Taking her virginity was best moment of my fucking life.
I remember like it was yesterday.
Cotton candy, Ferris wheels, chills every time her hair brushed against my face.
We were so young, so in love, but I was so fucked up.
The bad boy your daddy hated.
I didn"t deserve her back then.
But shit"s changed, and some secrets can"t stay hidden forever.
I"m back to make things right, but people aren"t so forgiving.
Me leaving this town was best moment in most people"s lives.
I might be a good guy now, but fuck with my family and watch the old me come out.Books by Author:Emily Bishop Books
I had only one real regret in life. Just one.
Letting her go.
I strode through the old French Quarter with purpose in every step, just fucking burning to get there. To sit down. To read it.
The evening sizzled with life and jazz on this Thursday night I"d reserved for sitting in the haze of a dive bar, my fingers hungry to unfold the letter. It flapped at my side as I walked, holding promise. I couldn"t walk fast enough.
It was from the only woman in the world who"d brought chaos and love into my life"flipping my shit upside down and sideways throughout my youth, when I"d just fucking craved her.
I hadn"t seen her in twelve years, since the first and only night we"d fucked, thrusting our bodies together and inhaling lips, tongues.
My cock had throbbed in her hand as she"d gazed up at me with those big, almost-innocent eighteen-year-old eyes. The small-town carnival had raged around us, all glittering lights and clowns and spinning cotton candy. And we"d been lost in the back seat of my father"s car, in a sea of lust.
That was the last time I"d seen Olivia Thames. The night when the shit went down. When my life had changed forever.
God, I missed those days. Those hours with Olivia, the goodie-two-shoes cheerleader, hanging out with a bad boy like me. Tattoos, leather jacket, punk music: fuck yeah, that was who I"d been. I"d wanted to prove to the world, and to my father, that I was hard. That I didn"t need them.
I was different, now. I had to be. Sure, I still had the tattoos, the dark beard. But the softness, that had come with my daughter. Maggie.
I entered the bar fast then found my favorite booth and stretched out in it. I ordered my familiar red pint from the barmaid, a fifty-something woman named Marjorie. She gave me a crooked smile, showing blackened smoker"s teeth. "Well, here he is again. My handsome Eric and his long lost love letters."
I"d never told Marjorie the letters were love letters. But I spent nearly an hour reading each one, and then another after that composing my own, pen in hand. Perhaps it was assumed.
Regardless, I loved the banter with the older woman"her southern drawl filled me with warmth, tenderness.
I hadn"t had a whole lot of tender in my life.
"Nobody said nothin" about love," I told her, faking a southern drawl.
She laughed. "That the best Nawlins accent you got"" She set the pint on the table. "You been living here how long, Eric, and you still sound like a Yank""
"I wouldn"t call North Carolina particularly north," I said, chuckling. "Although I have to admit, it"s funny hearing what Maggie"s been coming up with, accent-wise, just from going to the preschool down here. She"s gonna be a southern belle, I reckon."
"You reckon so"" Marjorie teased me, ruffling my hair. "Listen up, I got me some mozzarella sticks in the back heating up. You want me to plate you up some""
"Naw, thanks," I told her, nodding toward the still unopened letter. My fingers tingled to open it. "I got something to do."
I hadn"t seen Olivia in years, but she still haunted my dreams. These letters" they were all I had of her. They were the only thing connecting me to the past.
We"d kept up our pen-pal-ship for about a year or so now"ever since my divorce with Candace had been finalized. I wanted to see Olivia again. To claim her again, but damn if things weren"t too fucking complicated for that.
Maggie came first. And I wouldn"t risk putting her through more instability, especially after what"d happened with her mother.
I"d learned the hard way that this love shit, these feelings, they were sweet, but ultimately, they led to nothing. Nothing for me and nothing for Olivia.
I shoved thoughts of that aside. "Fuck it," I grunted. "Here we go."
I unfolded the letter, inhaling the soft smell of it. Something illusive, her perfume or her scent"lavender. Fuck, it brought back all the tight desire, the wet dreams.
We were memories speaking to memories. It allowed us a reprieve from adulthood, and I latched onto it with both hands, all ten fingers.
Eric. Eric Holzman,
I could say your name over and over again. It reminds me of all the lost days of our crazy teenage years. It all seems like a daydream, now, doesn"t it" That we were ever next-door neighbors. That you ever used to sneak into bed with me at night. What did we think being "adults" would mean" Was it this"
You"re a father, now. I still can"t believe it. Can"t imagine you changing a diaper or going to a PTA meeting or any of that. But the way you talk about your Maggie makes me realize that you"re probably a stellar father. Caring. Not the man I always assumed you"d become. Man, that sounds messed up! I just"