Page 71 of Dizzy

“He call Carson husky again?”

“Nope.” Parker grins. First smile I’ve seen from him today.

We polish off the chips, and then I carry Carson up to bed, Parker behind me. I wake Carson up long enough to brush his teeth, and then I tuck them both in. Parker’s getting too old for the whole bedtime routine, but he lets me do it sometimes.

After the boys are down, I check that the doors are locked and turn out the lights. I grab another water in case Fay-Lee wakes up thirsty.

I fully intend to fuck her a few more times before morning.

When I get back to the bedroom, she’s still asleep, same position, curled up like a shrimp. The only part of her sticking out of the covers is a mess of shiny black hair and her cute nose. She stirs when I slip under the sheets.

“Dizzy?”

“Hush, baby. Go back to sleep.”

Instead she snuggles into me, kissing my chest. I fold her in my arms. She fits so perfect, and she smells so good. Like watermelon.

“Dizzy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

My stomach knots. In my experience, it don’t ever go well when a woman asks that. “Of course.”

“Can we ride dirt bikes tomorrow?”

I fuckin’ love this girl. I laugh, roll her over on her back, kiss the corner of her sweet, tilted mouth. “Not tomorrow. I got work. But we’ll go next chance we get.”

And then I fuck her nice and slow until she cums on my cock, face smothered in my chest as she cries out my name. Until she leaves, I’m gonna enjoy the hell out of her. The most perfect woman in God’s whole creation.

* * *

We have three perfect weeks.The kids go back and forth between me and their mom a few times. Fay-Lee and I fall into a pattern. She makes dinner and forces me to watch some show about people who always dress nice and have really long conversations in fuckin’ living rooms.

I make excuses to come in the house during the day when I’m supposed to be workin’. I fuck her in the kitchen. The shower. On the living room floor. She convinces me to let her braid my beard, and I make her wear her hair down.

The kids and her take to each other. She bakes brownies from a box and things like that for dessert when they’re over, and they’re always bringing shit over from their mom’s to show her. Then there was a prank war that was goin’ for some time until I called it off ‘cause my truck gets dinged in the cross fire. Took out the cost of buffing it out from Fay-Lee’s ass.

It’s been nice. Easy.

Then, before sunrise on a Saturday morning, a wild animal wakes me up. Claws slice my shoulder and a sharp kicks lands in my ribs. It’s right before dawn, and the room’s light enough so I can see the comforter flailing, but I can’t make out what’s goin’ on. There’s a weird keening sound from under the covers.

Did the raccoon get in?

Fuck.

I leap out of bed, grabbing the baseball bat I keep behind the night table.

I hurl the covers, bat raised. Fay-Lee sits straight up, gasping for air, eyes as big as saucers. There’s no raccoon. Only her.

My heart’s pounding. I crane my neck to check my side. She drew blood.

Her lungs are heaving, and I can see her heart beating in her chest. She’s so damn thin.

“Jesus, Fay-Lee.” I drop the bat and go to her, pull her into my lap, hold her as tight as I can. She’s shaking like a leaf. “Did you have a nightmare, baby?”

That was some PTSD shit. I struggled for a while after my second deployment. Dreams. Trouble concentrating. Still happens, sometimes. Time has been good for me, though. Dulled the edges. Other guys I served with, it don’t go that way.

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