“A future serial killer?” Tanner says. “Yeah, I’ve heard the phrase.”
“Well, this guy actually did enjoy pulling the wings off flies. His pranks started harmless enough. Hiding things. Crying wolf, that sort of stuff. Just normal kid stuff. But then one day, when I was about twelve, he created this whole fake competition to win a dog and spread it all over the orphanage. You had to write a poem – he knew I wanted to be a writer – and he even had a freaking PO box set up. Anyway, I write the poem, I win, and in comes the most beautiful little Jack Russel you’ve ever seen.”
A dark feeling creeps over me when I remember that smiling dog, tail wagging, tongue hanging out.
“This man was holding the dog’s leash, and he handed it to me and said I’d won. I had two amazing days with that dog until the real owner turned up. This motherf— do you know what he did, Tanner?”
“What?” he asks, voice somber.
“He’d stole somebody’s dog and paid some junkie, or whoever—he paid someone to pretend to be the organizer of the competition and give me the dog. I know it sounds silly, it’s just a dog, just a silly childhood thing …”
“No,” Tanner growls, letting his hand fall from the gearstick to rest atop mine briefly. “Because it wasn’t just about the dog. It was about your writing, too. That bastard—it must’ve been horrible.”
I nod, blinking away silly tears, and yet so glad he understands.
“Exactly,” I say. “It had a crazy effect on me. It made me really paranoid and that wasn’t exactly helped by school, with the way I was treated there. Ignored, mostly, but it was worse when I was seen, being looked at like I didn’t belong. Didn’t belong anywhere.”
I let out a strangled laugh, forcing away the sobs, not wanting to turn up to work bleary eyed.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Tanner says. “But you’re talented, Tess. You’re beautiful. You’re incredible. And I will never, ever trick you. You have my word. I’d die before I did that.”
“You don’t think I’m silly, getting hung up about something like that?”
“No,” he says at once. “The mind is a complicated thing. A speed bump for one person is a car crash of an experience for another. It’s all relative. What was this man’s name, Tess?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to find him and shatter his fucking ribcage.”
“He’s in prison,” I tell him. “For life. He did some very bad things, but he can’t hurt anybody anymore.”
“Good,” Tanner growls. “I hope he rots there.”
I reach over, then retract my hand, hesitating.
He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, smirking slightly. “You alright over there?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, flushing.
“What, Tess?”
“I was just going to touch your face. But it’s a bit weird, isn’t it, just reaching across and—Hey.”
I giggle as he grabs my hand and guides it to his salt and pepper jaw. I move my hand over the back of his neck, and then his shoulder, and then I just squeeze on as though he’s tethering me to reality, to sanity.
He’s my rock.
Mine.Chapter FourteenTannerAfter Tess’s shift, we walk through the park together, the late day sun shining down on us as we stroll hand in hand. I expect to feel strange holding hands with a woman – at least, I always thought I would when I became this intimate – but Tess isn’t just any woman.
Holding onto her feels right.
In fact, it feels like I never want to let go.
We walk toward the pond, ducks quacking loudly as they float across. Her hand is warm in mine and together we turn to watch a family feeding the ducks, a little boy with a gap-toothed grin on his face throwing breadcrumbs into the water.
Tess turns to me, her eyebrows raised, a little sweaty from work.
I’d have her no other way.
Human, real, sexy as hell in her barista’s outfit, the caramel shirt clinging onto her take-me form, her tights and skirt clasping onto her thighs, making me jealous and possessive because I should be fucking grabbing them.
“Yes,” I say, reading the look she gives me. “That’ll be us one day.”
She laughs strangely.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s just insane, isn’t it? I met you less than a week ago – you’re my teacher – and yet when you tell me that I’m going to have your baby one day, I don’t feel like running for the hills. How does that work?”
I grin savagely and loop my arms around her waist, pulling her close to feel the press of our bodies.
Her heartbeat is hammering, reverberating through me. Her skin pricks with goosebumps and she bites her lower lip.
Every time she bites her lip, I want to roar like a warlord and take her as my prize.
“You know how,” I snarl. “There’s something inside of me and something inside of you telling us that this is right. We’re fated to be together. And yeah, it’s true, I never believed in fate before you came along. But you’ve changed me.”