Yours to Keep by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Twenty

Vance

One of thebest things in life is to have Darren’s lips wrapped around my cock. Fucking might be the best, but I wouldn’t know because we haven’t had the time to do more. I only have so much time for him. Between work and getting the house ready for Beacon, who will be back soon, I can’t be with him for long periods.

Actually, I don’t have much time for anything. One thing I can’t skip is therapy. Since the doctor has been traveling, we’ve been FaceTiming for the past couple of weeks. When I receive a message that he’s finally home, I sigh with relief. I’m not a fan of video calls.

After my morning routine—which includes visiting Dare—I arrive at the doc’s house before ten with a coffee for him and a box of pastries to share.

When he opens the door, he stares at the white and lilac box. “The doctor just told me to cut the carbs, and you’re bringing me my poison.”

“Sorry?”

“Don’t be, just don’t tell my children,” he says, taking the box away from me.

Do his children live here? I should look into him, not that I care. I don’t even understand why I want to know more about him. I usually don’t care about the lives of other people. I guess it’s fascinating to learn that he went from just being a weird therapist to having a business and children.

“When you say children, it sounds like they are seven and five years old.”

He grins. “It feels like they’re still young, but as I told you—”

“The youngest is twenty-seven.”

He nods.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back,” I tell the good doc as I enter his house and set the coffee on the table. “So, there’s more to you than not knowing how to hammer a nail and listening to people’s problems, huh? You’re a business guy.”

“I like to think that I help others find themselves, not just listen to them,” he corrects me. “I might not be good with construction tools, but mind tools are my passion.”

“So, you went from I want to be a therapist to I have to run a company to…” I trail my voice, figuring out how a person goes from something wholesome to something so pragmatic.

Dr. Sanders shakes his head. “You’re a curious person. You collect knowledge, don’t you?”

“I like to do that.” I frown, staring at him because what he just said sounds awfully familiar. Like something someone mentioned before.

He gives me a peculiar look. “Yes?”

I shake my head because it’s not important. Is it?

Suddenly, I’m speaking, “Remember how I told you that every summer we’d come to Baker’s Creek to visit our father for a week?”

“Go on,” he says.

“Well, there was this one time when my brothers were outside playing. I was eight, maybe? I chose to go to the library instead.” I pause, remembering how the mansion used to have a library. Now it’s the media room. I liked the library so much. It might have been my favorite place in the house. My mother’s apartment and my grandfather’s house didn’t have a room that had floor-to-ceiling shelves with lots of books in it. They didn’t have encyclopedias. There were nights after we went to bed when I’d head downstairs and go through the books, choosing one of them to read.

“Vance, are you still with me?”

I nod. “That day, when I stayed in the library,” I continue. “Reading. My father was there too, working. There’s a big oak desk. I remember him giving me a book, Atlas of The World. Then he said, ‘you like to collect knowledge, just like Hayes. I hope you never lose that.’”

That’s the first time I was proud that someone compared me to my brothers because Hayes was the smart one. Not that the rest aren’t, but back then, they only praised him for being smart. I understand why we resented each other, though, because we never got praises, and we only got to be told that the other was better.

“Did you lose it?”

I shake my head. To this day, I still like to learn and gather information. Hayes and I are just different because our interests are completely opposite. He’s obsessed with the stars and science. I care a lot more about the world. Not that I don’t learn or care about science. Unlike Hayes, I just don’t spit out information like a walking, talking, annoying search engine.

“No. But maybe if I hadn’t been raised to follow my grandfather’s career, I could’ve done something different. Don’t get me wrong, I liked defending my country, but what am I supposed to do now?”

“Anything you want,” he says. “You’re in your early thirties. You have all the time in the world to explore new careers.”

“In some ways, you make me feel like a child who needs a parent to hold his hand. You’re trying to convince me that it’s okay to want different things. I still want to work for The Organization, but what if I can do more? Beacon works for them, and he’s also a musician.”

Suddenly, I see them, the possibilities. It’s been so long since I haven’t seen beyond the basics. It’s like with my emotions. I wasn’t allowed to think beyond what my grandfather wanted.

“What were you going to major in when you went to West Point?”

I glance at him, confused. I don’t think I ever told him about college, but then I remembered that The Organization did a background check on me. He has my file.

“Defense and strategic studies,” I answer. “It seemed like the one major that would provide me with the right tools to become an officer.”

“Yet you dropped out after a year,” he says. “Why did you do it? Why enlist in the Army?”

“I wanted to be part of the Special Forces teams. A Ranger, a SEAL, a…In my mind, if I was going to do it, I had to be the best.”

He nods.

Then I ask a question of my own. “Why did you choose business over being a therapist?”

“I was going to be a social worker,” he says.

That’s different from what I thought he’d say. I could see him being a shrink but not a social worker. “Why?”

“Do you know how many children are being abused by their parents? The statistics are lower than the reality. Take a town like Happy Springs or Baker’s Creek, where everyone knows everybody’s business. Still, they don’t know what happens to the small children, to the older teenagers who are different and have to hide or they’re beaten by their drunk parents. There’s a lot of emotional and physical abuse happening.”

“What made you change your mind?”

He lets out a long exhale. “My parents worked at the factory. They didn’t have much. I went to college on a scholarship. We…there was a plan where we’d start a business. Once it took off, I’d go back to school, but things didn’t work out. Everything imploded, and I was left with the blueprints of a future that was never going to happen.”

“Yet you continue to work on that business, which I assume was successful?”

He smiles with satisfaction.

“Did you finish the plan? Or did you scratch it and start a new one?”

“That’s a complicated question. I took the blueprints, did the basics, but changed a few things too. Ten years ago, I found someone who could take over the business. After delegating the company, I searched for a new passion. And here we are.”

“What happened to the kids?”

“Which kids?”

“You mentioned there were abused kids here. Or were you talking about yourself?”

“My parents are good people. The best parents a guy could ask for,” he says. “Some of my friends…they didn’t have it as good as I did. Some escaped, some became just like their parents. Over the years, I learned that you can’t save everyone. I’m sure you’ve learned that lesson too.”

“It is hard.” I bob my head a couple of times, opening the pastry box and grabbing a peach muffin. “I lost several men while serving. I almost lost Beacon.”

“None of those times was your fault,” he assures me.

After popping a piece of muffin in my mouth, chewing it and swallowing it along with the guilt, I say, “I know, but it’s still hard to accept it. My brother is going to walk, but I still have nightmares where he dies.”

He didn’t die, and he’ll be here, but will he ever be the same person? What if he never forgives me? What if he hates me for the rest of my life. I hate myself so much.

“Vance.” The doctor repeats my name several times until I look up at him. “Are you with me?”

“Yes. It’s just…hard to accept that he’s the one hurt and not me. I deserved it, not him.”

“What would he tell you if he heard you speak like that?”

I try to imagine Beacon, and the only thing I can think is, “He would say, ‘Don’t be fucking stupid. If you had tried, they’d have beat the fuck out of you.’”

“That’s bold.”

“He’s something. I’m sure if you ever meet him, you’ll understand.”

“I’m looking forward to it. How are things with your non-boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s…”

“You’re still uncomfortable around him,” he states. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head, but my mouth just vomits words. “I act like an idiot around him. I know the rules to having lovers, but with him, I can’t help myself. After my run, I buy him pastries. Since he jogs around our property, sometimes I join him. Everything I do are big no-nos.”

“You feel foolish because you care?”

I nod. “I’m always giving my brothers a hard time because they go above and beyond for their women. Look at me.” I tap my chest a couple of times and insist, “No. Really, look at me. I’m behaving just like them, and he’s not even my man.”

“You’re angry because you’re feeling.”

Duh, does he have to ask? “Yeah.”

I think for a long moment and then say, “And also because we haven’t had sex. We just have the sporadic blow job.”

He scratches his eyebrow and shakes his head. “I don’t need that information.”

“Why, Doc? I thought you said I should share everything I believe is important.”

“I guess you’re right.” He sighs. “So why haven’t you…”

It’s amusing that he’s uncomfortable, so I do what Beacon would do and say, “Fucked, screwed, humped, bonked, shagged, have intercourse?”

He waves his hand. “Yes, all those.”

I shrug a shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to fuck his ass because I’m sure I’ll enjoy it more than when I fuck his mouth.”

He coughs. I notice he’s nervous. I rise from my seat, head to the cupboard, grab a glass, and pour some water from the faucet. Poor man, it’s like he’s having his first sex-ed lesson. Prudish man, I bet he’s only had missionary style with his wife.

“Can I continue?” I ask after he finishes all the water.

“Yes, go ahead.”

“I don’t want to be the guy who just fucks and leaves, but I can’t stay either because of all the fucking stipulations my father set up when he lost his fucking mind.”

“You two might have to compromise. What if he stays at your house?”

“My brothers will find out.”

“They don’t know?”

I shake my head. “No. Only Hayes and Henry. I’m trying to keep it quiet for as long as we can, leaving enough breadcrumbs, so when or if his mother drops by, people say, ‘oh, I knew, I just didn’t want to say anything.’ They don’t like to look like idiots.”

“That’s smart. Why don’t you figure out a way in which you can make your brothers think that you’re home, but you’re with him?”

“I’m not a teenager anymore, and what if someone catches me? If this gets to the ears of Jerome Parrish, he’ll destroy the entire town. I’ll be responsible for ruining lives because I’m horny.”

“I like that you’re loyal. You’re right, we don’t want this town to fall apart because some demented man thought he could”—He stops, takes a deep breath—“Why don’t you try it the other way around? You make him go into your house without anyone noticing? What’s the worst that can happen?”

“You sound like a guy who used to do that as a teenager.”

He grins, and there’s a slight nostalgia in his eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

But I do want to know. The alarm buzzes. “Well, your time is up. Why don’t we try this again Friday? We can start planting some seeds in the garden beds.”

“You should call your children so they can do that.”

He shakes his head. “They are busy with their lives, and I need to concentrate on other projects. For now, you’ll have to do it.”

I chuckle at his nonsense and salute him. “See you around, Doc.”