Page 29 of The Neighborly Thing To Do
I come all over my own hand and the shower wall, groaning Cassidy’s name loud enough I’m worried my dad can hear me downstairs. I brace my arm on the wall of the shower stall, the only thing keeping me upright as pleasure wracks through my body.
I stare at my hand and the mess I made as the shower water washes it away. I did that. I jerked my cock to my fake wife like a kid furtively hiding his masturbation habit in the bathroom. I came to the thought of her lips, and here I am, hungry for more.
I should feel guilty, I remind myself. This is not what I’m supposed to be doing. Cassidy didn’t give me permission to want her like this. If anything, she asked me to think of her like my friend.
I force a deep breath, letting the hot water pound down on me until I calm down. Fantasies are just fantasies. I’m too old to get freaked out by what my brain thinks up when I’m horny. Yes, Cassidy is beautiful. Yes, I’m fully aware that I’m in way deeper than we agreed. But that doesn’t mean I’ve done anything wrong.
And if I stand here any longer, I’ll be late for our date.
She kisses me when she walks out of the store, and I lean into it, needing more of her. The kiss makes hazy memories of my shower fantasy come back to me, but I squish them down, being here in the moment with her. Cassidy’s kisses always feel invigorating, and I chase her mouth. It’s not fair that she ever expects me to stop kissing her; I could do this all day.
But she does pull back, because she’s much more sensible than I am. I’m mollified when she hooks her arm through mine, keeping us connected as we walk to Donnel’s.
While we’re waiting for our food, Cassidy pulls out her phone, fiddling with it for a minute. “Wow. Just tell me if I’m boring you next time,” I tease.
She swats my arm, making me laugh. “Shut up. I’m not supposed to have my phone out at work; I wanted to see how the social media I set up for you yesterday is doing.”
It’s weird to think that I have social media now, and that I have no idea what’s on it. I’d never bothered before; my understanding is social media involves a lot of pictures of yourself, and that’s definitely something I can’t do on the public internet. But Cassidy knows what she’s doing, so I let her keep going and watch her.
By the time our food arrives, she sets the phone aside. “How’s it going?” I ask her, poking at my tacos.
“Early days still. And, as I keep reminding you, I don’t actually know what I’m doing.”
“And I think you know plenty.”
She rolls her eyes, but her cheeks also flush prettily as she looks down at her sandwich, and I bite back a smile. There we go. That’s what I wanted.
“Oh, Cassidy! I’m so happy I ran into you.”
Cassidy’s spine straightens as we both turn to face Caroline Summers. She walks right over to our table, leaning forward and resting her arm on the edge of the high top.
I don’t know if Cassidy knows that Caroline and I dated once, long ago, the summer before she met Grady. I grit my teeth, not liking her interrupting our date, but I remember that Cassidy said Caroline offered her a nannying job. She doesn’t need the job now, but maybe they’re friendly? I don’t want to scare off anyone Cassidy likes seeing, even if there’s nothing I want more than keeping her entirely to myself.
It’s not even because she’s my ex. If Cassidy wants to be friends with her, then I won’t say a word. But I need tonight with my wife. Every interruption feels like precious moments are being stolen from me, and I don’t know how many moments with her I have left.
“Caroline,” I say, hoping I don’t sound too inviting.
Her eyes flick over me. “Hi, Finn. Cassidy, have you thought any more about my offer?”
Cassidy barely looks at her. “I don’t think I’m going to take it, Caroline. Thank you for offering, though.”
Caroline pouts. “You should! You’d be so good at it. And it’s not hard work, just nights with the boys. Drive them to night school, keep them entertained, feed them—”
Cassidy’s shoulders rise when she gets annoyed, I notice, and right now they’re creeping up toward her ears. “What does one feed little vampire babies?” she asks.
I can hear the sarcasm, but it looks like Caroline can’t, because she continues on, shoving her foot in her mouth. “Oh, Grady and I were saying it’s time to get the boys their first thrall, and—”
“Their firstwhat?” Cassidy asks sharply, cutting right across Caroline. There’s fire in her eyes now. “You want me to give your kids my own blood?”
Once upon a time, vampires kept thralls, humans ensorcelled to be loyal. They were kept weak and dependent by vampires continuously sucking their blood. And that’s not done anymore, obviously, because we’ve mostly moved past such barbaric times. But some people callously still call willing blood donors thralls, like the word means nothing, like there’s no history of how it was used to take away some humans’ free will.
I bet Caroline sometimes calls herself a thrall as her husband’s willing donor. I bet she throws that word around casually, neverconsidering that she never would have been ensorcelled to a vampire, that that’s not a real threat she ever would have faced. Caroline isn’t evil, and the rational part of my brain reminds me of that. But she is thoughtless, and perhaps, in this moment, a little cruel.
I debate staying out of it. Cassidy looks ready to light Caroline on fire, and even though Caroline is a witch, my money is on Cassidy for this one. She doesn’t need me to defend her.
But maybe she wants it. Maybe she wants it without even knowing it; I think Cassidy has gone too long without someone to defend her that she doesn’t even consider it a possibility anymore, and I’m not going to let that happen.
“How dare you talk to my wife that way?” I demand, voice hard and cold. “Calling her that name. Expecting her to be willing to give up her blood for your children. Like some sort of object?”
