I turn and travel down the hall, feeling the weight of my past thirty-four years bearing down on me. I growl. It physically pains me to count the years, months, and days since I’ve sunk into the slick, tight warmth of a woman. Hot anger needles my chest when I remember how Gabby used to employ sex as a tool. A weapon to punish me when I didn’t meet her expectations. A reward to compensate me for bending to her will. A hacksaw to disconnect my brain from common sense, allowing her to carry out her manipulation.
Despite my current animosity toward the whole female gender, I want sex. I need it.
The nanny’s face flicks into my memory. That pixie of a woman, with those large doe eyes and that dark hair long enough to wrap around my fist at least three, maybe four times. She is fucking sexy. This morning, I made a sincere effort to ignore the way her athletic body looked in that candy-pink dress but my cock sure took notice.
She’s probably just another female who’s out to castrate me, though. No, thank you.
All women are rotten. Liars. Cheats. All of them.
But then, there’s the woman who wrote to me in prison. Monica. She floods my mind. Christ, how that woman teased me. With just her written words, no less.
Maybe she wouldn’t try to chop off my balls at her first opportunity. Maybe she might actually care. She has no idea how many cold nights she got me through, how many nights I fisted one of her naughty letters while fisting myself with the other hand.
I didn’t get the chance to write to her when my lawyer told me I was getting out. Maybe I should drop her a line, let her know that I’m out, pass along my home address.
What the hell are you thinking, dumbass?!
Getting laid should be the least of my priorities. Callie is my number one concern from here on out.
My baby girl is terrified of me. It shows in every tentative word that leaves her little mouth. I’ve got to fix my relationship with my daughter before I can even consider patching the other areas of my life back together. Because without her? Nothing else matters.
I step into Callie's old bedroom, my heart beating in fast, nervous thumps.
With clammy hands, I push her tiny toddler bed away from the dingy walls and unscrew a rusty old vent behind the headboard. Paranoid as ever, I throw a quick glance behind me. Then I pull the grate off and shove my hand deep into the hole in the wall, hoping my fingers don’t make a quick snack for the rodents that might well have taken up residence in there. I breathe a sigh of relief when my fingertips connect with nothing but polyester. I yank out a dusty duffle bag.
When my old gym bag is safely on the floor in front of me, I unzip it and breathe a heavy sigh of relief. A tiny bit of that weight comes off my shoulders.
I had a feeling I might need a backup plan. I was right.
I thumb through the many, many stacks, mentally counting the cash I hid before being arrested.
My ass hits the floor and I drop my skull against the wall. I run a palm down my face in relief and clutch the bag to my side. It’s all here. Thank fuck. It’s all here.
6 Eli
I barge into my family’s inn, determination and grit in each step. I’m exhausted from scrubbing every inch of my house over the past two days but I hold my head high.
Today is the day.
I’ve waited long enough, and it’s past due time for Callie to come home with her father.
I spent all of yesterday and this morning throwing out all the old rugs and shit that couldn’t be salvaged. I put extra care into fixing up my daughter’s bedroom, purchasing her a larger, more age-appropriate bed. I even sprung for new bedding adorned with the same cartoon character I noticed on her pajamas the other day. She’s going to like it. I hope.
A deep, earthy aroma fills the hallway. It makes my nostrils tingle and my mouth water. I find my mother at the stove, sprinkling herbs into the bubbling pot that my dad is stirring.
Her eyes beam when she sees me stepping into the kitchen. “Oh, good. Eli, you’re here. You’re a bit early but the food is almost ready and your brothers should be getting here soon. I’m trying my hand at chicken curry. You like chicken curry, right?”
Fuck. The family dinner. That’s tonight.
Now, I feel even more urgency to get this over with.
“Where’s Callie?” My voice comes out harsher than intended. I lower my tone, attempting to sound friendly when I continue. “I’m here to pick her up.”
“W-what?” Ma stammers. “Now? Today?”
The tinny sound of laughter filters through the closed windows. A quick glance out the spotless slider glass above the sink answers my question. I see the nanny darting around the endless yard as Callie chases after her with a toy wand. The sight of my little girl grinning and playing sends a ripple through my chest. I need to take her home.
Dad shoots a stern look my way. “I thought we came to an agreement on this, son.”
“No,” I state, my words firm and slow to be sure I make myself clear. “You guys made your demands, and I disagreed.”
“That’s not how this family works,” my father argues, raising his voice. “This is something we need to sit down and discuss. Rationally.”
Shaking my head, I hold my ground. “I’ve tried that. The time for talking is over. Callie needs to start getting comfortable in her own home, and you guys are just delaying the inevitable. For your own selfish reasons.”
My mother drops down onto the nearest stool, fanning her face and mumbling to herself. “She hasn’t even had dinner yet. What will she even eat?”
My blunt fingertips scrape the back
