Spiral of Bliss 03 Awaken (30 page)

“I don’t need your advice,” Maggie retorts. “I’ve never had a choice about what to do.”

“Of course you have a choice,” I say. “No one knows better than I do that you have a choice.”

I feel Crystal’s sudden tension. I don’t look at her.

“You can stay,” I tell Maggie, “and be controlled by your father. Or you can leave and start your own life. A new life.”

Just like I did.

“Yeah, right.” Maggie’s expression hardens, as if my words are ricocheting off her. “Is that what your husband is trying to do with his stupid resignation? You think that will get him off the hook?”

She backs toward the street, her eyes flashing from Crystal to me.

“My father will destroy you, Mrs. West, if you or your husband threaten me again,” she snaps. “And you’d damn well better hope he doesn’t find out about this.”

She turns and stalks away. A hush falls in the air.

“You don’t reason with a girl like that,” Crystal says. “She’ll make the same mistakes until she realizes she’s fucking up her own life.”

My stomach twists. “Why did you tell her all that?”

“Because I know what it’s like to be used, and I learned my lesson.” Crystal turns to face me, still rigid with anger. “But you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”

I stare at her, my heart racing.

“Oh, I’ve learned lessons, Crystal. Hard ones.”

“Sure. How
not
to be like your mother.”

The years suddenly flash in my mind like a filmstrip. Liv the good girl, the straight-A student, the mouse who barely dated, who kept her head down and did what she was told, who didn’t cause trouble, who was still a virgin at twenty-four. The girl who struggled for so long just to feel normal.

No. Nothing like Crystal Winter at all.

“I get it.” I have to swallow hard past the constriction in my throat. “I’ve been humiliated too. I made bad choices that backlashed in ways that almost ruined me. I had to drop out of Fieldbrook because of what happened to me. I broke right in half. And it took me a while, but I finally learned there’s no limit to the number of times you can start again.”

“Oh, please.” Crystal turns away from me and starts walking.

“There’s not even a limit for you, Crystal,” I call after her, but she doesn’t break her stride, and I don’t even know if she heard me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Dean

ve taken down all the boards covering the windows on the first floor of the house. The glass is cracked and filthy, but some sunlight and air now circulate around the rooms. Most of the furniture deserves a second look, so I’ve moved it all into the front room for later study.

I’m fixing the hinges on the front door when a car pulls up. I stop and approach, extending my hand as Max Lyons gets out of the driver’s seat.

“Thanks for stopping by,” I tell him as we shake hands. “I wanted your opinion on the building. The Historical Society is trying to have it declared a historical site, but so far they haven’t had much luck.”

“Allie told me,” Max says. “She said Liv was working on a campaign to save the house.”

“Unfortunately, it sounds like that will take more money and resources than the Society has.”

“Too bad.” Max looks up at the house. “I did a paper on this place when I was a grad student. Have a soft spot for it.”

“Is it salvageable?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “The Historical Society will have to do a structural analysis. It’ll take a lot of money to restore it.”

We walk around the building. Max talks about the masonry and weathering, the roof pitch, the slate shingles, the original architecture compared to later remodeling.

“Do you want me to come back and write up a report?” he asks as we return to his car. “I know a structural engineer who can do the analysis, if needed.”

“That would be great, thanks. I’m here…”
Every day now
“…a lot, so have them call my cell.”

He programs my number into his phone just as another car rumbles up the drive, tires digging into the dirt road.

Shit.

Kelsey comes to an abrupt halt, getting out of the car and slamming the door. Max takes a step backward. Kelsey stalks toward me, her eyes flashing behind her glasses.

I hold up my hands in defense. “You told me you were coming back on Thursday. I was going to pick you up at the airport.”

“I left the conference early to deal with a department screw-up,” she snaps. “I got a ride back with a colleague. What the fuck, Dean?”

“I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Well, I found out from the university paper.” Kelsey’s narrow gaze slants to Max. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting in the way, apparently,” Max replies.

“Then you should leave,” Kelsey says tartly.

Max gives me a look that says,
Good luck with this one, buddy.
Then he gets in his car and maneuvers back down the driveway.

“Kelsey, I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. I had a whole speech planned for when I picked you up at the airport.”

She crosses her arms, vibrating with anger. “So tell me now.”

“I had to resign because the Office of Judicial Affairs was investigating a sexual harassment charge against me.”

She blinks. “That’s a joke, right?”

I shake my head.

Her face drains of color. “You’re going to have to explain this in great detail.”

We sit down on one of the porch steps, and I tell her the whole story, starting with my rejection of Maggie Hamilton’s thesis proposal.

“I couldn’t tell you,” I say. “The OJA kept it confidential, and we weren’t supposed to talk to anyone about it.”

“Dean, this is totally fucked-up. You can’t resign because some little bitch lied about you.”

“I already did,” I tell her. “And it wasn’t just because of the lie. Edward Hamilton was going after Liv. I’d…”

There’s no telling what I’d do. And Kelsey knows it.

She shakes her head. “Well, shit.”

“Yeah.”

“How’s Liv?”

“Upset, but… she gets it. Hardest part was telling her and my students.”

We sit in silence for a while. A few birds chirp in the trees. Finally Kelsey squeezes my arm and shoves off the step.

“Racquetball tomorrow afternoon?” she asks. “I guess you have plenty of time on your hands now.”

I almost smile. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay.” She takes a few steps before turning back to face me. “Hey, it’s horrible. I’m sorry. I wish there was… well, it bites the big one.”

“Yes, it does. But…” I rest my elbows on my knees and look past her to the view of downtown, the clear blue lake. “It’s kind of okay, Kels, you know? Like I did the right thing. I protected Liv. My reputation is intact. I’ll finish my work on the dig. I can still do independent study work, write my book. I’ll get another job one day.”

“But you still hate that you were forced into it.”

“I hate that it’s affecting my students, but it would have been worse if they’d had to deal with the investigation and been asked if I harassed them. My colleagues too. My whole reputation, my life, would have been shot to hell if this all went public, resignation or not. And then if Liv… well.”

I stare at the lake. “I’d do anything for her, Kelsey. Anything. It’s insane how much I love her. And losing my job is nothing compared to… to
her.
”

“I know. She feels the same way about you.” Kelsey studies me for a minute. “Hey, remember when I kissed you last fall?”

“How can I forget?” I mutter. “It’s like a bad horror movie.
The Attack of the Venomous Pit Viper.
”

A grin cracks her face. “You know, when I told Liv about it, she laughed.”

“Of course she did. It was so bad it was funny.”

“My point,” Kelsey continues dryly, “is that she didn’t freak out like most women would have. It wouldn’t have occurred to her to be threatened by that. Even though she had a shitty time as a kid, and her mother is a head case, Liv just… she knows you. She knows me. It’s kind of amazing that she has this… I don’t know… total
trust
in the people she loves.”

“Yeah. It is kind of amazing.”

“I’ve always wished I was a little more like her.” Kelsey backs up a few steps. “But don’t tell her I said that. She’d start crying.”

“She wouldn’t… well, okay. She probably would.”

Kelsey grins and gets into her car.

After she’s gone, I work for another hour before heading home. Liv is making teriyaki chicken for dinner, and the sight of her bustling around our little kitchen is a reminder that everything is still the way it’s supposed to be.

Over dinner, she tells me about the encounter she and Crystal had with Maggie Hamilton. I’m less concerned about Maggie than I am about Edward Hamilton, though I’m not surprised Louise Butler found a way to threaten Maggie.

“I guess Maggie learned a tough lesson,” Liv says.

“Ironic that she might’ve learned it from your mother.”

Liv shakes her head, a shadow passing across her face. “My mother did graduate from the school of hard knocks.”

“Hey.” I rub my hand down her back. “You’ve handled this whole situation with your mother beautifully.”

Liv arches an eyebrow at me in amusement. “Is that your way of admitting you were wrong?”

“I’d never admit such a thing.”

She leans over to kiss my chin. “Well, you are my Mr. Right.”

After dinner, Liv settles in to watch TV, and I go into my office to work. Even having handed in my resignation, I’m still a scholar with papers to review and edit. Life changes, but history doesn’t.

I study an article about Chaucer and the concept of fate as a wheel of fortune. The wheel appears throughout medieval literature and art, often in stained-glass windows and illuminated manuscripts. The wheel spins you into either luck or misfortune, all set beforehand.

And though I never believed in love as a predetermined fate, even I had to admit it was a stroke of luck when, five years ago, I happened to walk into the coffeehouse where Olivia R. Winter worked.

After the day we’d met at the registrar’s office, I thought I’d never see her again.

And when I did, I knew I wouldn’t let her go. Fate, luck, or nothing.

Liv has always been the one part of my life I got right. Everything fit with her, like sliding a button into a buttonhole. I knew I wanted her. Knew I’d wait for her as long as she needed me to. I knew it would be so easy to love her.

And even now, I have to wonder if fate, the medieval
rota fortunae,
was somehow involved.

I shut down my computer and put my books away. It’s almost midnight. The noise of a comedy program comes from the TV. I push away from my desk and go into the living room.

All thoughts of medieval literature disappear at the sight of my pretty wife. Liv is curled up on the sofa, her hands tucked beneath her head. Her curved body moves with the rhythm of sleep. Her shirt has ridden up to expose the pale expanse of her stomach.

I turn off the TV, then pause to brush a few strands of hair away from Liv’s forehead. On our second date, I’d been unable to stop myself from tugging her hair out of its ponytail so I could finally see it tumble over her shoulders. I wanted to touch her hair so badly my fingers hurt.

Now I get to touch it whenever I want, which is often. I slide my fingers through the thick strands, easing them away from her neck. She shifts. I realize she’s not wearing a bra beneath her T-shirt. I move a hand down to her breast. She sighs and arches into my hand, her taut nipple poking against my palm. My prick twitches. Liv’s tongue darts out to lick her lips. She shifts again, rubbing her legs together.

Ah, Christ. Liv doesn’t have discreet sex dreams. She gets into them, twisting and writhing and letting out little moans that make me hard in an instant. She fidgets again, slipping one hand between her legs. I tweak her nipple, then skim my fingers into the warm crevice beneath her breast. She’s sweating a little, strands of hair sticking to her neck, her skin flushed pink.

I consider waking her up, telling her to push her gorgeous breasts together so I can press my cock between them because, fuck, I’m starting to hurt. I yank on the button-fly of my jeans to relieve some of the pressure.

At that instant, Liv opens her eyes. She jerks her gaze up to my bulging crotch. Then she sucks in a breath and looks at me. Her brown eyes are glazed with sleep and arousal. I pull on the remaining buttons and shove my jeans and boxers down.

“Oh, God, Dean.” Liv groans and reaches for my erection. “Give it to me.”

I grasp a fistful of her hair and nudge my cock past her parted lips. Hot tension floods me the instant her beautiful mouth closes around me. Her tongue swirls and licks in exactly the right way, her hand pumping up and down the shaft. The pressure starts to build hard and fast, and I have to pull away before I can’t control it any longer.

I grab her T-shirt and yank it over her head. Her breasts bounce with the movement, the hard-tipped globes making my mouth water. She rubs her hands over them, her slender fingers twisting her nipples, then down to slither out of her sweatpants.

When she’s naked and flushed all over, lust bolts through me at the sight of her rounded curves and damp skin. I push a hand between her thighs and almost come. She’s so hot, so wet. I slide a finger into her and work it back and forth.

“Dean.” Before I’ve thrust more than three times, she comes, her legs clamping around me, her fingers twisting into my shirt. “I can’t get enough… please…”