Page 31 of The Impact (Parachutes #3)

His jaw flexed, never imagining being reduced to such a disposable title.

“But I get so angry when you act like nothing happened. I just have all of this rage that comes back the moment I see you.”

He nodded. “The rage and the hurt go hand in hand, Tahli. It’ll go away. Lead to healing. Then forgiveness. Hopefully.”

“Fuck you,” she spat bitterly, and Vin smoothed the hair around his mouth with his big hand. “I’m not being arrogant.”

“You’re always being arrogant,” she accused.

“Nah…” Vin scraped his teeth over his lip, feeling a little insecure admitting it. “I’ve been in therapy.”

Laughter shot from her throat. Tahli laughed hard, clutching her soft belly. She laughed so long that it made him chuckle.

“You? Dalvin Isaiah Hayes? Actually taking advice from someone? You’re going to therapy? The one who says therapist don’t stay in business if they solve your problems? They just give you new issues you didn’t even know you had?”

“Yeah, well…desperate times, right? It was either that or…” Vin turned his fingers to a gun, brought it to his temple, and pulled an imaginary trigger. Or made blood run down your tiny porch steps .

“You would never do that,” she muttered, worry coating her voice.

“Don’t underestimate my darkest thoughts,” Vin looked at her to admit. “I don’t.”

There was a stretch of silence her eyes sweated in.

“It’s really DJ’s therapist,” he brought them from the gravity. “But I’ve been checking in occasionally. I may have been wrong about the whole thing.”

Tahli’s eyes narrowed. “You must like her. You fucking her?”

“Who?”

“This magical therapist who rewired your whole stance on therapy.” Finger quotes came with her sarcasm.

“Him,” Vin corrected. “No. I’m not fucking him.”

He tried to keep the humor from his eyes, but he couldn’t lie. It felt good knowing that jealousy still had a head to rear inside of her.

“But maybe…we can try it together.”

“Vin, we’re way past therapy. We’re divorced.”

“That’s just paperwork.”

“I don’t want to,” she sliced him.

“Why? Because of him? Because you’re seeing someone? Tahli, look at me.” He gripped her chin, forcing her to face him.

“Don’t touch me, Dalvin!” She slapped his hand away. “You fucking crazy?”

“You seeing this nigga for real? That’s why?” She might as well have put him in a pot with whatever she was cooking, because Vin was boiling.

“Dalvin…Drew and I are friends. But what happened two weeks ago can’t happen again. You’re disturbing the little peace I have, and I would hate for you to put your freedom at risk-”

“The only thing I would be putting is his lightweight ass in a body bag.”

Her exasperated, fretful eyeroll made Vin dial his rage back.

“If I chose to,” he added. “I’m growing.”

She guffawed. “Like everything else, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He let that sink in. “You think I can take Louie next time?”

“My dog?” Tahli’s eyes stretched. “You want to take my fucking dog, too?”

He snickered. “Can I at least say hi to him?”

Contemplation lingered in her gaze before she opened the door wider. Louie was there waiting. Seated like the good boy he was, tail brushing across the polished wood floors, anticipation in his pert ears.

Vin squatted down and whistled, and Louie came running.

The small scar over Louie’s left eye was barely visible.

That scar; a present from Louie’s former abusive owner, who Vin gave a taste of his own medicine before adopting the dog and gifting it to his children.

It made Tahli name him Louie; an ode to Vin’s also-scarred, old comrade.

“What’s up, boy? Hey.” Vin rubbed his hairy face, grinning at the dog’s excitement. “You miss me? You miss your house?”

Tahli blew an audible sigh over his head.

“You don’t like this little house, do you? It’s okay. Just say the word. No questions asked. I’ll pack you and this whole shit up and bring you back home. Where you belong.”

“Wow,” Tahli drawled, dragging Louie back inside by the collar, then standing in the doorway to block him. Vin could still hear Louie whining behind her. “Subtlety has never been your strong suit.”

“I’ve always kept it real with you, Tahli Celine.” Vin stood to say.

“Except when it mattered most,” she supposed.

“I always had your best interest at heart–even if the actions were unforgivable,” Vin spoke his truth. “I hope you understand the intention behind them.”

Tahli gazed back vacantly. “Fine, we can share Louie. A break from walking him would be nice.” She folded her arms across her busty chest. “Therapy’s working for you, huh?” As if she just realized it.

“I think so.”

“Maybe I should try it.” Vin’s heart skipped a beat. “Alone, Vin.” She extinguished his hope. “’Cause I just feel…” Tahli clutched herself tighter, slowly shedding the armor. Vin leaned on the doorframe, concern creasing his forehead.

“Feel what? Talk to me.”

Finally, her eyes connected with his. Vin had been starved for that connection. Since their lives exploded, Tahli hadn’t looked at him without a barrier of hatred. But now, vulnerable, her glass-glossed pupils focused on his.

“Can I trust you? To confide in you like I used to? Or are you just gonna use it to your advantage?”

“Tahli, you have to know above anything else, I just want you to be good. I love you more than I love myself. So, I will always try to look out for you above myself.” Had to say try .

Because twelve years ago, he had selfishly fallen short and now paid the expensive price—a debt etched on his dying soul.

“I just feel…lost,” her soft voice quavered, crushing his chest. “And very sad. Not myself. Judged, and… It’s like. I lost my footing. I’m like atoms, floating with no connection.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Vin frowned, meaning it.

“I’m just trying different things, Dalvin.

” She swiped under her eyes. “With Drew…I’m not trying to hurt you like you hurt me.

Maybe a little at first. But I’m just grasping at straws, trying to find a little happiness.

” A bomb exploded at his toes that sent his insides crumbling, agonizing clarity still standing. Seeing Drew made her happy.

“I just wanna try to get through this without losing my mind. Without you trying to murder somebody.”

Vin peered down the block. Heard machine guns riddling Drew’s body.

“Okay.” He couldn’t believe that he’d conceded.

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’ll stay out of ya way. However, you gotta get through this…I can’t force you to do it on my terms.”

Tahli’s eyes bulged. Vin waited for her to blink.

“Fuck,” she blew out. “Therapy is really working for you?”

He snorted before leaning in to deliver a settling kiss to her forehead.

“It’s gonna be alright, baby love,” he whispered against her honeyed skin. “Doll told me there’s a birthday party. Tahli turns 35 again or something outrageous,” he snickered. Her guilty eyes spoke volumes.

“I’m sorry, Dalvin. I would rather you not be there.” He nodded, figuring that much. Didn’t stop it from crushing him.

“He’ll be there?”

She massaged the back of her neck, and Vin cracked his. Shut his eyes. Took his medicine.

“Okay.” He stepped back. “No party… No smothered chicken, no…uncomfortable stares.” Just saying it scared the shit out of him. Every day, he was letting pieces of Tahli go.

“Thank you,” she whispered, sealing his devastation.

A blunt on his deck in his quiet enclave of a neighborhood, with unknown insects chirping over the comforting quiet; that was how Vin loved to unwind at the end of his day.

Especially when he made it back home after travelling, pit-stopping at Sophie’s to pick up DJ and take him to a movie and dinner, football practice, or DJ’s favorite: spending the night in a hotel suite and running up a room service bill.

Vin would make his way back home to Tahli, dripping in deception.

If he said his flight returned Wednesday, sometimes it was Tuesday.

Or sometimes it was 6am instead of 6pm. Whatever bought him time for his depravity.

Then he’d get home, scrub off that guilt, eat up whatever good shit Tahli had cooked. He’d retreat to the bedroom with no other goal than being his wife’s lover after the kids were tucked away. But first—the deck, the quiet, this blunt.

“Ayo, Big Homie. Make sure you set the alarm before you come up.”

His head curved to find Tahli, rubbing a small towel through her locs, silk pajamas lucky enough to hug her curves. A passive urging for him to finish up. Yes. She was ready for him to fulfill his duties as well.

“Come here for a minute. Come smoke a blunt under the stars with me for old times’ sake.”

Like the first night they’d spent together in Ocean City, and countless nights after. Him, Tahli, and a balcony as a time warp.

Tahli grinned, taking barefoot steps onto the deck before hurrying to sit beside him on the wicker bench, picking up her feet.

“It’s chilly out here. Fuck it. Spark me up.”

“Spark you up? Okay Ms. Fucking 1992. ‘Spark me up’ is outrageous.”

She giggled, laying her head on his shoulder. Made him feel like a man. The best man. The man he’d aspired to. Tahli. A family. He’d done it wrong, but he had gotten it right. Would his pops be proud?

“I had a day.”

“Uh-oh. Who I gotta fuck up?”

“The Department Chair. They keep changing my curriculum. You got me?”

“You already know. I’ll dig the ski mask out of the closet. Pull up and bust his kneecaps.”

“Her. Her kneecaps.”

“Damn, baby love. A woman?” Vin held the blunt out to a grinning Tahli, still with her fruitful, fragrant head on his shoulder.

“Look at us. With our house, and our careers, and our 35 kids.” Smoke escaped her nose as she tenderly suggested, “We just need a dog.”

“No fucking way. Not happening,” Vin swore. “They stink. They make the house stink.”

“No, they don’t!” Tahli cackled. “They’re cute. And loyal. But… seriously. Who would’ve thought?” She slouched down more, practically lying on the bench, head on his strong bicep. “We some regular-ass suburban people.”

“Tahli, you were a regular-ass suburban girl when I bagged you. What you talking about right now?”

“Yeah, but I was like…you know…a little gangsta, too. Like a suburban-gangsta.”

“Oh, suburban-gangsta?” Vin chuckled. “If that ain’t a fuckin’ oxymoron. Suburban-gangsta in ya $600,000 Colonial crib, wit’ ya lawyer pops and ya Sunday-school teaching stepmoms?” Tahli cracked up laughing. “In ya fucking…purple Acura.”

She held her stomach, rumbling in giggles.

“Don’t talk about my Acura! No, but remember I told you that time me and Abby found those drugs and we were drug dealers for a day?”

“Yeah, real live Tony and Manolo for 24 hours with three grams of coke,” Vin joked with a Scarface reference. “How could I forget? What a bad girl? How did I ever get wrapped up with the likes of you?”

She laughed harder, squeezing his arm. When the laughter died, she kissed it. Then again. Then kissed up his tattooed arm displayed in his black tee until she reached his neck.

“You starting trouble early?”

“Weed turns me on.”

“You turn me on,” his tone dropped to pining, dick hardening.

“You turn me on, too. That’s why I’m kissing on my man,” she moaned. “And I’m…smelling on my man,” she inhaled his skin near his neck, before curving her head to meet his lips. “And loving on my sexy-ass man.”

With the blunt she’d returned burning on his fingers, Vin met her waiting mouth hungrily, feeding her pieces of tongue kisses.

“I’m ‘bout to fuck the shit out of you.”

Tahli scraped her lip with ivory teeth. “Wait. Just let me kiss you for a while. Remember you used to say that to me?”

He couldn’t recall an exact moment but knew it was true. Tahli was the only woman he ever wanted to kiss. And kiss. And kiss…

“You know the neighbor, Erica? She said…her and her husband… never kiss.” Tahli revealed between the smacks of their lips.

“Sucks for them,” Vin’s bedroom voice replied as Tahli moved to his lap, straddling him, arms around his neck. He stubbed the marijuana out to place both hands on her ass. Squeezed it. Groaned in her mouth.

“She said he doesn’t even ask her about her day.”

“I wouldn’t ask her about her day, either. Erica talks too fucking much.”

Tahli giggled on his lips. “Seriously, Vin.”

“Seriously,” he parroted. “What are we getting serious about?”

“You think we’ll still be kissing on each other in our 50s, Vin?”

“Tahli. We’ve been kissing on each other since our 20s…

” he pecked her chin. “…and our 30s…” Landed one on her nose.

“…and now I’m damn near 40.” A wet peck to her throat.

“Why would we stop now?” He tasted her lips again, dipping his tongue between them, dick swollen with five days of pent-up passion and craving for his wife.

“You sure?” She stopped the kiss to brush her nose tenderly against his. “What if…” She panted out lust. “What if when we’re 50… well…when you’re 50, you old-ass man, and I’m 45,” she jibed, “what if you go through one of those weird-ass midlife crisis? You know, buy a Porsche–”

“I own a Porsche.”

“Buy another one. And leave me for some 25-year-old CNA…or makeup artist.”

Vin snorted.

“Remember when you came to my campus last week to bring me my laptop bag. Those college girls went on and on, fucking melting in their seats, whispering even after you left. They think I ain’t hear they silly asses. Gushing over my fine-ass husband with their misguided daddy issues.”

“Yeah, and you think them li’l acorn-nut young niggas don’t wanna play professor with my bad-ass wife?” Vin reminded her with handfuls of her ass.

Yes. The faculty joked about how quickly Tahli’s courses filled up with young men each semester. Whispers orbited the university. You want to take International Studies with Professor Hayes even if you’re not interested in International anything. Do it for the titties alone.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tahli feigned ignorance of what she had already told him, slanted eyes rolling up to the stars.

“Yeah, okay. Just remind them that nineteen is too young to die. I’d hate to have to do it.” More giggles from her, halted by more kissing. Fire doused in sensual gasoline, now ablaze.

“Come on,” Vin smacked her ass. “Upstairs.”

“No. Let’s fuck right here.” Tahli’s lips hovered over his as she reached into the band of his sweatpants.

“Talk that shit I like to hear.”

“I’m Daddy’s Little Freak Bitch,” Tahli breathed into his mouth, gliding down onto his engorged dick, wrapping him in a pussy grip from heaven.

Leave her for what? Get tired of who? With fingertips tracing the bumps of her spine, Vin inhaled the brown sugar crust of Tahli’s essence.

He drew her in close, a grip to the back of her neck as he forced her to accept every inch of the dick reserved for her, knowing one terrifying day he may have to let her go.