Seasons (26 page)

“Stop, Aden! You’re going to kill him! He’s a cop! Stop!” Aden looks at me and halts mid-swing.

Mitch is bloody but breathing. Aden kicks him and then grabs both my arms looking into my face. “Are you okay?”

“I…um…yeah, I’m fine. I just want to go home. Can you follow me home, please?” I beg him.

“Are you sure you can drive?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say trying to convince both him and myself. I can feel my right eye starting to swell, and it feels like flames have engulfed my face.

“Okay, I’ll be right behind you.”

We both jump in our cars leaving Mitch there groaning.

When we get to my place, I run through it like a mad woman getting the rest of my stuff into boxes. “What are you doing?” Aden asks following me around. I’m supposed to leave in two days. Change of plans. I’m leaving for New York tonight.

“Don’t you think you should file a police report or something?” he questions.

“You just beat the shit out of him with a baseball bat. Do you really think that’s the best idea?” Aden looks down at his hands nervously. “Thank you, by the way. What made you come back?”

“I sat in my car by the front entrance waiting for you to pull around the corner to leave. After a few minutes, when you didn’t come, I drove around to where you were and saw what was going on,” he explains. “Luckily, I keep a baseball bat in my trunk.” He smirks.

A shiver runs down my spine when flashes of what just occurred in the parking lot run through my head, spurring me back into action. “Aden, please help me put these boxes in my car. I’m leaving tonight. I can’t stay here anymore.”

“Where are you going?”

“To New York.”

“It’s a ten hour drive, Brynn. Wait until morning.”

“Look, you can either help me pack or you can get out. Either way, I’m going tonight.” I deadpan putting a hand on my hip for emphasis.

“Fine! But I’m off tomorrow, so I’m driving with you, and then I’ll take a bus back, no arguments!”

“Fine,” I agree handing him a full box to put in the car.

I ring out my hair and throw on some dry clothes before throwing the remainder of my clothes in boxes. Aden has taken a bunch of trips to load up my trunk and back seat with all my belongings. Thankfully, the rain has let up. We load the last of my things in, and I sigh in relief. “Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah, let’s go,” I say looking up at my building for the last time.

Aden drives the whole way, and I fall into a coma-like sleep for most of the way. When I wake up, we’re about an hour away, and my face feels heavy and misshapen.

“How are you feeling?” Aden asks.

“Tired and sore.”

We pull up to Trevor and Adam’s building and park. I realize as we walk up to their door that I haven’t called to tell them I’m coming. I was just so concerned with getting away. I silently pray they’re home as I knock on the door.

“Who is it?” I hear Adam call through the door. Oh, thank God. I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Adam, it’s Brynn.”

The door flies open. “Brynn, you’re early,” he starts to say, but gasps when he takes in my appearance. “What the hell happened?” He looks over at Aden who immediately looks at the floor. “Will one of you please tell me what the hell is going on? Brynn, honey, you look…excuse me, but you look fucking terrible! What the fuck happened to your face?”

“It’s kind of a long story. Is Trevor here by chance?”

“No, he’s out of town on business. He’ll be home tomorrow, but get in here and you can tell me all about it.”

I move to follow Adam into the apartment, but Aden stops at the door. “Brynn, I’m going to catch a cab to the bus station. You’re good here, right?”

“Yeah, I’m good here, thank you, Aden. Who knows what would have…”

“Stop, just the right place at the right time. Take care of her,” Aden says to Adam and then kisses the top of my head before turning and leaving me in the doorway.

“Goodbye, Aden,” I say to his back as he walks away. He turns back and smiles once before walking away. 

Adam helps me get some things from my car and sets me up with a shower. Once I’m dressed, we cozy up on his couch with tea he made for both of us. I recount most of what happened for Adam, who can’t stop shaking his head and hugging me.

“Brynn, you shouldn’t have gone through all of that alone all these months. Trevor thought you were just busy with school and a boyfriend. We would’ve been here for you. We had no idea.”

“No one did. I was embarrassed and ashamed. And things with Mitch didn’t really get out of hand until yesterday. I never thought...I never thought he would physically hurt me. He looked like he was possessed. His eyes were terrifying.”

Spilling almost everything to Adam is a relief, but at the same time, it’s as if I’m living it all over again. I crawl into bed and he tucks me in. When Adam leaves me alone, the dam breaks. Everything that’s happened over the past few months has left me broken, and I’m not sure if I will ever recover from this.

“Anyone who thinks fallen leaves are dead has never watched them dancing on a windy day.”

~Shira Tamir

Winter

Ten years later…

I tuck a bright red strand of hair behind my ear and wrap my long coat even tighter as I have a seat on a stool at the bar. Looking around nervously, I notice a male bartender in black dress slacks and a white button-down with a towel tucked into the side of his waistband. He’s at the opposite end of the bar. When he looks up and notices a new customer, he smiles at me and strides over to where I’m sitting.

“What can I get for you, hun?”

I hesitate before my confidence returns, and then I sit up straighter. Rolling my shoulders back, I push out my chest. At the same time, I cross my legs seductively and order a dirty martini. When he returns, I slide money across the bar to pay and swirl my drink with a straw before taking a sip.

Halfway through my cocktail, I feel a presence behind me. A shiver runs down my spine at the anticipation of what’s to come. The person behind me leans in, his face in my hair and his mouth an inch away from my ear. “Let me get your next drink,” he whispers. He takes a seat on the barstool to my left and reaches out brushing my hand on the bar gently with his fingertips. His touch sends fire coursing through my veins.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” I whisper.

Leaning into me, I can smell the wintergreen mint still on his tongue when he says, “Relax, love. No one will recognize you in that wig.”

“What if someone does? My husband can’t find out about this.”

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he whispers, picking my hand up and brushing the back of it with his lips.

We finish another round of cocktails and then hurriedly walk toward the elevators. Holding hands, we rush into the first elevator that pings open. No one is inside, and he attacks my neck first, knowing this is my ignition. He ravages the right side of my neck before palming a breast and bringing his head down to bury his face in my cleavage. Looking up, he fumbles around for a moment before he finds what he’s looking for and slams his open hand on the red emergency brake button.

He looks back at me with the eyes of a predator, and I feel as if actual butterflies might burst from my stomach. He pushes my back against the wall roughly before he drops to his knees. My coat flies open, and then he’s palming the cheeks of my ass. He pushes me up so my butt is resting on the bar along the middle of the elevator. Without warning, he rips my legs apart, pushing up the hem of my dress to reveal that I have forgone panties this afternoon. Picking up one after the other, he rests each of my legs on either of his shoulders. Groaning his approval, he buries his face in my folds.

I cry out and reach my arms up for something to hold on to as I near the edge of the cliff, but find nothing. All I can do is claw the elevator wall above my head as he relentlessly laps at me. A few short moments later, I convulse in his mouth as my orgasm racks my entire body.

Once I have composed myself, I hop down and rip my coat closed once more. Giving him a sly look, I reach over releasing the emergency button allowing the elevator to jerk back to life. When the door opens at our floor, I pull his hand, dragging him behind me to our suite. I can’t swipe the keycard fast enough, especially with him grinding his erection into my backside. I giggle when it opens, turn around, and pull him into the room by his tie. “No more games, I want you buried balls deep inside me,” I say as he kicks the door closed behind us.

We rattle the bed and walls for a good hour before we both lay in bed with broad smiles on our faces, exhausted and sated. I reach over and grab my purse from the nightstand, take out a pack of cigarettes putting one in his mouth and one in mine. He takes the lighter, blazing us both up and we lay there silent entwined in the sheets enjoying an afterglow smoke. Neither of us actually smokes, but sometimes I like playing Audrey Hepburn. When we’re done, I slink out of the sheet.

“I’m going to take a shower if you care to join me.”

After the shower, I dress as fast as I can, throwing the red wig in my purse. “Where are you off to in such a hurry? Don’t you want to cuddle?” he teases.

“Nope. Wham bam thank you ma’am! We can cuddle tonight. I have to get back to work to finish some research on a case. Thanks for the amazing lunch break, Mr. Madden. I’ll see you at home.”

“All right, I’m making something special for dinner tonight. Don’t be late.” He pulls me to him kissing me long and hard. “Have a good rest of the day, Mrs. Madden. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I say kissing him one last time before turning around to rush out of the room. He smacks my ass as I go. I jump, shriek, and shoot a glare back at him over my shoulder before I dash downstairs to flag a cab, smiling the whole way back to work.

*   *   *

Work flies by as usual since I have my nose buried in paperwork the rest of the afternoon, researching for a big upcoming case. When I leave the office, big soft, fluffy snowflakes have just started to fall and it’s beautiful. When I arrive home, I look up at our building like I do every single day and smile. The building itself is nothing special, but I know which apartment is ours, even from the ground, and I see our light on, signaling Chris is home. After five years of marriage, he still makes my heart beat faster and butterflies fill my stomach.

When I walk through the front door into the foyer of our condo, the amazing smell of Chris’ cooking arouses my senses. I know exactly what he’s making, and it only brightens my smile. I place my bag and briefcase next to the sofa table along the wall, making a clanging noise when I drop my keys in the dish. “Chris? I’m home.” I call to him and walk further in toward our kitchen. We have a beautiful place. I first fell in love with it because one entire wall of the living room is a huge window giving a picturesque view of the city. However, now I admire this place because it’s home. Together, Chris and I turned a beautiful, but bare and cold condo into a cozy home, our home. On every wall are memories—from the art we bought on our honeymoon and various other trips to pictures of us over the past seven years.

“In the kitchen, babe,” I hear Chris call. As I get nearer, the aromas permeating the air have my mouth watering.

I peek in and Chris has his back to me while he tends to whatever is on the stove. I sneak up behind him, snaking my arms through his, and wrapping them around his front. Still in my four-inch heels, I can almost reach to nuzzle his ear. “Watcha makin’ there?”

“Oh, you know, a little of this.” He turns his face to kiss the tip of my nose. “A little of that,” he says smiling a devilish smile.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask nonchalantly trying to keep a straight face as I pull my arms back.

“Been married to this old hag for five years today, thought we should celebrate.”

“Hey,” I say slapping his shoulder. I turn and reach for wine glasses overhead. “Old hag?”

He just chuckles while he finishes at the stove.

“You would be wise to remember that this old hag still has a mean right hook. White or red?” I pause before grabbing a bottle of wine.

“White, and did I say old hag? I meant beautiful, young.” He pauses pulling me to him. I have wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc in the other. He kisses my cheek and then my neck.

“Go on…” I prompt him to continue.

“Intelligent,” he pauses and kisses me a pinch higher up my neck. “Successful.” A little higher. “Did I say beautiful?” Then he goes in for the kill, kissing and nuzzling just behind my earlobe. I don’t respond. I just make a small moaning noise. I pull away before he can go any further.

Tapping my finger on the tip of his nose before I go to pour us some wine. “Nice try, but you have to wine and dine me first.” I smirk, slipping off my heels before hopping on one of the high-back bar stools at the island. Our kitchen is state of the art. Chris designed and remodeled it himself. Being head chef at one of the top restaurants in the city, he said he had to have the perfect kitchen in his home. I told him he could have any kind of kitchen he wanted as long as I didn’t have to cook in it.

The appliances are pristine in all stainless steel, but the deep cherry wood cabinets bring warmth to the space. The counters are white with a shimmer to them, and remind me of the white sand on our favorite Caribbean beach. The floors are tiled to match the counters and are heated, so even in the winter they are never cold on my bare feet. The stools around the bar, which is where we usually have our meals, are soft, dark leather. This room is the center of our home. We share our days here, meals, and on occasion, a naughty tryst. Chris loves and takes pride in this room—it’s his creation.

“You really went all out,” I comment popping a shrimp in my mouth.

“Don’t fill up on shrimp. I made your favorite.” He winks at me.

“I know. I could smell the garlic from a mile away,” I laugh. I grab another shrimp and lean over the island to feed it to Chris. He looks me in the eye and takes my offering. Grabbing the hand that fed him, he licks the sauce from my finger before he releases me with a grin playing across his face.

Oh, we’re playing games, are we? Well, game on! Relaxing back into my seat, I watch him go back to cooking as I take a sip of my wine. When he isn’t looking, I shimmy my skirt up just a tad so my garter belt is now visible, cross my legs, and release a few buttons for a pop of cleavage. As I see him turning back to me, I pop another shrimp in my mouth, close my eyes, and make a soft “Mmm” as I savor it. I open my eyes and find fire in his. “Those are so good, babe,” I smile playfully. As I say it, I grab the first of four pins holding my hair up and pull them out, one by one, letting my long brown hair cascade down and slowly shaking it for full effect. His hazel eyes now look like molten lava as his body turns from playful to predator mode again. He starts toward me as if he’s stalking his prey, knowing it makes me nervous. Chris loves to make me nervous, loves knowing he can still fill me with anxiety and excite me. He stalks over to me and moves my hair off my ear and neck, torturously slow. I gulp in anticipation when he leans in.

When his mouth is right at my ear he whispers, “Baby?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Please…don’t leave your shoes in the middle of the floor. Someone could trip.” He finishes and walks back to the stove laughing.

Instant pout mode. Game is definitely on, I think as I consider chucking one of my shoes at him. Chris comes back to the bar and places a small platter down with stuffed artichoke on it. He carefully pulls off a leaf and leans down offering it to me. Scraping the leaf with my teeth, I just about combust from the flavor in my mouth. When I swallow, he leans in and kisses me softly on the lips.

My husband is tall with just barely sun-kissed light brown hair. His physique is lean muscle, because he’s a runner like me and works out in his pastimes rather than a gym. The single most unique hazel eyes I have ever seen belong to Chris Madden. It was one of the first things we bonded over actually since I have strange chameleon eyes that change color daily based on what I’m wearing. Chris also has the most perfect square jaw line with the softest sprinkle of scruff. He’s panty-dropping, thigh-clenching gorgeous, and he cooks
and
he’s mine. I’m one lucky bitch.

After setting the places and refilling our wine, we sit down to eat a delicious dinner Chris has prepared. He feeds me oysters in a wine and garlic sauce and they are divine—like everything he makes. They say oysters are an aphrodisiac and they may be right, but I’m pretty sure it’s the sexy piece of man in front of me getting me all hot and bothered.

“You ready for dessert?” Chris says with a twinkle in his eye.

“I’ve been ready for
dessert
since I walked in the house.”

“I was referring to the crème brûlée I prepared this afternoon.”

“Baby, how much do you love me?”

“No, Brynn.”

“Please, Chris! Just this once?”

“You’ll burn the house down, and more importantly, my perfect kitchen.”

“No, I won’t. I’m under the supervision of a top notch professional chef. I’ll let you do it with me even! Please?” I beg like a child asking for candy.

Chris looks at me unsure of what to do. I give him my best sad eyes and it breaks him. “Fine,” he huffs.

Works every time.

I hop down and grab the tiny torch out of the cabinet where he keeps it. He wraps himself around me and takes a deep breath. “Stop. I’m not going to burn the house down. It’s just crème brûlée. You do it all the time.”

“Yeah, but I’m not accident prone like you.”

“Oh, shut it. Do I just press this?” I say, pulling the trigger.

“Good. Kind of wave it back and forth. Just like that.” I can feel him smile into my neck.

“See, piece of cake. Let me do the next one by myself.” I shake him off me and do it perfect just like the first one. I put the torch down and turn to him to gloat. “See, I can totally do this by myself.” I reach down and grab the porcelain ramekin without thinking and burn my fingers. Duh, you were just torching it, fool. I yelp and pull my hand back, putting my finger in my mouth. Chris is laughing and I smack his chest, pouting.

“Give me that,” he says, taking my hand out of my mouth and sucking my burnt finger in his mouth. After a minute, he takes it out and kisses the tip of it. “Better?” he asks.