Breaking Out
She moaned and ground her body into his.
His teeth scraped her shoulder, and the fingers of his right hand found their way up the back of her neck, latching into the hair at her throat. Her head was jerked back at the same time his fingers advanced on her, bringing an onslaught of pleasure to her clitoris as he drove into her.
She cried out as she came, visions of glass shattering around them filling her fanciful mind, water washing them away on a tide of pleasure. His teeth bit into her shoulder, pulling her skin tight between his lips, marking her.
His release flooded her like a warm caress. Her body pulsed with his, milking every bit of his pleasure, swirling their beating bodies into a riptide of need that followed a continuum of throbbing ripples as their climaxes doubled and folded into one.
His chest pressed into her back as his breath huffed against her neck, ruffling tiny wisps of her now ruined hair. Her forehead rested on the misty glass, searching for coolness.
“I love you,” he whispered with more affection than she could measure. “Don’t ever leave me, Evelyn. Ever.”
She woke up on a choking gasp and sat bolt upright. The living room was black as pitch. She was panting and covered in a cold sweat. Scrambling for the lamp, she fumbled with the switch. Her eyes fluttered and adjusted to the sudden brightness.
She caught her breath and waited to find her equilibrium. Her cheeks heated as she quickly stared at the doorway to the hall, checking that the bedroom was dark, she slid a hand between her legs. She’d come in her sleep.
A wash of humiliation and guilt flooded her. That was a rule. She was not allowed to make herself come.
Those rules don’t apply anymore, stupid. He left you.
She frowned and hid her hand behind her back. Actually, it was him who had made her climax, just not in real life. She shook her head. She needed to stop this. She needed to get past all of this, past him.
Sighing, she fell back onto the couch. God, this sofa is uncomfortable. Shifting irritably beneath the covers she tried to find sleep again, but it was elusive. Her mind was now stuck on Lucian, on the conversations they’d had in the past, the moments that made her laugh, the things he had taught her.
He defined so much of who she was. She’d never known someone who played such a fundamental part in her identity.
She knew it was best to get over him, but her conscience was stubbornly holding on to him. It was a self-imposed torture. But in truth, the real torture would be letting him go. Moving on without Lucian meant saying good-bye. Pain had her curling into her pillow. Why did she have to love him so much?
She shut off the light and cried silently in the dark. It was time to let the past go and move on. She’d never get anywhere in life if she allowed a ghost of her past to have such a hold on her.
Life was like the game of chess, he’d taught her. “Social intercourse,” he called it. Regular men were the pawns of the visionaries. Rooks were the voyeurs, the onlookers watching from their towers and announcing events to come. The knights were clever and alert, seemingly sleeping beasts with one eye open.
And then there was the all-powerful king, tucked safely within his court. Everyone vied to be near him, but only the truly deserving made it to his side. He needed his queen to stoically stand by his side and protect him. According to Lucian, that was her greatest charge in life. However, the queen was never tethered. She had the freedom to go if she pleased and very little could truly trap her.
She thought she was a queen, but perhaps she had only ever been a pawn.
As Scout fell back asleep, her last thought rang like an epiphany clamoring through the belfry of her mind. In life, everyone who encroached on the king got fucked—social intercourse indeed.
Chapter 28
A New Leaf
Sunday was a mix of diversions. Scout woke up feeling, for the first time in weeks, refreshed. No longer would she be the wallowing sad case she’d allowed herself to become. No. She was starting a new chapter in her life. It was a new day and she had a new job and she decided it was time to break out of this funk and mold the new her.
She spent the morning filling out paperwork with Parker. Once everything was completed, she packed her bag and left to deliver her papers to Clemons.
Mr. Gerhard was in his cluttered office when she arrived and, again, he gave her the creeps. He seemed nice enough, but something was off. She was grateful she’d be working the registers on the other side of the store, far away from his office.
After Clemons, she visited a thrift store several blocks away and found a pair of gray slacks that fit. Locating the grapefruit pink Clemons dress shirt was another challenge, but she found one at a local uniform shop down town.
She was down to thirty-two dollars in cash. That was the last of her honestly earned money. It was going to be a tight few weeks. She refused to use the card Lucian placed in the envelope.
He broke up with her because she wouldn’t marry him. She didn’t play games and thought he didn’t either. So why had he left her all that money and put some invisible timeline on their “break”?
Deep down, if what Parker suggested was correct, she knew Lucian would never come back for her, not if he was in Paris vacationing with someone else. The thought of being replaced so quickly was unfathomable, but gutted her all the same. Still, it gave her a little more control to imagine him coming for her and her being gone, his guilt money sitting in an account, untouched.
No, she would not take a single cent from that man. The thirty-two dollars would just have to last until her first paycheck, which would come at the end of the month. It would be tight, but she’d starve before she tapped into that account.
Parker offered to spot her. She didn’t want to borrow from him either, but she would. He’d keep track and let her pay him back. Still, she planned on doing everything in her power to not have to resort to borrowing.
It shouldn’t be difficult. She’d lived on much less in the past. They had a pantry full of food. Their rent was paid. She had her uniform for work. And she could walk everywhere she needed to go.
By the time she returned to the apartment on Sunday night, it was dinnertime. Parker was making grilled cheese and tomato soup again.
“Hey, how did it go?”
She plopped her bag on the counter. “Good. I got my uniform and dropped off the paperwork.”
“What time do you have to be in tomorrow?” He slid a crispy sandwich off the pan and onto a plate. She carried it to the table and returned as he served up the next one.
“I’m scheduled for seven to three.”
He paused in ladling out soup. “So early?”
She swapped out the bowls. “Only on Monday, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. Thursdays I’m off and Fridays and Saturdays I work from nine to five.”
He looked disappointed. “You’ll be working every Saturday?”
She poured two glasses of milk and followed him to the table. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”
They walked to the table and settled into their seats. “No, I just figured you’d have off on the weekends. I was looking forward to doing stuff.”
“Oh, well . . . I don’t think I really get a say in my schedule until I’m there for a while.”
She took a nibble of her sandwich and watched as he frowned over his soup. She understood working the weekend was not a favorable shift, but his disappointment surprised her. Why did it matter so much to him?
Lucian used to resent her time working, but they had an entirely different arrangement than she and Parker. Maybe she should say something to Parker about what was happening to them, but she still wasn’t sure if bringing up the sense that they were changing was smart.
She intended to address the awkward turn their relationship had taken, but when she spoke, something totally different came out of her mouth. “What time do you leave for work?”
 
; “I’m usually out of here by seven thirty, back by six.”
That would be almost three hours to herself each day and all of Thursday. She kept her gaze on her food so not to give away her relief. As much as she appreciated Parker letting her move in with him, she still valued time to herself.
As she swirled her crust in her soup, Parker said, “I was thinking tomorrow night we could watch a movie together. They have those Redbox rentals now.”
She smirked at him. “Parker, you don’t have a television.”
He shrugged. “I could get one.”
Her mouth fell open. “Park, you don’t even watch TV. Why would you get one? So you could watch a movie and then use it as a bookcase?” She laughed and he smiled.
“Yeah, I guess that’s dumb. Well, what would you like to do? I know how you are about money so I’m trying to be accommodating, but I think it would do you good to get out, Scout.”
She stilled. “Oh.” Did he mean hang out or go out?
He looked at her. “Scout, if it’s a problem . . . I mean . . . I just want a chance to show you a fun time.”
“I’m not so sure I have fun side, Parker.”
They smiled through an awkward silence. Finally, he said, “Let me take you out, Scout. For once, let me treat you when you aren’t going to keep a mental tally of what I spend.”
“Parker—”
“Please.”
“I don’t want you to throw away your money on me.”
“I don’t care about money. It’s there to be spent. Truth be told, the only reason I have it is to prove to you that I can get it when I need it. It means nothing to me.”
She put down her spoon. “What?”
“Come on, Scout. You know I don’t care about wealth. I could be content with any roof over my head and a good book in my hands.”
Yeah, she knew that. That was why Parker was dangerous. He just didn’t have the natural hunger necessary to make it in this world. She couldn’t figure out what had motivated him this far, but she didn’t believe she was enough to provoke that sort of ambition. The fact that he somehow managed to get a job in the corporate word was still a shock to her.
For some reason his statement bothered her. It implied something she didn’t want to face. Perhaps it was because she knew how much Parker disapproved of the world he was suddenly living in. It was like he was making a barb at her without really saying so. Parker could be passive-aggressive when he wanted to.
“Don’t blame me for you having to work. I never told you to get a job,” she said, taking another bite. Her food was getting cold.
“I know. I wanted a job.”
“Well, then say you wanted a job. Be accountable for your own actions.”
He frowned. “I am accountable.”
Tension zapped up her spine. “Then what the hell did you mean by proving to me you could get it?”
“Nothing. It’s stupid. I just meant that I have money, and you shouldn’t concern yourself with how I spend it. You earn money for what you think you need, and I earn it for what I need. Who cares if they’re different reasons?”
“I only care because you said it like I made you get a job or something.”
He tipped his chin down and gave her an exasperated look.
“What?”
He shook his head. “You. You’re exhausting.”
She drew back. “You’re annoying.”
His lip twitched like he wanted to laugh. His fingers idly dragged his spoon over the remaining soup in his bowl. “You need to learn how to laugh again, Scout. I feel like you’re always so serious now.”
“I know how to laugh. I do it quite freely around funny people. I can’t help it if you aren’t funny.”
His mouth gaped. “Me, not funny? I am highly amusing, I’ll have you know.”
She tightened her mouth, refusing to smile. “Sure, Parker, you’re hilarious—” Her words choked off as cold tomato soup suddenly spattered across her face.
“You have a little something on your cheek,” he said, deadpan.
She dragged the heel of her palm along her jaw, mopping up the mess. “I can’t believe you just did that,” she whispered, reaching for her spoon.
He eased back in his chair, his eyes following her every move as she scraped up a spoonful of soup. Carefully, she raised her spoon and held the tip in a makeshift catapult. “You’re dead,” she warned, and flung it at him.
The moment it spattered across his face, chairs scraped along the floor. She squealed and giggled as he lunged at her. They fell to the floor in a clatter. Parker grabbed hold of her bowl and set it on her head like a drippy hat.
“Parker!”
He tickled her relentlessly. “Say it! Say I’m funny!”
She reached onto her plate and grabbed the other half of her sandwich and smashed it into his cheek, taking special care to shove the greasy parts up his nose. “Never! You’re a dull, dull boy!”
He poked her side and they rolled over the floor. The bowl wobbled off her head and spun across the hardwood. He laughed as she giggled and threw an elbow in his side. Her right eye squeezed shut as tomato soup made its way past her lashes.
Parker tickled her until she was begging for him to stop. “Uncle! Uncle!”
“Say it!” He laughed. Breadcrumbs stuck to his eyebrow.
“Fine!” she cried, out of breath and developing a cramp from laughing so hard. He rose above her, breathing heavy and looked into her eyes expectantly. She relented.
“You’re funny,” she admitted derisively.
He pursed his lips and pinched her hip and pinned her hands above her head with his other hand. Something came alive inside of her, something that reminded her of Lucian and scared the hell out of her.
“Fine! Fine!” In a more believable tone, she said,” You’re funny. You’re one of the funniest people I’ve ever met.” Now let go.
His grin widened and then he slowly lowered his mouth to hers.
Oh no!
She quickly turned her face and he stilled, his lips landing on her cheek. Don’t do this. She made a sound in the back of her throat.
He sighed and pressed his head into her shoulder. “Scout . . .” Her name was a barely audible plea. What did he want from her?
Her breath came fast. His grip slackened, but her arms remained suspended above her head, his body still covering hers.
Was he asking permission? She was suddenly embarrassed, for her or for him she didn’t know. She turned into the floor and scooted out from under him, into a seated position.
His hair was a mess and there were bits of sandwich all over his shoulder. Then he was there, good old Parker. He laughed and the moment was over. She snorted and brushed some of the crumbs away.
“You look like someone hit you in the face with a frying pan,” he said, dragging his finger over her temple. He flashed a tomato-covered finger at her before popping it in his mouth.
Good. Keep it light. Normal. “That’s exactly what a girl wants to hear,” she teased, mopping her sticky hair off her face. “You’re cleaning this up.”
He smiled shyly. “If that’s my penance for getting you to laugh, I’ll take it. I have no regrets.”
That’s not all you tried to get. There was no mistaking what had almost happened there.
She rolled her eyes at him and shook her head, pretending a great deal of lightness she didn’t feel. “I’m going to take a shower and wash this crap out of my hair.”
He caught her hand, looking momentarily unsure. “Are you mad?”
She stilled. He shouldn’t ask questions she didn’t know how to answer. She was confused, but not mad. For a while there she was having fun. She hadn’t even thought about Lucian until he restrained her, which was sort of her goal. She just didn’t understand what she’d done to make him try to kiss her
. She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “Of course I’m not mad.”
He leaned forward and pecked a kiss on her cheek—a completely platonic peck. “Good, because I didn’t want to have to do it again.” His expression said that was a lie.
What was happening? She stood. If she acted unaffected she could pretend it didn’t happen. “Please try to abstain.”
“Will you let me take you out tomorrow night?” he asked, the sudden change of subject surprising her.
Laughing had felt good. It was tempting to see if he could make her forget again. She needed the distraction.
He was right. It was his money to do with what he wanted. Besides, from what she understood, he was making a hell of a lot more money than she was going to be making at Clemons. She just needed to keep herself at a safe distance. “Okay.”
“Great,” he said with a wide smile. “We can celebrate your first day of work.”
Chapter 29
Enough
Working at the grocery story was a cakewalk compared to keeping house at Patras. All Scout had to do was smile and scan items then place them into bags. There were even lulls when she was simply required to stand by her register until the next customer arrived.
The register was a little tricky at first, but she got the hang of it. When she didn’t know how to do something, Nick, the guy working the next register, was more than eager to explain. Nick was nineteen and funny.
Mr. Gerhard made several appearances throughout the day. At one point he stood behind her, uncomfortably close, breathing his spearmint coffee breath over her shoulder as he explained how to refill her receipt roll. She only survived because Nick drew a mustache on his finger and mimicked their manager when he wasn’t looking. It was almost impossible not to laugh.
All in all, she liked her new job. When she finished for the day, she felt a sense of promise. She could do this.
She returned to the apartment hours before Parker would get home. They were going out that night to celebrate and, shockingly, she actually felt like she had something to commemorate. She was moving on.