Page 21 of Craving Consequences

I have no idea what’s coming in the morning. There’s a good chance she won’t remember any of this or worse, she will and she’ll regret it. Neither is ideal, but the only other option available is where she remembers and doesn’t regret it.

Then what?

How would this even play out? Jefferson is not a live and let live kind of town. They’d crucify her. They’d ruin her life. She’d get ostracized, humiliated. Plus, there’s Lauren. She’s never been the one to take anything sitting down. Even if she’s in the wrong and did something repellant, she will not accept me with her best friend.

Then there’s Lachlan. I don’t even know what the other man’s thinking or how he’s going to play into all this.

I steal a glance his way to find him facing the road with the same expression of quiet contemplation. The face of a man both fighting his demons and inviting them to a tea party.

He’s going to be no help. Not that I blame him. I am being equally unhelpful.

My gaze travels down to the head resting comfortably and content against my shoulder and I think maybe this is it. Maybe this is all we get. All the universe will allow us.

It’s after four in the morning by the time we hit the barrier of Jefferson. Despite there not being a soul in sight, looping strands of light hang in arcs overhead, strung from trees and twisted around lampposts.

Golden bulbs twinkle like fireflies in the darkness, casting soft halos over the cobblestone paths. They catch the early morning dew clinging to every perfect blade of grass.

Jefferson is beautiful. Like stepping through aThomas Kinkadepainting. A scenic masterpiece too perfect to truly believe

As someone raised in the chaos of the city, trained in the disregard of strangers and strong belief in minding one’s business, a place steeped with stories and rumors had been a rude awakening. I went from living in an apartment, surrounded by strangers I never bothered learning the names of, to a town where complete strangers wave at me from their cars. I know more names now than I have in my entire life.

I don’t know if I regret the choice to relocate thousands of miles away from everything Lauren and I have ever known, but I try not to. Not when I have Lachlan and Everly. I can’t imagine another place without them. After Therese passed away, staying in the place we built together felt wrong. I know Lauren felt it, too. At seventeen, she was too old and too young to dealwith it all and, for three years, I watched helplessly as she changed. As the light faded in her a little every day. I stood unable to do anything as she slipped down a path of self-destruction. Jefferson had seemed like the right answer. It appeared almost as if Therese saw where Lauren was headed and dropped it into our laps.

It hadn’t been an easy conversation. Lauren had been neck deep in whatever drug she could get her hands on, whatever she could use to numb her thoughts through the night. Leaving her supply had been a fight. At twenty, she was an adult and I had no right to force her to do anything, but I dragged her along with me. And it worked. Not right away, but she became calmer. Less erratic. Less angry and volatile. The pivot was more noticeable when she met Everly. The two clicked on a level that felt almost supernatural. Part of me thinks it was Everly’s calm to Lauren’s chaos, Lauren’s fire to Everly’s shyness. Together, they seemed to find their place. Lauren made new — better — friends. Got a job she loves, and an apartment. I don’t think she’s ready to fully submerge herself in the Jefferson hivemind, but she’s safe and happy, and that’s all I can ask for.

We pass the church belt of town, the looping band extending three city blocks and housing a cluster of religious homes. Even in the murky dusk, Our Lady of the Lake looms proudly above the others. The original building of worship with its prominent bell tower extended against the night sky.

I’m exhausted by the time Lachlan turns down Maple Crest and into the driveway of his two-story bungalow. The house sits in secluded darkness, hidden amongst walls of brush and trees that never fail to make me uneasy.

“I don’t see Bron’s SUV,” Lachlan murmurs quietly. “He must be spending the night at a friend’s.”

Or Lauren’s.

I don’t say it. I don’t think I have to. His bright, cherry redCadillac Escaladeis unmistakable in Jefferson, a place content with their trucks and compact cars. It wouldn’t take long for the whole town to be talking about seeing it parked outside of Lauren’s apartment.

Everly shifts and I turn my attention to her and the tiny goosebumps rising on her skin.

“She’s cold,” I tell the other man.

Lachlan’s out of the truck before I even finish. I kick open my door and gingerly lift her against my chest as I follow the other man up the steps. He holds the door open and motions with the other to the set of stairs on my left.

“Guestroom.”

I had expected him to put her in his room. I would. I would have kept her in my bed until neither of us could walk straight, but I suppose the guestroom makes more sense in case Bron returns early to find his girlfriend — ex-girlfriend — in his father’s bed.

Still, I don’t ask questions when carrying Everly up with Lachlan right behind me. At the door, he continues past me to the room at the end of the hall, leaving me alone to take my bundle inside.

Everly doesn’t stir, not even when I set her gently on the mattress with her legs dangling over the edge. The front of her dress slips open, baring a firm tit, the peak already pointed and ready for my mouth. But I restrain myself as I wait for Lachlan to return with a black t-shirt in hand.

He stops next to me and we continue to study the beauty splayed before us in offering. Her body, marked and stained by our seed. Her hair, a wild tangle haloing her perfect features.

My attention drops to the hem of her dress. It’s bunched up high enough that I don’t miss the damp streaks running down her thighs.

Next to me, Lachlan breathes as hard as I am. A comforting sound given my own attempts to restrain the urge to do things I know are wrong.

“We have to take the dress off,” he states with the conviction of someone declaring a new law.

It does not need to be said that we both know she’s completely naked once we do. She doesn’t even have shoes on. She’d be on the bed wearing nothing, except our cum.

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