Page 30 of Stay Away from Him

She shrugged. “We didn’t go very far.”

Bradley looked up at Melissa. She brushed back the hair from his forehead. “Rhiannon made me a snack,” he said. “Popcorn, with butter.”

“That was nice of you, Rhiannon,” Melissa said. She was surprised—from her sullenness when she’d dropped Bradley off, she’d assumed that the older girl would stay in her room the whole evening, leave the babysitting to her sister.

Rhiannon looked away and didn’t answer.

“What did you do?” Bradley asked Melissa.

Thomas let loose a nervous laugh. “Oh, you know…”

“Grown-up stuff,” Melissa said. “Nothing fun.” She had the urge to reach out and give Thomas a furtive squeeze, but she couldn’t risk it—not with Rhiannon giving her the death stare.

“Can I come next time?” Bradley asked.

It was the kind of kid question tailor-made for a dismissive answer—Oh, I don’t know…—but Thomas sank to his haunches and looked Bradley in the eye.

“Would you like that?” he asked. “You know, we’ve got some really great parks around here. And I never get to go anymore, because Kendall and Rhiannon are too big to do playgrounds.” He gave an exaggerated sad face, like Bradley would really be doing him a favor by going with him to a park. Bradley giggled, perked up.

“Can we, Mom? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, Melissa,” Thomas said, looking up at her with a smirk. “Can we?”

She laughed. “Maybe,” she said. “If you’re good.”

“I’ll be good,” Bradley said.

“Not you. I was talking about Thomas.”

“Oh, I’malwaysgood,” Thomas said, rising again to his full height.

“I know,” Melissa said softly, then gave him a smirk. “Dr. Danver.”

Thomas’s nostrils flared, and Melissa knew that she’d stirred something in him, turned him on again by reminding him of what she called him in her bedroom.

“Text me,” he said. “Let me know.”

Melissa nodded. “I will.”

***

The drive back to Lawrence and Toby’s house was short, but Bradley fell asleep in that time, his head lolling to the side in the back seat, mouth hanging open. The sun was beginning to set when she pulled into the driveway, a streak of flaming orange above the interlaced dark silhouettes of the tree branches looming behind the house. Melissa opened Bradley’s door and carefully unsnapped the harnesses on his car seat, then leaned over to wrap her arms around his back and transfer his weight onto her body. His chin nested against her shoulder, and as she rose, he turned his head to fold himself closer to Melissa, the heat of him warming her entire body.

“Hmm,” he said, half awakened by Melissa’s jostling, but sinking back toward sleep in her arms.

“I’ve got you, buddy,” Melissa whispered, rubbing his back as she walked to the house. She took the stone walkway to the back,stepping carefully in the growing dark, then snuck in through the sliding door, which she’d left unlocked.

The main room—kitchen, dining room, living room—was dark, and she stepped through to the hallway without turning on any lights. She smiled to herself as she passed her bedroom, the room where she and Thomas had made love. The warmth of the secret radiated low in her belly. Melissa let herself think about it as she walked into Bradley’s room and lowered him toward the bed. She let the memory of their lovemaking grow in her chest as she changed Bradley’s clothes, carefully manipulating his limp, sleep-heavied limbs into pajama pants and a soft shirt with a snoozing cartoon T. rex on the front. Then she pulled up a corner of the sheets and gingerly tugged them out from beneath her son’s body, pulling them up to his chin.

Mine, she let herself think as Bradley snuggled into his covers, turned onto his side.This is all mine. I’m so lucky.

This beautiful boy was hers. This place, this refuge—hers. And Thomas Danver—shockingly, inexplicably—hers.

She stood and tiptoed to the door. She left it open a crack and walked away. In the living room, she turned on a lamp and sat in an upholstered chair. She looked out the tall back windows, toward the lake—a mass of black under the dying ember of the evening sky. She stole a hand up toward her neck, let her fingers trail idly back and forth on the stretch of delicate skin beneath her throat and above the cut of her top. She was aware of her body, aware of herself being in a particular place and a particular moment. There was nothing she wanted to change. She felt happy and protected and safe.

And then she glanced away from the window toward the dining room, and it was all gone in a moment. Anxiety iced through her stomach. Her neck pulled tense.

It was nothing, really—nothing but a single object out ofplace. Something she didn’t recognize. Something that didn’t belong.

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