The torment of two, p.17
The Torment of Two, page 17
Of course he’s late.
Naturally.
Aubrey, with her daughter Rue sitting in her lap, waves me over. As much as I want to cuddle my niece, I’d rather be ready for Two’s arrival. Spencer saves me when he steals the seat beside her and then starts tickling the baby.
Dad watches me with narrowed eyes but doesn’t speak to me.
Finally, the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it!” I shout, bolting for the door.
I’m grinning from ear to ear when I fling it open, ready to leap into Two’s arms. Except, it’s not Two. It’s a man.
One of Dad’s friends.
Chief of police and Sloane’s boss, Hiroshi Tanaka.
The strange bird-like man bores his stare into me. Normally, I might blow off such an intense look, but something about him unnerves me.
“Hello, Gemma.”
His icy cold tone makes me shiver. He waits patiently, like a friggin’ vampire, for me to welcome him inside. I’m tempted to close the door in his face.
“Hiroshi,” Dad greets from behind me. “So happy you could join us today.”
Dad clutches my shoulder and gently moves me aside so he can usher in Tanaka. Their newly formed friendship wasn’t all that surprising. Dad aligns himself with anyone and everyone of importance. Having the chief of police in your back pocket is a flex my dad no doubt wanted to have.
I want to ask Dad why this man is here, but I bite my tongue. When I catch Sloane’s stare on me, she gives me a comforting smile. She’s obviously trying to assure me that it’s okay. Nothing to worry about.
So why do I feel edgy now that this man is here?
I could just be paranoid.
Before I can read too much into it, Two’s hunk of junk roars down our road. He skids to a stop right in front of our house. Since the driveway is full, he leaves his vehicle where it stopped, blocking our road from anyone coming or going.
As soon as he steps out of the vehicle, I run out of the house toward him. He’s waiting for me and catches me when I launch myself at him. Our mouths meet for a starved kiss, each of us mauling the other with desperation.
Yeah, we’re good.
Really good.
We pull apart to grin goofily at each other. He can be cantankerous and strange and obtuse, but he’s also cute, sweet, and funny. I love being with him. It truly is the highlight of my day when I get to see him.
I finally pull away from him and reach for his hand. “Ready for the firing squad?”
He snorts. “Yup.”
Then he pulls my hand closer to his face to inspect my nails. “I like these. It looks like real gold flecks on the matte black.”
I preen at his compliment. “I did them last night after you left.”
“What is that stuff?”
“It’s this really fine gold foil that sort of disintegrates when you handle it, giving it a gold fleck effect. Cool, huh?”
“Very.”
He kisses the back of my hand before letting our hands drop between us, though still conjoined. I lead him into my house where my family’s chatter dies down to meet the newcomer.
“Two?” Tate exclaims in shock. “Holy crap!”
Tate rushes over to us and hugs Two. “This is the girl who ran you over with her car?”
I gape at Two. “You told him that?”
Two shrugs and smirks. “Yes, because you did.”
“I hit you. I didn’t run you over.”
“Wow,” Tate says breathily, eyes wide with awe. “I have so many questions. So many. We’re going to talk about this tomorrow in our session.” He motions for the table. “Come eat with us.”
I introduce Two to everyone as my boyfriend. Some of the family doesn’t know the whole drama about the canceled adoption and Mom knowing his dads, but it doesn’t feel like the right time to fill them in. Especially not with Hiroshi Tanaka watching us with cool interest.
When we’re finally seated to eat, Sloane leans into me and says, “Tanaka’s here to meet with your dad about the stalker. See if he can offer his help. He’s good people.”
Is he, though?
The man continues to study me and Two.
“Yeah, sure,” I mumble.
I glance past Sloane to see Dempsey frowning hard. He’s never been Tanaka’s biggest fan. He must be feeling my uneasy vibes through our twin bond because he’s watching Tanaka like he might be about to do something stupid.
Like kidnap me?
The thought of going anywhere with Tanaka makes me shudder. Why isn’t his wife along for the visit? Why doesn’t he talk much? Why does he keep looking at us?
Finally, Tanaka tears his gaze away from mine to look down at his phone. He pecks away on it with one long, bony finger before he puts it away.
Seconds later, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I freeze, terror clawing its way up my throat. It’s him. Tanaka is my stalker. Swallowing down bile, I fish my phone out of my pocket and read my message.
Except it’s not a message.
It’s a calendar reminder to turn in an interest form for a school workshop.
Not Tanaka. Just a reminder.
Ugh.
Fear is my new normal and I hate it.
Two
“What if it’s Mr. Pederson?” Gemma whispers, eyeing the papers he gave to the two of us when we came into class this morning. “He seems weirdly fixated on us as a pair.”
I glance at our professor and frown. He’s just some old dude who loves historical restoration, not a stalker.
“I think you’re reaching,” I mutter back, nudging her under the table with my foot. “You’re paranoid.”
She shoots me an irritated look, but it’s the truth. Last night, after a loud dinner with her family, she told me all about how she thought the police chief was her stalker. I think, at this point, anyone could be the stalker according to Gemma.
Worrying about everyone without definitive proof is pointless.
Mr. Pederson continues his lecture. Rather than take notes—since I know my girlfriend will anyway—I focus on the man himself. I’ve been to his house before with my parents. Nothing stood out to me as creepy. He’s wearing a fedora, bowtie, and suspenders, for fuck’s sake.
Definitely not him.
I tear my gaze from Mr. Pederson to look down at the form he pretty much threatened me to fill out. I’d remembered seeing something about it in my school email recently but didn’t bother filling out the interest form for the cultural heritage workshop. Now, as it would seem, Mr. Pederson is forcing us both to fill it out.
“My two best students.”
He’d said those exact words earlier when he thrust the papers at me. Okay, so maybe she has a point about him being weirdly obsessed with us as a pair, but that doesn’t make him a bad guy. He knows how much I enjoy all this historical preservation stuff and must sense Gemma’s growing interest as well.
The workshop is coming up in a few weeks. Students were welcomed to apply, but there will only be a handful selected for the intimate event. Aimed for students showing a keen interest in the subject matter, the workshop is a collaborative event with local preservation societies. Mr. Pederson thinks it’ll be a great way for me to get connected with the community and would look great on my résumé. Plus, there’ll be dinner and I do love to eat. It sounds right up my alley and if Gemma gets to go too, it’s a win-win.
Gemma must eventually give up worrying about Mr. Pederson because she studiously takes our notes. When class is over, I grab the form she’s completed plus mine before turning them back in to Mr. Pederson.
“Good work, Sheridan,” he says with a toothy grin. “I know your dads will be thrilled if you’re accepted to attend.”
I give him a nod and stride out of the classroom. Gemma hurries behind me, clasping her hand around mine as soon as we’re alone. We barely make it halfway down the hallway before Dax nearly runs us over.
“I found a place,” Dax exclaims, showing me his phone. “It’s in a seedy part of town, but it could be ours for really cheap.”
“What is it?” Gemma asks, peeking at the phone with me. “You’re moving out? Why?”
“It’s time,” I explain with a sigh, absently searching my jacket pocket with my free hand for one of my butterscotch candies. “I haven’t told my dads yet, though.”
Gemma looks at the property and shakes her head. “That’s in the old biker hangout. Gross. Don’t get that place. Who knows what kind of bodily fluids are on every surface there.”
How she knows where an old biker gang hangs out is beyond me. But after a quick glance through the pictures, I agree that it’s not someplace I want to live.
“Keep looking,” I tell Dax, handing him his phone back. I unwrap my candy and pop it in my mouth. “We’ll find someplace better.”
Dax deflates. “Mom’s driving me insane, though. I’m half tempted to move into your closet, Two. Can I? Please?”
“And everyone says I’m the dramatic one?” I scoff. “It’ll come at the right time, man.”
He grunts in agreement and then heads off for his next class. I walk Gemma out of the building toward our cars that are parked side by side. As we approach hers, something yellow flutters in the wind. Gemma stops several feet from her car. I let go of her hand, striding over to it.
At least I know it’s not Mr. Pederson. He was in class when we arrived and was still there when we left. I pluck the note from the wiper blade and read it.
I always have my eyes on you, pretty girl. Always. Remember that. Think before you act. Be a good girl for me.
What the fuck?
When I whirl around, Gemma is on the phone, shivering despite wearing her stylish leather jacket.
“Come on,” I growl. “We’re going to see the campus police.”
She nods as she hurries to catch up with me. From the bits of conversation I overhear, she’s on the phone with her dad. As much as this weekend sucked when our secrets were revealed, I’m thankful to be having others help with this stalker shit.
“Dad’s on his way,” Gemma says as she pockets her phone. “He’s calling the dean, too. They’re all going to meet us at the campus police office.” She takes the letter from me and quickly reads it. “This guy needs to get a life.”
I sling an arm over her shoulders and pull her into my side as we walk. This stalker guy is slick—too slick. It makes me nervous as fuck for her.
Soon, we’re entering the campus police office and reporting our findings. The older gentleman with a thick gray mustache jovially flirts with Gemma as he fills out a report, totally not reading the room.
She’s scared, dude.
Leave her the fuck alone.
Carl Vaughn.
The hairs on my arms stand on end. What if this leering old man is the creep who’s been terrorizing her?
Damn, I’m getting as paranoid as she is.
Not long after, Nathan and the dean come striding in together, nearly matching in navy three-piece suits. Nathan’s tie is a paler blue, whereas the dean’s is red. Both men wear stern expressions.
“Miss Park,” the PMU head dean, Dr. Skeller, greets. “Your dad’s filled me in on what’s going on. Are you okay?”
Gemma glances over at Carl and barely suppresses a shudder. The small shiver can be seen if you’re really watching. Apparently, both me and her dad are because Nathan pulls her to his chest.
Gemma clings to him, letting him hug her tight. I want to do the same.
“I’m fine,” she finally manages to answer. “I’m just tired of this.”
“Mr. Vaughn,” Dr. Skeller instructs in a firm tone, “please check any security footage we may have on the parking lot mentioned in her report. If there’s anything unusual, report back. We’re going to catch this guy. If he’s doing this to Miss Park, he could be doing it to other students.”
Carl, no longer eyeballing my girlfriend’s tits, nods emphatically. “I’m on it, sir.”
“I didn’t think about this happening to other students,” Gemma says with a grimace.
“We’re going to get him,” Nathan assures her. “I promise.”
I hope it’s one promise he can deliver on.
Rather than our usual office visit, I’m meeting Tate at Park’s Peak, a trendy coffee shop in town with a magnificent view of the mountain. The report with the campus police plus the subsequent talk after with Nathan and Dr. Skeller had me missing my appointment time completely. Luckily, Tate was understanding and wants to meet up now that my classes are done for the day.
I pull into a spot next to his Jeep and climb out. He’s inside, sitting by the window, and waves. When I make my way inside, I’m happy to see he’s ordered for us. In my empty spot, a coffee and a pastry await me.
“Hey, man,” I say as I take my seat. “Thanks.”
Tate smiles and then sips his coffee, eyes boring into me. “Do you know how hard it is for me to keep it together right now?”
A snort rips out of me. “I can only imagine.”
“Seriously,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. “What are the odds that Golden was my future sister-in-law?” His features tighten. “I do want you to understand that what we talk about remains confidential. I’d never betray that and speak to her about you.”
Even though I hoped that was the case, it relieves me hearing it from my new friend. Gemma knows my deep, dark secret—hell, she’s the deep, dark secret—but I still don’t like the idea of someone else telling her all there is to know about me.
“Yeah?”
Tate nods several times like a bobblehead sitting on the dash of a cruising car. “Absolutely. And now that we’ve cleared that up, can we please discuss everything?”
Everything.
For so long I’ve kept everything under lock and key. Now that it’s out in the wide open to virtually everyone—especially those closest to me—it doesn’t feel so nightmarish.
“Well, it all started when I was nine.” I glance around to make sure no kids are around. “I was on a hunt to prove to my best friend Dax that Santa was real.”
Tate smirks. “He totally is. I’ve seen him at the mall before.”
I chuckle and realize I’m not dreading this as much as I thought I would. It makes me wonder if I could tell the whole story to Dax next. He certainly could use an explanation for why I can be melancholic at times.
For the next hour, I unload all of my past and all of my present onto Tate. To his credit, he listens intently, doesn’t interrupt, and encourages me to keep going. Once I start talking, I can’t seem to stop. We end up going for another round of coffee and pastries just so the people won’t kick us out for staying so long.
“It’s a lot to take in,” Tate says when I finally finish. “How are you feeling now that your dads know?”
I ponder his question for a bit. “Relieved for sure. Maybe a little dumb.”
“Dumb?”
“For carrying this for so long. For not talking to my dads about it sooner.”
“That’s not being dumb, Two. You were scared. Understandably so.”
“But all of this could have been avoided if I’d spoken up.”
“Hindsight is 20/20. If we all knew better, we’d never have any regrets. We’re human, though, which means we fumble through life doing our best and slipping many times along the way.”
I study my friend for a long beat. “You have an uncanny way of making people feel normal even though they’re anything but.”
“Being ‘normal’ is abnormal if you ask me. No one is normal. We all have our quirks and hang-ups and past experiences to haunt us. I’m glad you feel comfortable confiding in me, though.”
My phone buzzes and it’s Dad checking in on me. I quickly reply back to let him know I’m still with Tate. He sends an excessive amount of heart eye emojis that make me shake my head.
“Someone should take the emojis off his phone. Is it possible?” I show him the message to prove that Dad overuses the emojis more than even Dax does. “Can your hacker lover do it for me?”
“My hacker lover can do anything.” Tate’s grin is wide and silly. “Give your dad a break. He clearly adores you.”
I let his words wash over my newly healing heart.
My dads do love me. So fucking much. In a way, I’m glad the deep, dark secret was revealed because it gave my parents the opportunity to state their case and profess how much they love their only son.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. He and Pops do love me,” I say, returning his smile. “Damn, that’s a really good feeling.”
Gemma
Two weeks later…
“Stop,” I say, breathless. “We’re going to get caught.”
Two groans, pulling his lips away from my neck where he’d been hell-bent on giving me a hickey. He also slips his hand out from under my shirt. This is the problem with us. Whenever we’re alone together—which is rare these days—we collide with the fire of a thousand suns.
But we’re always at risk of getting caught by someone who would frown heavily at seeing the two of us maul each other.
As much as I love our stolen moments, I want more. I want the two of us to have time to explore each other’s bodies. I want to take the final step of physical intimacy with Two, but I don’t want to be rushed.
His large, bony hand cradles my face as he searches my gaze. Then a devious grin curls his lips up. “I know where we can go for some privacy.”
I rack my brain for what that place here at Hemingford Hall may be and land on the hidden room we found.
“I know which closet they keep their linens in,” Two continues with a twinkle in his eyes. “Towels too. I could meet you in there in five.” His brows knit together. “That is, if you really want to.”
I’m still panting from our hot make-out session. Of course I do. Now that the possibility is finally here, though, I’m nervous.
“I want to,” I squeak out.
“But?”
“I’m scared.”
He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “We don’t have to, Golden.”
“I do want to, though.” I gnaw on my bottom lip. “Will it hurt?”
