Page 112 of Petty's Crime

When I go to see my dad after he comes out of recovery, I’m ashamed to think I stopped referring to him as that, even if only in my mind and for a short time. The emotion that flooded through me when I saw him so fragile and pale made me realise while he wasn’t my sperm donor, I couldn’t love him more.

While Mom openly cried, clasping his hand as though needing to assure herself he was alive, and hopefully now, out of danger, I stood back and watched them.

As parents, I had certainly lucked out.

On the second day after his surgery, Dad’s encouraged by the nurses to get out of bed, start moving around and sit in a chair. I see the spark of who he was returning as he gives them shit about their bullying. That is, of course, in between him trying to flirt. His joking around has the effect of drying Mom’s tears and instead, on the many times I see her rolling her eyes, I hear, “Oh,Rufus,” in an exasperated tone on repeat. I smile, knowing things are returning to normal.

On the third day, he comes out of ICU, and I, finally, get Mom to leave the hospital, come back to my house and have a shower and a few hours of decent sleep. It’s then she tentatively broaches the subject of whether I wanted to contact my birth parents, feeling guilty that, by keeping that information from me, I may have missed out on family.

It isn’t a hard call. As Mom and I talk, I discover while I hadn’t been in such a poor state as Thorne, I, too, had been suffering from withdrawals when I came out of the womb. Did I want to see the woman who bore me, only to sell me the moment I was born? Who had no care for my health while she carried me?

No, I have absolutely no desire to see her at all. It had been a tossup whether I’d gotten amazing parents like mine, or abusive ones like Thorne. While I think I’ll always live with some semblance of guilt, I can’t help but be thankful that I got the best part of the deal.

Petty is a regular visitor while my dad is in the hospital, but stays in the background, quietly offering his support. He gives his time equally to Mom and me, and even stays behind reading to Dad when I take Mom to get a coffee to give her a break.

I appreciate him being around, more than I would have thought.

Any doubts I have about him staying in the character I’d grown to love slowly ebbs. This is the real Petty, not the man Britney had made him become. He fits it as though he’s discovered an old pair of comfortable shoes.

I’m lucky to have solid people around me. Bart’s told me not to worry and that there’s no need to rush back to the casino. While I’m missed, the stand-in band taking my spot are happy to continue for as long as it takes. He’s also, though quick to reassure me, they can’t compete with me, and I won’t be replaced.

After a week, Dad is allowed to come home. My parents have decided to stay in Vegas for now, partly as there is nothing urgent for them to return to in Texas, but mainly they want him to continue the same medical support. Dad will need care for a while, and it will be months before he can get back to all his normal activities. Being here, as Mom says, at least stops him trying to return to the golf course too soon.

I breathe a sigh of relief when Dad arrives at my house. Mom fusses, of course, and takes the earliest opportunity to get him resting in bed, going up to be with him. I don’t blame her. I know the luxurious feeling of sleeping with someone by my side and understand how she must have missed that while he’d been in the hospital—a cot in his room didn’t really count.

Their early retreat means Petty and I are left alone for the first time since Dad had collapsed, and from the gleam in his eye, I just know he’s going to take advantage.

His ribs are still healing, but his other bruises have faded and he moves easier now, as proven when he prowls toward me.

“I’ve missed you,” he growls in that tone that sends shivers through me.

Teasing him, I reply, “You’ve been with me every day.”

He takes another step. “I haven’t been able to kiss you.”

There’s been numerous pecks on my lips, of the type acceptable in front of your parents, so I refute with a glint in my eye, “Yes, you have.”

“Not the way I want to,” he grumbles, another panty-wetting rumbling sound.

And then he’s on me, his hand dominantly sliding around my neck and pulling me to him. I have no intention of resisting as our mouths meet and meld, tongues sliding together. I respond ardently, my enthusiasm matching his own, my hands roaming just as much as his.

When we’re both gasping for breath, he pulls away. “I fuckin’ need you, babe.”

And heaven help me, I need him too. “Your ribs—”

“Fuck my ribs.”

Brazenly, I reach down my hand and palm his rock-hard cock. “I’d rather fuck this.”

Air whistles through his teeth, then he grins widely before taking my hand, tugging me behind him until we reach my bedroom. I’m giggling like a teenage girl by the time we get there.

As soon as the door’s closed behind us, he’s kissing me again, devouring me as if he’d starve without his mouth on mine. I’m consumed by him, his scent in my nostrils, his taste on my tongue, his face a feast for my eyes as I flick them open. The appreciative growls coming out of his mouth ramp up my own desire, and all this is punctuated by constant caresses of his lips.

Unbidden, my hips thrust against his, my arousal wanting an urgent response. It’s been like the last week has been foreplay, leading us to this point.

The point where for the first time, he takes me. My whole body trembles in anticipation as he pulls his mouth away and starts removing my shirt. I let him pull it over my head, and impatiently unfasten my bra for him. Although he’s seen my naked body before, it doesn’t stop him inhaling a sharp breath and his eyes flaring as his hands reverently come out to trace my breasts.

I see his intention as he starts lowering his mouth, but I want to drink him in with my eyes too. Reaching out, I take hold of his tee, taking advantage of his bent position to pull it over his head. Last time, his skin was marred with purple bruising. Today, it’s clearer and the fading yellow allows his tattoos to shine through.

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