The Imperfections by Sam Mariano

5

Brant

As days go,this one’s the slowest.

Even though the cell signal’s shit on some parts of my property, I’ve never regretted getting rid of my landline until now. I don’t have much use for a phone most of the time, but today, I wish like hell I could call my house and just make sure she’s there to pick up.

Despite spending half the day convincing myself she’ll be gone by the time I get home, I take a break before the grocery store closes and run over to do some shopping. I don’t have an exhaustive list of what my house needs, but I do know Alyssa told me I needed to buy more eggs. While I’m there I pick up a couple steaks, some bread, bacon, another grapefruit, a couple of bananas, a box of spaghetti, and some red sauce. I know Theo said she made spaghetti one night, but I don’t know what else she makes.

As soon as I can shut the doors to the public, I do. Normally, my employees hate closing with me because my standards of cleanliness are higher than the Sunday night manager’s, but tonight I decide the place is as clean as it needs to be and we all leave early.

I never work Sundays, so I have the day off tomorrow, and dumb as it is, I’m kinda looking forward to spending it with Alyssa.

Assuming she’s still at my house, anyway.

When I get to the end of the driveway and see lights on inside, I start to get my hopes up that she’s here. I tell myself she could have just left them on before she left to throw me off for a few extra minutes, but when I get the front door open and my nose is assaulted by the aroma of a fresh lemon scent, my hopes rise higher.

That’s gotta mean she mopped the floors. Who mops the floors and then leaves?

She’s not in the living room or kitchen. I check the screened-in porch, but she’s not there, either.

My hopes start to fall, but I tell myself she’s probably just upstairs. Instead of going to check right away, I lock the front door, shut off all the lights, and put away the groceries I just bought.

As I’m doing that, I can’t help noticing how she tidied the place up. All the counters are sparkling clean, the sink is empty and clean as it’s ever been, and the floors have been swept and mopped. Scout’s dish is empty, of course, but the bowl isn’t just licked clean; it’s obviously been washed.

I don’t usually have the time to do that stuff, so it’s nice that she did.

Once the food is put away, I turn off the lights and head upstairs. I don’t hear anything, though, and I’m starting to worry she did leave, and she just cleaned my goddamn house first. That seems like the kind of thing she’d do, knowing she had all day. I’ll go upstairs and find no Alyssa, no Scout, just a clean, empty house.

That depresses me a little more than it should, and that doesn’t bode well. I don’t know why I like having her here. Usually I like being off on my own, just me and Scout, but somehow it feels like she could fit into my life if I wanted her to.

It’s probably just because she hasn’t been here long, so it’s a novel experience. Give it another day or two and I’m sure I’ll be ready to get her out of here so I can get back to my solitary life.

I keep filling my own head with reasons it’s good she’s gone, offering myself the solace that even though she left, the fact that I didn’t get arrested today must mean she doesn’t hate me too much. Maybe she just went home and she doesn’t want any trouble, but she doesn’t ever want to see me again, either.

As I approach the landing at the top of the stairs, I note that the hall light’s on. Peeking down the hall, I can see my bedroom light is on, too. I try to ignore the anticipation that builds with each step I take toward it, but it reaches even higher as I start to realize there’s music playing, and it seems to be coming from my bedroom.

My whole being lightens when I get to my bedroom door and see Alyssa dancing around inside. She appears to be doing laundry, folding the T-shirt of mine she wore at breakfast this morning. She’s showered and clean, her long blonde hair falling in smooth, shiny waves down her back. Since I still have her clothes locked up, she’s wearing one of my red flannels, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her pretty legs bare. I imagine she’s not wearing panties again—unless she pulled some out of thin air—and my blood warms at the thought.

I don’t know how she knows the words to the song. She’s way too young to know his music, but she’s singing right along to one of my favorite Tom Waits albums. I don’t know how she figured out how a record player works, either, but that’s what she’s listening to.

Scout lies on the floor by the bed, sleeping peacefully while Alyssa amuses herself.

I sigh, leaning my head against the doorjamb as she and Tom Waits sing I Hope That I Don’t Fall in Love with You.

I want to kiss her so goddamn bad.

Swallowing down the desire to do that, I take a step into the room. Alyssa tucks my neatly folded T-shirt into a drawer beneath the bed, and as she bends over I get a peek at her ass. Yep, no panties. I really like that habit of hers.

Her body shifts as she straightens and goes to grab a towel she hasn’t folded yet. She must catch sight of me in her peripherals, because she gasps and clutches her chest.

“Oh my God! You scared me.”

I crack a smile. “Probably the right response.”

She huffs and rolls her eyes as she turns to face me. Then she smiles and holds out her arms. “See? I’m still here.”

She doesn’t know how good that feels, and I don’t know why it does. “You are,” I mumble, nodding my head. I know from my response she’d never guess I’ve agonized about it all damn day, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Scout and I had a busy day,” she tells me. “I cleaned everything. Scout watched and gave me solid feedback on the things I missed, so of course he’s tuckered out.”

“Of course,” I murmur, playing along.

“Your house was definitely in bachelor condition, but now it looks like you have a domestically inclined wife, so… you’re welcome.”

“I appreciate it,” I tell her, moving toward her until I’m close enough to reach out and grab her around the waist.

She gasps in surprise as I tug her close to me. I don’t know why some part of me still expects her to recoil, but she merely smiles up at me and rests her hands on my shoulders. “Hi,” she says amiably.

“Hi,” I say back.

Her gaze drops to my lips and her teeth sink into her bottom one. Then her gaze moves to my eyes and she licks her lips, practically inviting me to kiss her.

I want to, so I don’t know why I don’t. Looking past her at the record player, I ask, “How do you know Tom Waits?”

“We’re close personal friends,” she states.

I cock a disbelieving eyebrow.

Her eyes twinkle with amusement. “Actually, I’d never heard of him before today. I don’t know any of the music you have, so I just picked records at random until I found one I liked. I really like this guy’s voice. It’s raw and rough and kind of… smoky? Does that make sense? I sound like I’m describing meat, but…” She trails off, unsure how to explain it.

I crack a smile. “There was this music critic, Daniel Durchholz, who famously said Tom Waits has a voice that sounds like it was ‘soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months, and then taken outside and run over with a car.’”

Her eyes light up and she lightly smacks her hand against my bicep. “Yes, that’s exactly how it sounds.”

I shake my head, surprised. “Damn. You’ve got good taste in music for someone who looks so much like a Barbie doll.”

“You shouldn’t judge people by their appearances,” she says cheekily.

“I guess not.” I reach out and catch one of her long, smooth locks of hair between my fingers. “You sure are pretty, though.”

Despite her censure a moment ago about judging her appearance, that brings a flush of pleasure to her cheeks. “Thank you.”

I let go of her hair and bring my hand in to touch her face, running it along her jaw. She holds my gaze as my fingertips skim the side of her neck, the curve of her shoulder. I drop my hand lower and palm her soft breast in my hand. The little gasp that slips out of her goes straight to my cock.

“You ready for bed?” I ask, voice low.

Alyssa nods her head, not waiting for direction this time. She undoes the couple buttons of my flannel she bothered to button up, then pulls it open and peels it off, revealing her naked body for me to look at.

My cock jerks against the prison of my pants. My gaze drops to her perfect tits, then I tilt my head and take one in my mouth. She sighs with pleasure, bringing a hand up and pushing her fingers through my dark hair. I tease her hard little nipple with my tongue and she moans, sending a wave of arousal through me, twisting up my stomach.

I break away from her abruptly, walking over and turning the light off. I’d like to leave it on so I can look at her, but I know once I’m done fucking her, I’ll be too drained to move again.

Alyssa quickly clears the last towel off the bed, taking it to the bathroom while I undress. I walk over and turn the record player off, kicking half my clothes off on the floor she just cleaned. Damn, I feel bad making a mess already, but not bad enough to delay getting her in that bed.

I’m naked when she comes back in, and I can’t help noticing her taking advantage of the opportunity to check me out. Last night wasn’t passionate, especially for her. She was nervous and I was tired. I got mine, but I didn’t take the time to take care of her, and she didn’t seem to expect me to.

That’s not how it should be, not what she should expect of a man she’s giving access to her body, and I don’t want her thinking it is since her experience is so limited. I don’t know what kind of lover Theo is—don’t want to know—but I’d guess selfish.

Tonight when she climbs into my bed, I’m more like a lover than a debt collector. I bring her close, bending my head to lavish attention on the breast I didn’t kiss before.

I love the way she tangles her fingers in my hair and holds my head close to her breast. I love the little sounds she makes when I tease her nipple, the way her body arches up off the bed when I break away and start kissing my way lower. I kiss her all over, running my lips across her smooth, taut skin. It reminds me how young she is, and that should do more to kill my arousal, but fuck it. She’s legal.

She twists away as I kiss below her belly button and then lower.

“Brant,” she says quietly, looking down at me.

I move between her legs first, then peek up at her. “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m about to eat your pussy,” I state plainly. “Why?”

Her whole body seems to flush. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You sucked my dick last night, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” she says.

“So it’s your turn, isn’t it?”

“I don’t…I don’t know. You don’t have to, anyway,” she says, shaking her head.

I cock my head curiously. “Have you not had your pussy eaten before?”

“I—” Her furious blush deepens. “No, and it seems…I mean, I wouldn’t want to do that, so you don’t have to.”

“You’re a straight woman—I wouldn’t expect you to want to do that,” I acknowledge. “I’m a straight man, and I very much want to do that. You’re not gonna deny me what I want, now, are you?”

She still looks unsure, but I know she won’t for long once I get my mouth on her pussy, so I ignore her objections, spread her pretty thighs, and lightly run my tongue right along her entrance.

“Oh!” Her legs jerk, and I wrap my arm around one thigh to keep it anchored while I work. I lick her again before stabbing my tongue inside her and drawing another startled noise out of her. “Oh, God,” she murmurs as I lick along her pussy, exploring the tight little hole I can’t wait to fuck.

I’ll be damned if she’s not wet enough tonight.

Once I’ve lapped her up and explored her whole pussy, I focus in on her clit. A tremor travels through her body the first time my tongue flicks it. She tenses, her tummy muscles tightening as she lifts up, pushing herself against my face.

I grab her hips to keep them where I want them since she won’t stop moving and strum her clit like an instrument I’ve spent my whole life studying. She loses control pretty fast, arching up off the bed and crying out loudly. Her cry drags on, her head thrown back, her eyes closed as her body convulses in rapture.

Finally, she falls back against the bed, breathless and sated. She lets out these little satisfied half-sighs, half-gasps, like she can’t believe how good it felt.

“Wow,” she murmurs. “Wow.”

I smirk, climbing back up beside her. “Not so awkward, now, was it?”

“Oh my God,” she says, turning and burying her face in my chest. “That was incredible. That was amazing. I… Wow.” She presses her lips to my bare chest, kissing me. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I tell her, lightly rubbing my hand down her back.

In response, her hand snakes down between my legs and she grasps my cock. “Oh, but I do.”

I’m a little shocked when she pushes me down on my back, straddles me, and guides my cock to her pussy. I watch her mouth open and her eyes close as she lowers herself, taking me inside her inch by glorious inch.

On instinct, my eyes close as my cock slides into her hot tightness, but I open them just a second later, not wanting to miss the sight of her pretty tits bouncing while she rides me. She starts slowly, her body still tight and resisting. It doesn’t look like it hurts her, but she moves like it’s uncomfortable at first. Once she lifts herself up and lowers back onto my cock a few times, her body seems to adjust.

Alyssa plants her hands on the sides of my waist, looking down at me with her golden hair all around her shoulders. A few strands cover her tits, but I can see her hard little nipples peeking out as they jostle with the movements of her body.

This is fucking paradise. There’s so much I want to look at, I can’t even take it all in. It’s hard to look away from her tits, her beautiful, perfect fucking tits, but everything else is just as appealing. I look her over greedily, like she’s a delicacy that’ll be gone soon and I need to devour her while I still can.

And she is. That’s a sobering thought. It’d be depressing as hell, if not for the beautiful blonde riding my cock right now, looking like every fantasy a man could possibly conjure.

Fuck.

I let her ride me for a while longer so I can enjoy the phenomenal view, but when she starts to slow down and bends to pepper my chest with kisses, I grab her hips, pull her off my cock, and throw her down on her side of the bed.

She gasps in surprise and looks up at me. I switch positions and come right down on top of her. I grab her long, shapely legs, absently kissing her soft skin when it’s near enough, then I drape them over my shoulders. I use one hand to lift her hips, the other to guide my cock to her pussy, then I drive forward, drawing a groan out of her as I slide all the way in with one smooth thrust.

“Oh! Mm, I like that,” she murmurs thickly.

“Yeah?”

She nods, closing her eyes. “You feel so good inside me, Brant.”

I lean down closer, pushing my fingers through her long golden locks and bringing my forehead against hers as I move inside her. “Your pussy is actual paradise. It’s not like paradise—it is paradise. I could die here and not have a single complaint.”

“I might have a complaint or two. Don’t die while you’re fucking me, because that would be super hard to forget and I would probably never have sex again.”

I laugh a little, shaking my head at her. “I’m not that old, don’t worry.”

Alyssa rolls her eyes at me. “I wasn’t calling you old.”

“I’m a little old,” I admit, “just not that old.”

Shaking her head as she reaches out and threads her fingers through my hair, she tells me, “You’re not old, you’re experienced, and I like what I’m seeing of your skill set tonight.”

That startles another little laugh out of me. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed while fucking anybody before, but it’s surprisingly nice to feel that comfortable with someone I’m so attracted to. “Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs, nodding and touching our foreheads again.

I tilt her hips and make her like it a little more as I slide my cock back and forth inside her. Alyssa responds so well, wrapping her arms around me and meeting my hips thrust for thrust. I know she doesn’t have a whole lot of experience, but what she lacks in skill, she more than makes up for with enthusiasm.

I drive into her over and over, collecting all her sounds of pleasure, focusing on her as much as I can when my mind is splintering apart. She’s so fucking noisy, and I love it. She gasps and she whimpers, she cries out and digs her hands into the bedding. She acts like I’m driving her as crazy as she’s driving me until finally her cries turn desperate and her pleasure reaches its peak.

I pound into her furiously, my whole body quaking with pleasure as she comes apart with me inside her. Her slick pussy convulses around my dick, wringing out wave after wave of bliss. The guttural sounds I’m making join her cries of satisfaction when I thrust deep and fill her full of my cum.

Tonight, Alyssa’s arms come around me naturally as I collapse on top of her, no hesitation or uncertainty. I rest my head on her soft breast, listening to the steady thumping of her heart as she tries to catch her breath after her orgasm.

I can’t believe last night I had ideas about stopping that heart, and now, here I lie, wrapped in her arms after fucking her—and she wanted it.

“That was amazing,” Alyssa says, snuggling me close.

I’m too sated to say much, but my lips curve up and I offer back, “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“So much,” she murmurs, closing her eyes.

I close my eyes for a moment, too. Alyssa’s fingers move through my hair absently, tenderly, and the foreign sensation of peace tugs at me. I could fall asleep right here on top of her with my cock still inside her and her playing with my hair, and I’d be perfectly content.

After a few minutes, I move, not wanting to crush her beneath my weight any longer. Tonight she’s not shy or uncertain, so she doesn’t wait for an invitation—she scoots over and snuggles up against my side, resting her head on my bicep and curling her slender arm around my waist.

I can’t believe the difference between last night and tonight. I can’t believe how receptive she is to a man she didn’t even pick for herself. I practically demanded she fuck me, and inside of 24 hours, she’s curled up against me, naked and sated, content as a kitten like I’m the man she’s dating instead of the man who put a gun to her temple just yesterday.

I’d like to think it’s this natural for her for the same reason it’s so natural for me—whatever that reason may be—but a little doubt tickles at the back of my mind. Theo’s words about his experience with her come floating back, reminding me how accommodating she was for him, how it “just happened” the first time and then she went along with whatever he wanted afterward.

The more I think about it, the more it worries me.

Is she letting me fuck her because she actually wants it, or does she just not know how to say no? Her upbringing wasn’t the greatest; that’s pretty clear. She undoubtedly has a mess of emotional issues, and what if this is part of it? What if she’s this susceptible to anyone who wants to fuck her, even if she’s not really interested?

That makes me feel worse than holding a gun on her and making her take my cock would have. If she doesn’t know any better, am I taking advantage of her in the worst kind of way? Preying on a young, damaged girl who simply doesn’t know how to stand up for herself?

That feels all kinds of wrong. She shifts beside me to get more comfortable, and I look over at her.

“Hey,” I say softly, trying to get her attention.

She looks up at me with her big, trusting eyes. “Hey, back.”

I swallow, looking away from her for a split second, then bringing my gaze back to hers. “I know I said a lot of things last night,” I begin.

“Things like what?”

“Things like… what I said about you making it worth keeping you around.”

“Oh. Yes, I remember,” she says, like we’re reviewing a lesson she learned in school. “What about it?”

“You know that doesn’t really apply now, right? I mean, I changed my mind about hurting you. I don’t want to do that, so… if you want to tell me no, you can. If you don’t feel like having sex with me, all you have to do is tell me that.”

“I did feel like having sex with you tonight,” she tells me earnestly.

“I know.” I pick up her hand and bring it to my lips, absently kissing it. “I know you did. I just want to make sure you understand, when I—or any other man—want to have sex with you… you don’t have to do it. You know that, right?”

“Well, I think when that man has a gun and he’s threatening to kill me, I probably should,” she disagrees. “I know some people are like ‘Better to die with my dignity!’ but personally, I’d rather live. Plus, I don’t think having sex costs me any dignity. Maybe some people don’t value their lives much or have more stubborn pride than I do, but if it comes down to letting someone fuck me or getting myself killed, I’m going to let someone fuck me 10 out of 10 times.”

I grimace, even though I can’t fault her for that. “I feel bad about that now. I thought you were—I like you too much to have started things off that way.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she assures me kindly, draping her arm around my waist again. “Consider yourself off the hook.”

“You didn’t deserve to be treated that way,” I insist.

Shrugging, she says, “I did something really bad and you were trying to protect someone you love. I understand why you were angry.”

“That doesn’t justify what I did,” I say, needing to know she gets it.

“Why do we have to talk about it?” she asks, peering up at me. “It feels like circumstances have changed, right? So, we can pivot and move on.”

“Because I need to know you’re not just lying in my bed right now because you’re easy to take advantage of,” I blurt.

Her brow furrows and she scowls up at me. “Easy to take advantage of?” she questions slowly, an edge to her tone.

“Were you in love with Theo?” I ask her.

Her brow furrows even more and she asks a little defensively, “What does that have to do with this?”

“Just answer the question.”

She frowns at me and starts to pull away. “No, I wasn’t in love with Theo.”

“Then why did you have sex with him?”

Moving all the way to her side of the bed so she’s not touching me, she flings back, “Have you been in love with every woman you’ve ever had sex with?”

“Well, no.”

“Then why should I have to be?” she demands, clearly offended. “What kind of fucked-up double standard is that?”

“That’s not what I meant,” I say, scooting closer to her side since she left mine. “I’m just trying to understand why and how it happened. Neither of you have given me a very clear picture. He says it just happened and you say you weren’t in love with him, but Theo wasn’t just some random man you met. I might not have been in love with every woman I’ve had sex with, but none of them were married, either. Obviously, that changes things. It wasn’t a casual, easy hook-up. It carried a lot of risk for a lot of people, and I want to know what made you take a risk like that if it wasn’t love. You’re not a selfish or vicious person. Now that I’ve met you, I can’t see you being thoughtless enough to do something like this without realizing all the people it could hurt, and I can’t see you not caring about that. It doesn’t make sense that you’d do something like that without… some kind of reason. What is it? Fill in the blank for me, help me understand.”

I can see there’s something on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn’t share it. She sits up in the bed, bringing her knees close to her chest and wrapping her arms around them protectively, but she doesn’t say a word.

“I won’t get mad,” I offer since she knows this is a sore subject for me. “I know someone I love is involved, but I’m not listening to react for Bri. I’m listening to understand you, and I promise I won’t get mad at you for telling me the truth.”

“Yes, you will. You may think that now, but once I tell you, you won’t like it.”

“I just want to understand your side, that’s all. I know there are three sides to every story. I have pieces of his, now give me some of yours.”

“I like to feel needed,” she states, quickly looking over at me to gauge my reaction. “You won’t like hearing this because he’s married to your sister, but there’s something he’s not getting at home. I’m not blaming Bri or saying he was right to search for it anywhere else, and I’m certainly not saying it made it all right for me to sleep with him. I’m not justifying anything that happened, I’m just explaining.”

Since she’s already so defensive, I nod patiently to let her know I understand.

“To be perfectly honest, now that I know what an asshole he is, I don’t even care if he’s not happy, but… you asked, and the reason is, he’s not happy, and I felt like I made him happy for just a little bit. I thought if no one ever had to find out, maybe it couldn’t hurt anyone. You can think it’s stupid or thoughtless all you want, but I truly never thought Bri would find out. I never wanted to hurt her. I wasn’t okay with the idea of hurting her, and I just thought it could be a secret. I didn’t even think it would happen again after that first time, but then… I don’t know, once that floodgate was open he seemed to think he could dip back into it whenever he wanted. It wasn’t my intention and I knew the potential consequences got worse each time after, but I didn’t know what to do. Theo was older and more mature than me, or so I thought. It was his family on the line, so I figured he must have it under control if he kept doing it. Now I think maybe I gave him too much credit, but I didn’t know what he was really like back then.” Shrugging, she says, “Anyway, you asked why, and that’s why. I’m sorry I don’t have a better reason for you, but there isn’t a good one. Maybe being in love with him would’ve been a better one, but I never was. I liked him, I was attracted to him, sure, but not in love.”

I’m not trying to bury her under guilt. I don’t expect her to make perfect decisions at her age—God knows I didn’t—but I also want to make sure she’s learning from this mistake. At the risk of really pissing her off, I ask, “How do you think you’d feel if your husband cheated on you?”

“I’m sure I’d be devastated,” she answers, looking over at me. “But Theo didn’t cheat on her because of me. Bri got cheated on because she’s married to a shitty man with no loyalty to anyone but himself. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else. I did not tempt that man to stray—he practically threw himself at me.”

Well, I don’t disagree with any of that. My sister is married to a weak, shitty man, and I wish like hell she would’ve listened to me when I told her I had a bad feeling about him before she made any vows.

“Would you cheat on your husband if you felt like something was missing from your relationship?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“No, of course not,” she answers, shaking her head. “I’d probably just tell him what’s missing and we’d try to find it together—but I’d also never marry anyone I didn’t respect and have an open, safe connection with. I don’t think Bri and Theo have any of that. I don’t think he’s comfortable telling her what he’s feeling, and I’m not sure Theo actually has respect for anyone, now that I’ve seen different sides of him. I think Theo might just be a spoiled child, and Bri’d be better off if he got run over by a freight train.”

That last remark surprises a laugh out of me. Alyssa looks over at me, and since I’m laughing and not mad, she gives up her defensive position, scooting back down on the bed and climbing under the thin cover of the bed sheet with me.

“What? She would,” she says, smiling faintly.

“I agree. The life insurance benefits would be worth a hell of a lot more than he is.”

Alyssa snuggles up against me, draping her arm across my abdomen. “Then Bri could move on and marry a better man, someone more like you—but, you know, not her brother.”

“Bri’s never been attracted to the good guys, unfortunately. When we were younger, I figured she’d grow out of her bad taste, but then she married that piece of shit.”

“In her defense, there are a lot of pieces of shit out there, and it’s not always easy to tell that’s what they are right away. It’s much harder to find anyone worthwhile. I’ve seen that from observing my mom and my sister over the years. It’s why I’m single a lot. I don’t want to date crappy guys just to pass the time. I’d rather wait for a good one.”

“I’m sure you’ll find one,” I tell her. “You can’t have any lack of opportunities, looking the way you do.”

Shrugging one shoulder, she says soberly, “It’ll be harder now. My sister’s prettier than me, and she can’t find a good man. A lot of men don’t want to date a single mom, and a lot of the ones who do think the woman will be desperate and they can get away with anything. It’s gross.”

“That is gross,” I agree, frowning. “I can’t imagine a man thinking that. Motherhood isn’t a ding against someone.”

Smiling up at me with something like affection on her face, she tells me, “I think you might be a different breed. The women of the world don’t even know men like you exist.”

“Probably my own fault,” I say, lightly. “I’m too busy futzing around my own property to go meet any of ’em.”

Alyssa giggles at me and fills me up with a sense of satisfaction. Closing her eyes, her face lit with pleasure, she hugs me tight. “You’re a hidden gem.”

I shake my head, looking over at her fondly. “You’re awfully strange. Not many women would describe a man that way after meeting him the way you met me yesterday.”

Shrugging, she says, “It takes a lot to get my attention. Your way certainly worked.”

“And you do have a propensity toward shitty taste in men,” I point out, giving her that. “I certainly came off like one.”

“Then you shifted into an actual good guy. You tricked me into noticing you. Well played, mister.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a good guy, but I’m damn sure not like Theo.”

“I bet you’d never cheat on your wife in a million years,” she tells me with unreasonable confidence in my sense of loyalty.

“Of course I wouldn’t. What’s the point of marrying a woman just to hurt her like that? Doesn’t make sense to me.”

“You’re not selfish.” She hugs me tighter. “It only makes sense to people who think more about themselves than others, and that’s not you.”

I sigh with something like contentment. “I like you.”

She opens her eyes to look up at me again. “I like you, too.”

“I’m sorry if I keep trying to father you. I don’t mean to be overbearing, I just worry about you.”

Grinning mischievously, she says, “Well, you are old enough to be my father.”

I squeeze her in the side. “Hey, you said I wasn’t old.”

“Just experienced,” she agrees, rising up to kiss me on the cheek before settling back in against me. “I’m only teasing you. I don’t care that you’re older than me. I don’t mind when you try to mentor me, either,” she adds. “Given the position I’m in right now, it’s clear I could probably stand to have a good influence around.”

“Ha, good influence,” I say, smiling wryly. “You’re desperately in need of some guidance, little girl.”

“I guess you better guide me, then,” she teases. “Teach me to be more like Brant.”

“Nah, you don’t need to be more like me,” I tell her. “You’re already a pretty good girl, just need a bit more fine-tuning. Step one: no more sex with married men unless they’re married to you.”

“That seems like a good rule. I think I can manage.”

“Don’t have sex with a man unless you want to, either,” I add, cocking an eyebrow at her. “That one doesn’t have anything to do with being a good person, just a good standard practice.”

“Unless there’s a scarier threat involved, sure,” she amends. “I’ve gotta be honest, though, that’s not always as simple as it sounds.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes guys are really pushy,” she explains. “I didn’t really want to do anything sexual with the first guy I gave a blow job to, either. I kept telling him to knock it off but he wouldn’t listen to me, and I was worried he was going to rape me. Again, I’m always going to lessen the damage to myself if I can. If I can scrape by with just a blow job instead of having some guy make me have sex, or if I can have sex instead of getting killed… I’m going to do those things to avoid the worse alternatives. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Say what now?” I demand, scowling at her. “What’s this kid’s name? The little fuck who tried to force you?”

Alyssa shakes her head. “I’m not telling you his name. It doesn’t matter. Most guys don’t care if you wanna do it or not. They think if they pressure you enough and don’t take no for an answer, eventually you’ll give in, and it’s extremely unpleasant, so sometimes they’re right.”

I don’t know how to argue her point considering what I did to her just last night. “Alyssa, ‘most’ guys aren’t like that. That’s not the norm.”

“And you know that from all the guys you’ve gone out with?” she demands, cocking an eyebrow. “Trust me, I’ve had to deal with slimy, asshole guys all my life. It’s most of them.”

“It’s not,” I argue, hating that she believes that. “You’ve grown up and been socialized in a cesspool, sweetheart. That’s not normal behavior.”

Either not believing me or not all that concerned, Alyssa shrugs off my words. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”

“I can’t believe your first sexual experience wasn’t consensual, either. Shit. Have you ever had sex you actually wanted?”

Flashing me a little smile, she says, “Sure, I have—tonight.”

That’s fucking tragic. “This is the closest you’ve come to healthiness? Fucking the man who thought about killing you a night prior?”

Her smile droops hearing her reality summed up like that, and I hate how powerless it makes me feel. I wish I could walk back through her past with her, protecting her when she needed it, setting her right when she began to believe all the wrong things.

Since there was no one around to protect her when she needed it or teach her any of the things she needed to know, she grew up to be the girl who means it when she tells me, “Doesn’t sound so crazy that I want to raise my baby on my own now, huh? Single life is better. Guys are mostly jerks.”

She’s certainly encountered her share of jerks. It’s not lost on me that me and my goddamn brother-in-law account for two of ’em. I can’t do much about us, so I focus on the one I can do something about.

“You’re gonna tell me the name of that kid who made you blow him so I can pay him a visit. I want to have a talk with him about boundaries.”

“I’m not giving you his name,” she replies, adamant. “You can keep asking, but my answer won’t change.”

“Don’t protect some asshole who hurt you, Alyssa.”

“I’m not protecting him—I’m protecting you,” she informs me. “You’re protective and it’s sweet, but his uncle’s a lawyer, so you can’t show up in his room with a gun and yell at him like you did me. Obviously there’s no one around to protect me, but that’s not the case for him. He made sure to tell me that before I left that night, in case I had any ideas about saying anything bad about him.”

“He threatened you?”

Forget having a talk with the bastard; I’ve got 40 acres of property I can bury him under.

“Let’s not talk about this,” she says, trying her best to steer me away. She offers me a little smile, trying to keep the peace. Her hand absently caresses my side and she squeezes me a little, trying to placate me and reassure me that everything is okay. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m fine, it’s over, and I don’t want you to get involved. It’s not your problem, it’s no one’s problem… let’s just go to sleep.”

I can’t stand the casual way she speaks about people mistreating her. Maybe I just can’t understand what it’s like to be so powerless that people could treat me that way and know they can get away with it.

I regret saying she was easy to take advantage of now. Makes it sound like it’s her fault, and it’s not her fault rotten people keep finding her. It’s not her fault she’s never had anyone around to tell her she deserves better.

Maybe that’s why she fell into my path. Maybe it’s my job to show her how a man treats a woman so she stops accepting scraps from worthless little boys.