Page 104 of Sunburned

Inside, I locked the door behind us, and he cupped my head protectively in his hands, the heat between us growing with every flick of his tongue. It was more than want. The trauma of the day had unlocked something primal in me, a need to feel alive, and I could sense it in him too as he kissed me with raw abandon, like a man headed to war.

Yes, gentle was going to be difficult. I wrapped a leg around his waist, my skirt bunching as our hips connected and he let out a low groan.

His desire stoked the fire inside me and I tugged at his clothes, desperate to feel his skin against mine. His shirt came over his head and I ran my hands over his chest, tracing his tattoo with my fingers as he pushed the straps of my loose dress off my shoulders and let it fall to the ground.

The skin contact made me desperate for more, and I drew him to me, pressing my body into his as we stumbled toward the bed and he pulled me down on top of him. There was nothing other than us in this moment, nothing but his mouth against my skin, nothing left to separate us as the rest of our clothes came off and our bodies fell into sync.

Eleven Years Ago, December

It didn’t feel like Christmas without my mom. I hadn’t put up a tree, hadn’t wrapped any presents or made the caramel and chocolate Christmas Crack.

She’d had been gone for two months now, and my grandfather had transferred the house into my name, but I was still sleeping in my childhood bedroom. Thankfully, her life insurance had paid out a decent amount, because between the pregnancy and grief, I’d been barely able to get out of bed for months.

The symmetry of losing my mother and becoming a mother within the same breath was not lost on me or my mom. She’d bought cribs as well as tiny clothes and an assortment of baby-related gadgets for me before she passed away, and we’d decided to name the boys Alexander, after her, and Benjamin, after her father. She wouldn’t be here physically, but she would be with me every step of the way.

Unlike Tyson, who wanted nothing to do with any of it. I hadn’t expected him to be my partner in parenthood, but I also hadn’t anticipated just how brutal his response would be. When I told him I was pregnant the night before he went back to school, he first asked if I was sure it was his. I’d “made him use condoms” every time we hadsex, so I must have been “raw-dogging” with someone else. Once I’d convinced him that that was not the case, he proceeded to lecture me for not taking the birth control pills he knew made me emotionally unstable, while pulling wads of cash out of the safe so that I could “take care of it somewhere nice.”

I tried to turn down the cash, tried to tell him that while I appreciated having a right to choose, I’d already made my choice. But he said I’d come around. I was twenty-one. Motherhood would ruin my life. Was I “crazy or just stupid?”

But I didn’t want what he wanted out of life. I valued love and family above all else, and my only real family was about to pass out of this world. I saw the pregnancy as a gift. A child—or, as it turned out, children—would give me something to live for.

In the end, I accepted the cash and promised to use it, relieved that it meant he wouldn’t be a part of our lives. I knew of course that he would realize I’d lied when I gave birth, but I also knew he’d never challenge me. The one thing we agreed on was that it was better for him not to be my children’s father.

I’d promised my mom that I’d move into her room and make the house my own by the new year, so three days before Christmas, Rosa turned up on my doorstep with a box of trash bags. We both cried as we sorted through my mom’s stuff, bagging the things I didn’t want to keep, then loaded our trunks and drove down to the Goodwill to donate them. While employees in the donation center cataloged everything, we wandered the aisles, looking for maternity wear for my ever-expanding belly.

I was sorting through a rack of dresses when I saw her. My stomach dropped as our eyes met. “Andie,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her bangs falling into her eyes, and though she was dressed in baggy sweats, I could tell she’d put on some weight, in a good way. Her eyes and cheeks were no longer hollow, and her skin had lost its sallowness. Perhaps Ian’s disappearance had done her good.

Her eyes darted past me as if scanning the area for danger. Tyson, I realized. She was looking for Tyson.

“Tyson and I broke up,” I said, coming around the rack so that she could see my belly. I saw her register my state and do the math, but she didn’t comment.

She took a step toward me, lowering her voice. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”

“Oh?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I know Tyson had something to do with Ian’s disappearance.”

My pulse quickened. “What?”

“Don’t play stupid with me. I know Ian was at his house the night he didn’t come home.”

“But they found his phone in Miami and his truck in the Everglades,” I said, feigning confusion. “So even if he did go by there, he clearly left.”

She shook her head, crossing her arms. “I went over there the next day looking for him, and Tyson answered the door. Threatened me, told me he would make me sorry if I ever stepped foot on his property again.”

“That was wrong, and I’m not defending him—he’s a dick, which is why I’m not with him anymore. But you know as well as I do that Ian had been extorting him,” I said gently.

“Which is why Tyson killed him,” she levied.

“That’s a leap,” I said, my heart in my throat.

“The police wouldn’t listen to me either,” she said bitterly. “Said he was an addict and drug dealer, and it was only a matter of time until he didn’t come home. But he’d stopped dealing drugs once he startedextortingTyson.”

Blood rushed in my ears as the nausea I’d thought I was past resurfaced and my knees grew wobbly. I steadied myself on the clothes rack. “At least you have that money,” I said weakly.

“I don’t, though,” she said, advancing on me. “Ian kept one key to his safety deposit box on his key ring and one in his shoe, and now they’re both gone. We weren’t married, so they won’t let me into the box without a key, even though my name is on the list. I have nothing.”

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