One. One with Dale because now he’s inside me, his cock stretching and burning me, tunneling through me like a baton of fire.

Ashley. I love you, Ashley. Fuck, I love you so much.

The words float around me, encased in silk. Yes, he’s saying them, but even so, they fly directly into my mind, as if, for one timeless moment, we’re truly one.

Our minds have melded. Our hearts have joined like our bodies.

And still we exist in dreamland, in the Syrah-hued haze.

And still…

And still…

I’m on fire. At the same time, ice shrouds me. I fly higher, higher, and higher still.

Until…

Until…

“God, I love you.” He thrusts hard into me, holding our bodies together as if they’re no longer joined but have fused into one being.

He fills every empty crevice inside me. Everything bad in my life ceases to exist in this one tender moment.

And I know…

I know…

This won’t end after two months.

This won’t end.

Ever.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Dale

“I need you here,” I tell Ashley in the morning.

“I need to be with you,” she says.

I called St. Mary’s earlier. Floyd Jolly is still alive and still wants to see Donny and me. After a quick call to Donny, I learned he has court today and can’t get here. He plans to come tomorrow—if it’s not too late.

I want to tell Ashley to come. That I need her. That I need her more than I ever thought I could need anyone.

But—

“This is something I have to do alone.”

Truth be told, I don’t know how I’ll react to seeing my birth father on his deathbed. I’m still struggling with the knowledge of what happened to my real father. Questions. So many questions. Not my father. Not Talon Steel. Strong and muscular Talon Steel. How? And why? And what does my grandfather have to do with all of it?

But those thoughts have to wait. I’m a master of burying things, and I bury this now. It doesn’t change anything.

I’m going to face Floyd alone. I’ve done enough opening up to Ashley for now.

“All right.” Ashley finally relents. “Be careful, please. Driving, I mean.”

I chuckle softly. “I’ve been driving for twenty years.”

“I know, but you’re upset.”

“I’m not that upset.” Not a lie at all. I’m feeling… I’m not sure what I’m feeling. I can’t think about my father and what he went through. As for Floyd… It’s an odd sensation to know that one of the two people who made you is dead. When it first happened, I was only ten, and I didn’t think about it in those terms. Now? My last link to my body will be gone from earth soon.

The emotion is bleak but not sad. I’d likely feel much worse if Floyd had ever been a true father to me.

“Just come back to me,” Ashley says. “Promise?”

I haven’t been able to promise her anything beyond the next two months, but I can promise this.

“I’ll be back,” I say. “Count on it.”

“He doesn’t have much time,” the nurse says. “Try not to upset him.”

“I have no intention of upsetting him. He called me here. He’s the one who says he needs to talk to me.”

“I understand, just—”

I whisk past her and into Floyd’s ICU room. An aide stands next to him, checking his vitals. I clear my throat, and she turns.

“May I help you?”

“I’m here to see the patient.”

“Okay. I’m just finishing up here.” She makes some notes, walks to the door, and sets the chart in its place.

Floyd Jolly is pale, his eyes barely open. He looks like he’s dying. Which he is, literally. He doesn’t look my way. Does he remember that he asked to see me?

So I’m surprised when I hear his voice.

“Come, Dale. Sit down.”

A chair sits on the other side of his bed. I walk to it slowly and sit. He still hasn’t looked at me.

“I’m here,” I say. “What do you want?”

Still, he looks straight ahead. “I’m dying.”

“I know.”

He grunts.

Did he expect me to say I’m sorry? That I wish he weren’t dying? I simply have no feelings on the matter. None.

“Why did you want to see me?”

“Can you call me Dad?” he asks. “Just once?”

Really? This is why he called me here? To play the father card?

“No, I can’t.”

“Please, just once.”

My father—my real father—would tell me to do it. To give him his dying wish. But I’m not letting Floyd off the hook that easily.

“Why me?” I demand. “Why not your other son? My brother? Or why not one of the other kids you probably fathered and then abandoned?”

He doesn’t reply.

We sit in silence for a few minutes that seem like years until he finally speaks again.

“I haven’t asked you for anything,” he says. “You have all the money in the world, and I haven’t asked you for a penny. I could have used it.”

“You speak the truth,” I admit, “but I don’t owe you anything either.”

“You owe me your life.”

Shit. Really? My father said that to me after Floyd’s heart attack. It’s the truth, of course, but I’m not buying. “So you had a climax inside my mother at the right time. You made me. She had a significant part in it as well, and she stuck around. There’s a hell of a lot more to being a father than fertilizing an egg.”

A few more moments of silence, and I’m about ready to stand and leave when—

“Please.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I push my hand through my hair. “Fine. Dad. You satisfied now?”

A gurgling sound, and then he produces a sputtering cough. I’m about ready to call the nurse when he stops.

“Sorry about that.”

“No problem. You want to tell me why I’m here now?”

“Yes. There’s a reason why I tried to find you and your brother, and it wasn’t about your money.”