Finding Our Reality (The Reality Duet #2)

Chapter 43

CRUTCH

The weather matches my mood.

It was supposed to be a beautiful, sunny, blazing-hot September day, but it’s not. Storm clouds rumble in the distance, blocking the sun. At least the temperature is bearable, especially when combined with the whipping wind. My ringing cell phone breaks the scowl on my face.

Marcum.

I only left him twenty minutes ago. I guess he wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to call and check on me. “Hey.”

“How you doing, son?”

All these years later, I still fill with warmth when I hear him call me that. It always makes me think of my grandpa. And Harlan. “I’m fine.” Considering I haven’t slept in thirty-one hours, I count not falling asleep behind the wheel as doing pretty damn good.

He grunts through the phone. “I highly doubt that.” He sighs, trying to grasp the right words. “Days like today are part of the reason we want to be a cop. But they’re also part of the reason we want to be anything but a cop.”

I swipe my hand over my face, thinking about the consuming relief that flooded my body when we found the little boy. And then I think about the overwhelming despair that engulfed my soul when I found out what all he’d been through. He was missing for just over twenty-four hours.

One day.

That’s all it took.

One day, and he’ll be fighting this trauma for the rest of his life.

“Crutch, I know you’ve been by yourself for a long time now. We’ve had tough calls like this before, and you’ve been able to go home and deal with it privately. You’ve been able to wallow in your fear and pity and anger all by yourself—for days, weeks. You’ve haven’t had to answer to anyone. That’s not the case now. You have Ella.

“Trust me, in the beginning, you won’t want to talk to her about the job, about the tough things. You’ll think it’ll be easier to keep it all inside. You think you’ll be sparing her feelings. But don’t. Don’t keep it inside. I’ve been married long enough to tell you that sharing your thoughts and emotions with your soulmate is the best kind of medicine for this kind of stuff. Don’t bottle it up.” He clears his throat. “If you keep it bottled up, it will kill you. A slow and agonizing death. You’ll lose her. Again. And I should know, back when I was your age, I bricked myself off from the world, and Nancy nearly left me. You don’t want that. I think we both know that neither of you would survive another breakup.”

He’s right. I wouldn’t make it. If Lulu left me, I would cease to exist.

I nod, eventually agreeing. “Okay, you’re right. I know you’re right.” I turn onto my driveway, counting down the seconds until our house comes into view. My voice lowers to a whisper. I’m ashamed to even say the words I’ve been thinking. “I wanted to kill him. I was praying he would do something stupid so I could kill him—fight, run, make one wrong move.” I blink, forcing images of the vile man to the back of my mind. “Fuck shooting him, I wanted to kill him with my bare hands, wrap my fingers around his throat and squeeze until his windpipe popped and his eyes bled.” I take a deep breath, trying to rid myself of the violent thoughts. “I just kept thinking about Reality. If my daughter had survived, is this the kind of world I would be raising her in? Could the same thing have happened to her? What about Laura? How am I supposed to keep her safe?”

“You keep her safe by being you. By doing the best you can. That’s all any of us can do.”

I end the call, pull the truck into the garage, and head into the house. In the mudroom, I remove my utility belt and put everything in its proper place while Lulu’s angelic voice floats through air. She must be in the kitchen. When I round the corner, the sight of her takes my breath away. If I were more of a puss, I’d break down into a pile of tears right now.

She’s standing at the kitchen bar, kneading dough with both hands. She must be on a conference call because her earbuds dangle from her ears, and her phone is close enough to touch but out of danger from any flying flour. On cue, she talks into the air. “I would agree with that assessment.” Sensing my presence, she turns to me and breaks into a huge grin. Her caramel eyes glitter in the morning sun, pouring from the window. She grabs the box of biscuit mix and shakes it in my direction, proudly showing off her attempt to make biscuits for breakfast.

She’s barefoot, wearing one of those short simple cotton skirts that she traipses around the house in. Her pink tank top and blue bra straps showcase the golden glow from her tanned shoulders. Despite the melancholy coursing through my veins, my body instantly responds to hers. My balls vibrate and my dick swells. It’s always that way. It will always be that way. Even when we’re eighty, with gray hair, and covered in wrinkles.

I circle my arms around her. Her hair is piled high on top of her head in a lopsided ponytail, giving me free reign of her neck. I gently kiss the puffy scar given to her by her sister. She sighs and leans against me, rubbing her tight ass in all the right places. My fingertips graze against her thighs. Pulling her skirt up around her waist, I grab her panties and pull them down in one swift movement. She freezes. I can feel her body swell beneath mine. The air charges with tangible electricity, filled with love and lust. It’s only been two seconds, but the smell of her desire fills my nostrils, making it hard to form a cohesive thought.

I fondle the perfect globes of her ass and plant my palm on the small of her back, bending her forward. She bites back a gasp, quickly pushing the half-kneaded dough out of the way. The box of biscuit mix clatters to the ground and a puff of flour dust covers the bottom of the cabinets.

“Mmm-hmm. That’s right, Michael.”

I chuckle. She’ll figure out the best way to get off the call. She won’t be able to stay on it, given the things I plan on doing to her. My Lulu likes to make noise. Lots and lots of noise.

I trace the scar from her hip replacement and snake my hand across her mound. When my finger rakes across her engorged clit, her body bucks, driving me wild. I slide my fingers through her slit, spread the wetness over her sensitive bud, and massage my woman into a damn frenzy. With my other hand, from behind, I plunge two fingers deep inside her tight pussy. With unforgiving abandon, I fuck her with my fingers, bringing her to the brink of orgasm. Her back arches and her body sways back and forth against mine. She clutches the lip of the countertop so tightly, I worry she’ll break her own fingers.

I need her.

I need her so badly I’m shaking.

I pull my shirt over my head and toss it across the room. I work my belt buckle, quickly unzipping my pants and lowering them and my boxer briefs to my knees. Grabbing my cock, I fold her across the kitchen island and position my throbbing head at her entrance.

“Gentleman, I hate to interrupt, but I have an urgent meeting that I must attend. We’ll touch base again next week. Hopefully, I’ll have all of the responses compiled by then. Good day.” She ends the call and flings the earbuds across the countertop. She barely has time to take a breath before I’m driving balls deep inside of her.

Her scream nearly shatters my eardrum.

I love it.

I pump into her, releasing all of my love. All of my fear. All of my worry. I need her. I need her to help me fight this world. I need her to help me live in this world.

Lulu reaches back, wrapping her hand behind my neck and pulling me down. Turning her head, she nips at my ear. “Did you think about me, Ry? All those years? With all of those other women? Did you think about me?”

I growl. “I couldn’t get off unless I closed my eyes and pictured you.” I playfully tug on her ponytail, snapping her head back. My words are breathless. “What about you, Lulu? Did you think about me? When you touched yourself? Did you think about me?”

Panting syllables fly through the air, timed perfectly with the motion of our bodies. “I thought about you every time my fingers were buried deep inside me. I always thought about you. It’s the only way I could come. Make me come, Ry. Make me come all over you.” Her whisper sends an electric shock through my body.

Sweeter words have never been spoken.

Needing to touch even more of her, I slide my hands underneath her tank top, reach inside her bra, and fondle her breasts. Her nipples grate against my hot skin, putting my already nervous body on edge. Together, we chase our release. She pushes back against me, wanting more of me. Wanting all of me. And I give it to her. I pray she finds her satisfaction soon because mine is about to erupt.

Mid-stroke, she screams. Her body stiffens with the surging euphoria of her orgasm. Her insides tighten, driving me out of my mind. Then, her body loosens and relaxes, giving me free reign to let myself go. My cock is covered in the thick heat of her moisture.

Sweat rolls down my face.

I lose my vision. I lose my voice. I lose my hearing.

I lose myself.

I give her everything. I give her my all.

How did I ever think I could live my life without her? There is nothing without her.

My Lulu is my heart.

Once our breathing returns to normal, I pull out of her and haphazardly pull up my pants, leaving my belt undone. I don’t even care that white jizz stains my gray boxer briefs. I won’t be in them long.

I spin My Lulu around and she immediately presses her lips to mine. I hug her tightly, pulling her against me and up to her tiptoes. I tap her thigh, telling her to hop up, and I haul her into my arms. Her legs hook around my waist. I can feel our juices leaking from her body, wetting my stomach.

It’s so damn hot.

I walk away, leaving her panties on the kitchen floor.

“Wait!” She squeezes my shoulder. “Turn off the oven.”

Growling, I spin around and hit the off button before heading upstairs.

“What are we doing?”

“I’m exhausted. I need sleep. And I need you beside me.”

Even though it’s nine in the morning, even though she’s in the throes of her workday, even though she probably has a million other things to do, she simply says okay and kisses that sweet spot of skin underneath my ear. In the bedroom, she pulls the blinds closed as I strip down naked. I don’t even bother with fresh boxers; I’m too tired. She shrugs out of her own clothes and climbs into bed with me. Our bodies tangle together.

She knows I had a bad day. She doesn’t have to ask. She knows. When a man doesn’t come home from work for thirty-one hours, it’s a bad day.

Her whisper is sweet, like candy. “You’ll tell me about it later? You’ll talk to me?”

“Yes.”

She doesn’t press. She knows I’m telling the truth.

Sleep is about to drag me under when she asks me one last thing. “Tell me something. Something no one else knows.”

My brain is fogged, completely frazzled and sleep deprived. “What if I’m a bad father? What if I can’t protect our child from this shitty world? I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t protect Reality.”

I’m not playing by the rules. I basically had the same conversation with Marcum just a few minutes ago. So, technically, someone else does know those thoughts.

Oh well.

I always do what I shouldn’t do.

Breaking the rules isn’t a first for me.

If she answers, I don’t hear her as I fall into a troubled sleep.

***

My throat is dry and thick when my eyes finally squint open. Lulu’s still beside me, except she isn’t sleeping. Wearing an old Harlan’s T-shirt, she’s propped against the headboard, working on her computer. I open my mouth to talk, but only a squeak comes out. Giggling, she grabs a glass of water from her nightstand and hands it to me. I drink two-thirds of it in one swallow. She grabs it back from me and finishes it off.

I stretch my body, grunting, “What time is it?”

“A little after three.” Closing her laptop, she sets it down on the floor and snuggles into bed, facing me. “You snored.”

“I do not snore.”

She smirks. “You most definitely snore.”

I stare at her beautiful face. I’m mesmerized by the small freckle above the right side of her mouth. I noticed that freckle the very first night I met her—that very first night on the porch.

“Go ahead and ask me. I know you want to.”

She smiles gently, playing our game. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t beat around the bush, Lulu. I like you when you get to the point.”

Her smile fades, and she reaches out, softly tracing my furrowed eyebrows with her fingertips. “What happened on your call?”

Night before last, we were woken up from a dead sleep by my ringing phone. It was two in the morning, and a six-year-old boy was just reported as missing. That’s all Lulu knows. I pick up from there, giving her the highlights of the case.

“A neighbor in a duplex downtown heard screaming and yelling a little before two in the morning. She called the police. When patrol units arrived, they found a deceased woman in the kitchen. She’d been stabbed multiple times in the neck with a pair of scissors. It didn’t take long for them to figure out she was a single mother with a child. And the boy was nowhere to be found.”

Lulu knows where this conversation is heading. Her eyes widen and she bites her lip. I reach across and tug the bedsheet higher around her body, planting my hand on her hip in the process.

“Fortunately, her phone was at the scene and it wasn’t locked. We found a series of threatening texts and social media messages from a guy. We talked to the neighbor and found out that the victim and this guy had gone out on a couple of casual dates. She broke it off, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. He showed up at the house a couple of times. The vic and the neighbor both threatened to call the cops. He went away. Or so they thought.”

Lulu traces the vein in my arm, running her fingers from my elbow to my wrist. She’s been in the business long enough, she’s not shocked, she’s heard it all. She’s even interviewed victims like this, once they’ve become grown adults, I mean. That’s the sad thing. Shit like this happens all the time. To everyone, everywhere. No one is immune.

Just look at Carrie.

“It wasn’t long after we landed on him as a suspect that we were able to get the security camera feed from the landlord. Fortunately, he had cameras installed in the parking area because of some car theft that’s been going on downtown. We caught them on video. His car—after murdering the mom, he tossed the little boy in the trunk and took off.”

Her eyes flicker with activity. She’s thinking. My Lulu’s one damn smart woman. “You got his home address from the tag registration? Or his license? Or public records?”

“Yeah, all of the above, but they weren’t there. We put out a BOLO at all of the hotels and motels in the state. We pulled up ownership records for his known relatives. He has an uncle in Indiana who owns a hunting cabin and acreage in the county next to us. We called him, and he confirmed that the nephew has a key to the place and does upkeep on it. Immediately, he gave permission for us to search his property.”

She nods, staring into my eyes. “You found them there?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

I shake my head, not wanting to say more.

“You have to talk about it, Ry. This stuff will eat you up if you don’t. We’ve been through hell and back. I don’t wanna risk our future by keeping things hidden away. Do you?”

I swallow against the lump in my throat. It feels like I’ve got a concrete ball lodged in my windpipe. “The zip ties were so tight on his hands and feet that his fingers and toes were purple. His wrists and ankles were coated in blood. The guy had made him strip down to his underwear. They were soaking wet. He was so scared he peed and defecated all over himself.”

Lulu lifts her stubborn chin in the air, steeling her face. She knows there’s more. There’s more, and she refuses to be anything but strong for me. “And?”

“And the fucker burnt him. All over. Hundreds of cigarette burns. Slapped him. Hit him. Made him kneel on a broom handle. His knees were already too bruised to even be touched.”

“What about the guy?”

“I nearly killed him,” I say matter-of-factly. “I was praying he would resist, praying he would run. I wanted to pull the trigger so bad.” I shake my head. “He wasn’t putting up a fight. He wasn’t resisting. But it didn’t matter. I nearly did it.”

“But you didn’t. And that’s what makes you the good guy.”

Am I the good guy? I left her alone to deal with the death of Reality.

I sigh. “I held him—the little boy. He wrapped his arms around me, and I told him to close his eyes, and I carried him out the front door. I wish I could make him forget every bad thing that has happened to him.”

“Does he have family? Or will he go into foster care?”

“His grandparents live in Texas. We called them as soon as we knew what we were dealing with. We had to tell them that their daughter was dead and their grandson was missing. They left right after getting our phone call. They were so relieved when we found him. They’re still completely devastated, but they have this beacon of hope now.”

I don’t tell her that their reunion was so emotional I had to leave the room. I couldn’t even stand to watch it.

She brushes her hand across my cheek, lovingly stroking my face. She wants to comfort me, but she doesn’t want to fill the distance between us with mere words. Scooting closer, her hand falls to my scarred shoulder. Leaning forward, she kisses my pebbled and marred skin. Her fingers brush across my chest, where her fingernails scrape against my nipples. She traces the lines of my muscles, gliding down the center of my stomach. I love it when her hands are on me.

And she knows that.

I press my mouth against hers. But I don’t kiss her. I breathe her in. I draw strength from her. I replenish myself. I give myself reason to fight another day, a purpose to go back to the job, a determination to solve the cold case that still haunts us both, even to this day.

The vibrating of a silenced cell phone breaks our trance. She nods her head at her nightstand. “It’s yours. It rang a few times while you were sleeping. I don’t recognize the number, and they aren’t leaving a voicemail.”

“I’ll take it.” Grunting, I sit up against the headboard while Lulu hands me my phone. “Sergeant Crutchfield,” I answer.

“Crutch? Hey, it’s Mike Malone. From State.”

He means the state penitentiary.

He nervously clears his throat. “I’m not sure how to say this.”

I grit my teeth. “Then just say it.”

“Your dad OD’d. I’m sorry; he didn’t make it.”

I knew this day would come. I knew the asshole would do this one day. “Okay.”

My one-word response throws Mike for a loop, and it takes him a few seconds to recover. “As you know, an autopsy will have to be done since he died in custody. We’re still investigating, but it looks like he’s been buying some of the other inmates’ pills and making his own concoction for snorting. Allergy medication, blood pressure pills, vitamins, motion sickness medication— really anything and everything. Anyway, we’ll let you know the results of the investigation as soon as we complete it. I promise, we’ll try to round up anyone who sold their pills to your dad and file new charges against them.” He sighs, relieved he got through the worst of it. “I’ll call you when his body is ready for release.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Excuse me?”

I think twice about it. I really don’t plan on having a burial or memorial service for him, but the state shouldn’t have to deal with the financial burden of taking care of the body. Plus, it’s not like Mom is around to take care of anything. Last I heard, she left for Florida after getting released from the city jail, and Dad got sent to the pen for the credit card skimming. I’ll have him cremated. Trash can have the remains if he wants. If not, I’ll take them to the county dump. “Sorry, that’s fine. Just let me know when his body is ready and I will coordinate with a funeral home.”

“Okay. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news today, Crutch.”

“It’s fine, Mike. It was just a matter of time.”

I put the phone on my nightstand. Lulu’s face is etched with worry. She sits up straight on the bed, with a stiff back and squared shoulders. She knows someone died, simply based on my funeral home comment, but she knows it’s not someone either of us consider family. If it were Marcum or Ray, I would be completely devastated.

She can see… I’m not devastated.

“Ry?”

“My father’s dead. Overdosed in prison.”

Her mouth falls open. “Oh.” She rapidly blinks, thinking. “That must hurt. No matter what happened, he still made you.”

I shake my head. “He didn’t make me. Grandpa and Grandma made me. Harlan made me. Marcum.” I lean forward, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck. I pull her across the bed, onto my lap. “You, Lulu. You made me.”

She leans her forehead against mine. “And you made me .”