with me.

“It’s not about underwear.” My fingertips massaged my temples as I calculated how much longer to let this play out.

“Can I buy a vowel?”

“Troy.” Okay so obviously not very long. “Did you buy a drum kit?”

“As in ever?” He laughed, my question clearly ridiculous.

“Okay, you’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?”

“I say we keep playing this game. It’s fun and kind of like charades with audibles. Sounds like…”

This conversation was going nowhere fast. “Troy did you send Brad Hemsworth a drum kit?”

“That’s odd, did he say I did?” He didn’t sound half as surprised as he was trying to.

“No, the note was
anonymous
.” The emphasis on the last word for his benefit, not mine.

“Oh see, I’m
Harris
not
anonymous
, both end in
s
so I can see how you got confused.” He annunciated the words— both his last name and anonymous— slowly for effect.

“Troy!” I actually huffed into the phone.

“Megs!” He mimicked, but with less huff and more chuckle.

“Tell me,” I demanded. Did we establish eons ago, I have an acute need to know?

“Assuming I did and I’m not saying I did but purely for this exercise let’s work on the hypothetical.” There was finesse in Troy’s voice that was smooth and un-frazzled. Clearly I hadn’t been the only one who’d watch CSI.

“Fine,” I humored him. “Say it
might’ve
been you.”

“Okay, so based on that assumption if I had sent a drum kit wouldn’t it stand to reason that you best not know anything about it, where it could cause a conflict of interest in your treatment of him?”

Of course he was right. His silence was protecting me from a wading through an ethical minefield. I mean technically it wasn’t breaking any rules but Troy contacting one of patients? Even if his intentions were pure… Yeah, let’s file that under
it would probably have given me a nervous breakdown had I known at the time.

“Troy, I know it was you. How did you get his address?”

There was no way he would have been able to access my patient information. Not unless he was moonlighting as a computer hacker.

“Well,
hypothetically
you’re not the only person who knows how to use
Google
.”

“Even though I can’t sanction what you did, it was a really good thing and I love you.” My heart swelled for this amazing man who never ceased to amaze me.

“I love you too.” His voice oozed sweetness. “Oh, but while we’re doing confessionals.” He paused and I had no idea where he was going with it. “You want to tell me how a pair of my autographed sticks found their way into one of your storage boxes?”

Oooooooohhhhhhhh. Yeah. Those. Totally forgot about the sticks I swindled from Dan when he’d pumped me for information for Ash’s birthday. Probably should have hidden those.

“Is that kind of creepy?”

Did I really need to ask?

“Nah, the photoshopped picture of us at the
AMAs
is waaay creepier.”

Huh? What photo? I cast my mind back to try and recall if I’d ever done that. Let’s face it. It did sound like me.

“I did not photoshop myself into a photo with you at the AMAs.”

Or at the very least I was ninety-nine percent sure I hadn’t.

“No, I did. It looks great too.” Troy chuckled. “Thinking of making it our Christmas card.”

The smile spread across my face. Yeah, we were made for each other.

“Bye Troy, love you.”

“Bye Megs, love you more.”

“Dude, we are so
lame. Can you believe we went to
Scores
and spent more time talking to each other than checking out tits? I got bored half way through the lap dance and actually paid the chick fifty bucks to stop.” Dan and I stepped out of the elevator and into our shared hallway. Times were definitely a-changin’.

“It’s where you said you wanted to go, douchebag. Did you not specifically ask for a strip joint for your Stag party?” If I’d had my way, we’d have gone and shot some pool at
Donavan’s
, maybe smoked some cigars. Watching chicks bump and grind the pole was not my idea of a good time, and it hadn’t been in a long while.

“Yeah but it’s no fun any more. I mean—if anyone is going to be rubbing my junk, I want it to be Ash.” Dan swung his keys around his fingers, ready for us to do the catch-ya-laters.

“You are such a romantic, dude. Brings a tear to my eye.”

“Hate all you want to hate. Going inside to my girl.”

“Later.”

The key went in and the lock turned, the door creaking slightly as it opened. I cursed under my breath, it was late and I didn’t want to wake Megs.

We’d been out to celebrate Dan’s last few weeks of freedom but I’d been lucky if I’d had three beers. It wasn’t the ring on my finger that was stopping me from having a good time; it was the zero desire I had to look at any other woman that wasn’t my wife.

My wife. Best fucking thing that ever happened to me was that blonde powerhouse that was tucked up in my bed, and not a day didn’t go by that I couldn’t believe my luck that she was mine.

Trying to keep the noise to a minimum, I did my usual strip on the way through routine, dumping my clothes in the hamper before heading to bed. The smell of stripper’s perfume and cigarettes left behind as I made the familiar walk to my bedroom.

Megs was naked, sprawled out on our king size bed, her hair all over her face with her head on my pillow. The big-ass grin spread across my face as I watched her sleeping, her legs kicked out taking up most of the room, her hands lying on the space I’d usually be occupying.

I quickly hit the shower, rinsing off the stench of my ordinary night out. I toweled off and headed back into our bedroom, hoping the water hitting the tiles hadn’t been enough to disturb her.

Still sleeping.

My eyes focused on Megs’s body, which had inched over slightly while I’d been getting clean, giving me just enough room to crawl onto the mattress. The smell of her got me instantly hard the minute I’d slid in between the sheets.

“Holy Fuck.” My voice echoed louder than I’d meant. Megs wrapped her hand around my cock as soon as my ass hit the bed, barely giving me enough time to turn and see her huge smile.

“Hello, Troy Harris.” Her voice purred, clueing me in that maybe she hadn’t been sleeping the whole time.

“Did I wake you, sweetheart?” I tried not to focus on her hand slowly moving up and down my shaft.

“Tell me, Troy Harris.” She ignored my question, instead shuffling up the bed, giving me more wrist action as she continued to talk. “This hard-on, is it for me? Or did you see something else you liked tonight?”

“Only you, Megs.” My eyes nailed her as she tightened her grip around my cock.

“I’ve missed you.” Something in her tone had me guessing that she hadn’t meant just tonight. The last time I’d been inside her had been over three weeks ago.

“I’ve missed you too.” My hand itched to touch her skin as it moved over her tits. “You sure about this?” I asked, needing to know this was exactly what she had in mind.

She didn’t answer, instead dipped her head into my lap and swirled her tongue around the head of my dick, her teeth gently pulling on the ring on the tip. So I’m assuming that would be a yes.

“Fuck, Megs.” I cursed out a breath, the feeling of her mouth on me better than I’d remembered.

“That’s what I’m trying to facilitate here.” She mumbled as she pulled my cock out her mouth. The words familiar, kicking us back to our first time.

“Yeah? Well who am I to deny my wife what she wants.”

My interest in the blowjob was superseded by the need to get my mouth on her, my body moving quickly as I splayed her out on the bed. The green light had gotten me so juiced up I wasn’t sure which part of her would be getting my attention.

She yelped as her ass hit the mattress, my mouth making the decision as it licked her nipple, my hand palming her other tit.

“Troy.” She moaned as my tongue got reacquainted with her pink peaks, moving from one and then other. It wasn’t like me to play favorites, making sure each of them got enough of the loving feeling.

Being the dedicated guy that I am, I continued the mouth action down her body; the echoing of my name acting as my soundtrack as I gently parted her thighs. She was so fucking wet.

She arched her back, giving me better access as my tongue invaded her pussy. The “Holy Shit” while she bunched the sheets beside me all the encouragement I needed as I sucked and licked her clit.

“Don’t stop.” Her hands locked around my head holding me in place as she twisted her fingers through my mohawk.

If I could have told her that telepathically and not by actually stopping what I was doing, I would have let her know that there was zero danger of that.

She thrashed as I slid two fingers inside her, my tongue keeping busy as it circled her clit.

“Troy,” she moaned as her hands moved from my head to her body, her fingertips kneading her tits as her legs started to shake.

She was close, and with one last flick of my tongue, she was pushed over. Her beautiful tits heaving up and down as I teased out the rest of her orgasm with my fingers.

“Mmm. I love watching you come.” The fingers that had been buried in her pussy found their way to my mouth, my lips closing around them, as I tasted her one last time. “You want to go to sleep now?” I teased, with no intention of putting the brakes on. Nope. Not until I’d sunk my cock deep into her and felt her come at least one more time.

“I want you in me,” she panted, her hands fixing on my shoulders and pulling me down onto her. Her mouth clamped over mine as I tried not to crush her.

My arms wrapped around her body and I rolled her on top of mine, adjusting her so my cock hit her in all the right places.

“What part?” I palmed my hard-on, circling the opening of her wet pussy.

“That, I want that.” She moaned as she rubbed herself against my hard-on

“What’s that? You need to be clear with me. I’m having a hard time understanding,” I hissed out not sure who was I was torturing by holding back— her or me.

“Your cock. I want your cock,” she all but screamed.

Well then, you heard the lady. My dick got into position, demanding I put us both out of our misery as it slid in an inch.

It was quick—way quicker than I had meant to —but I sunk into her in one fluid thrust, her pussy fisting me as I entered her. The skin on skin contact drove me insane as I moved slowly out, and then pushed in again. It was like I was on autopilot as my cock slid inside of her.

“Megs.” I pulled back, my drive to sink into her giving me temporary amnesia, and the fact we hadn’t done this in a while not getting the attention it deserved. “Did I hurt you?” I couldn’t see her face, her head buried in my neck as she breathed heavily.

“I said.” She kissed my neck as she shuffled up my body, her knees hitting the mattress as she straddled me. “I want your cock.”

“I love your fucking dirty mouth,” I hissed through clenched teeth as I pulled her back down onto me.

She didn’t give me a chance for another thrust, linking her hands into mine, using them for leverage as she pushed down to bury my cock deep inside her.

She writhed on top of me, my mouth no longer capable of talking as she met every one of my thrusts with one of her own.

“Troy.” She begged me, her body not quite there as she rode me.

“Right here, sweetheart. Feel me?” I pushed deeper inside her as my hand reached down and thumbed her clit.

“Yes,” she screamed, the extra attention my hand was giving her enough to tip her over. “Oh. My. God.” Her pussy milked my cock as she exploded on top of me. Her body collapsed onto mine as she rode out the rest of her orgasm.

“Megs, I need to come.” I couldn’t hold out any longer, the pulsing that was travelling up the length of my shaft driving me fucking insane. One more thrust was all it took and I shot my load into her, kissing her hard as I emptied into her.

Movement was obsolete, my arms the only part of me still operational as I snaked them around her body and held her, both of us still shaking.

“Are you okay?” My hand brushed her hair off her shoulder, slightly pissed at myself I hadn’t been able to rein it in and give her more
making love
and less
fucking
.

“I’m fine now.” Her giggles vibrated against my chest, her face still pressed against my body.

Her fingers traced the lines of my new tattoo, the one that I’d gotten just an hour after saying “I do.”

“I love this.” Her lips kissed the gray-scale tiny feather that sat just above my heart, a smaller replica of the ones that decorated her skin. A tribute not only to Megs but also to the little life we’d lost.

“Yeah, me too.” It made it a little easier knowing that they would both always be with me.

“Megs.” Thinking about the baby gave me a different kind of wake up call. “I wasn’t wearing any protection and you’re not on the pill anymore.”

Sure we were both sporting matching rings and the same last name, but I assumed we’d need to have a sit down and discuss whether we were going to try for another baby or not. Have the second time around happen with a little less of an OMG moment. Probably a conversation we should have had thirty minutes before we’d started fucking.

“I kind of realized that once I felt the ring inside me, but there was no way I could ask you to stop.” She rested her head on my shoulder, those blue-green eyes owning me as she smiled.

“So how would you feel if we just made a baby?” I didn’t know what the chances were— but sex without any barriers—it was a definite roll of the dice.

Her wide eyes blinked as if the realization had finally hit her, the possibility higher than average.

She didn’t give any words, instead pushing her lips down on mine, my mouth getting on the same page as I kissed her.

“Megs, do you want to make a baby?” I rephrased the question, thinking that the new improved way of asking had a nicer ring to it. My cock that was still buried inside her, stirred with renewed interest.

“Yes, Troy Harris. I want to make a baby.” Her eyes started to glass, rapid blinks chasing down her tears.

“Well then, Megs Harris, let’s get you knocked up.”