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“Thank you.” I didn’t know why it felt so vulnerable to say that. Why was offering my thanks so raw and open? I packed my backpack. I figured it would be a few days before I could get back there. My grandparents were on a bender and sometimes they left the house, wallowing around in bars and crack houses. Sometimes this was the crack house. It was tonight and would likely be for the next several days.
I stuffed extra clothes and toiletries in my backpack along with my laptop, charger, and notebook. I scoured my room for where I’d hidden cash and shoved some into the bottom of my backpack.
I slipped out the front door. I had half expected a scuffle or confrontation but Grandpa was too busy screaming at Grandma for him to notice. I walked down the long driveway and made it just about to the end when I heard Trask’s truck pull up. I ran the last several yards and hopped in, planting a kiss on his lips before he could ask anything else.
His warm hands held my face and wiped a rogue tear away. “What happened?”
“Too much whiskey, a tiny space. I’m fine, but I needed to get out before they realized I was there.” I sniffed again. “God, I hate how I get teary when I’m angry.”
He kissed me again. “Let’s go draw a bridge.”
I held his hand tight. He drove toward the beach, veering off to the shoulder and onto a small gravel road leading down and around a hill. It was still light out, but the sunset was only an hour or two away.
“A train trestle?” I questioned as Trask backed the truck up, tailgate pointing to the giant structure.
“Not used anymore, too much money to keep up on repairs. But look how gorgeous she is.” Trask beamed, reaching into the back where he pulled out a large bag. “I brought snacks. Grab the blankets, will you?”
I reached around behind me and tried to ignore the flip my stomach just did. This man was too good. I met him at the tailgate and he helped me lay the blanket across it and then he helped me up. I should have fought it, my pride was telling me to shout, “I’m no flower, I can do it myself,” but I couldn’t help but blush and feel my insides melt when he effortlessly lifted me by my hips to the bed of the truck. He hopped up next to me, wrapping the other blanket around us.
He set the bag of goodies down. “Hope you don’t mind an eclectic mix.” He pulled out a few apples, a bag of gummy worms, some trail mix, chips, and half a bar of chocolate. “I just grabbed what I could from my pantry.”
“Were you with your parents?” I asked, eyeing the bag of potato chips.
He nodded. “Seems like I’m there on most weekends now. The holidays make my mom a little high-strung.”
“Why is that?”
“My older brother, Jude, kind of walked away from here. Went to school for a year and just couldn’t handle it. He was always a free spirit. He moved to California and became an EMT. Spends most of his days hiking and surfing and traveling. Doesn’t come out here much and I think my parents feel his absence more this time of year.”
“Do you miss him?” I asked.
“Yes and no? I mean, he always took the heat of things, I know older kids are supposed to be the golden kids or whatever, but he always marched to the beat of his own drum. Obstinate. Maybe that’s why I work so hard to please my parents. Jude caused chaos.”
I snorted, and he raised his eyebrows at me. “Sorry,” I quickly added. “I didn’t mean that as a bad thing. I just think that it’s interesting how every family has a little chaos, small storms within their walls, no matter what type of family. Welcome to the club.”
“I don’t think we can compare our home lives to each other.”
“Why?” I asked, staring him down, hiding the smirk threatening to break over my face. “I think our childhoods were exactly the same. Tell me, which foster home was your favorite? How many stuffed animals did you collect from the trips to the courthouse? I still have my favorite one.”
Profound sadness stole over his face, and he pulled me into him. “Oh, sweetheart.”
“Trask,” I laughed, trying to push away but his grip became like iron. “It was a joke. Poor attempt at connecting with you, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He kissed me, and my stomach did that stupid flip again. “Don’t ever be sorry for your past or what the people in your past have done to you.”
I kissed him back. Hard and long and intense. I moaned when he bit my bottom lip, sucking on it.
“You seem stressed,” he whispered into my mouth.
“No more than usual,” I said as he pulled me onto his lap. I straddled him on my knees, kissing his lips again.
He pulled away, kissing my jaw and neck toward my ear. “I know something that can help relieve some tension.”
My hips moved against his lap while his hands slid down my front. He teased my nipple but continued his path down to the waistband of my jeans. He hesitated for a moment before popping the button. I worked hard at steadying my breathing. Despite the cold, I was hot, and it felt like I’d swallowed a hundred butterflies.
His cold fingers trailed past my waistband and hovered over my panties, his fingers gently swirling over my clit. I kissed him again. His mouth opened to me and he took control, his tongue diving in and exploring, nipping, and biting at me. His fingers never stopped moving, and I ground my hips against him, searching for something, needing that release.
He stopped, and a whimper escaped me. I needed more. I was faced with a smirk that made my knees weak. He pulled his hand from my pants and traced his finger up over my belly, between my breasts, and up my neck, sending shivers all along my body. His middle and index finger hovered over my lips and instinctively I opened for him. He slid his fingers into my mouth and I sucked and was rewarded with a guttural moan from his throat.
