Page 65 of The Impact (Parachutes #3)

She pushed her key inside after finding the driveway empty.

It was her weekend with the kids. Maybe he took his paper doll somewhere , Tahli surmised.

Her husband of fifteen years was now dating someone else.

Weeks since their slip, and they were finally acting like it didn’t happen.

She and Drew were good. She and Vin were good.

According to Dali, Vin and Bianca were good.

They were all in a dull, unnatural state of fine .

Tahli wondered if the next 50 years of her life would entail it.

Because she and Vin used to have plans to outrun the plague of merely existing.

“This girl is always leaving this damn violin everywhere, then got me running around like I’m her assistant,” Tahli mumbled.

“I’ma tell her li’l ungrateful ass I’m not doing this next time.

” Tahli tossed her car keys onto the counter, knowing next time, she’d do the same.

Since Dali was a little thing, Tahli complained how spoiled she was from the guilt of spoiling her.

Rushing up the stairs, Tahli calculated her arrival time back to Dali’s practice.

“He needs to change this damn drapery. It’s summer.” By now, Tahli would have swapped the forest-green curtains on the corridor windows for seafoam.

Her flat sandals tapped against the clean floorboards as her family’s laughter haunted the walls—Christmas morning racing down the stairs, Vin jumping soapy out of the shower, chasing Tahli when she turned the water cold on him.

She was out of Dali’s bedroom, violin in hand and smiling about it, when the vibration of a distant baritone halted her steps.

“Vin?” Tahli called from the top of the staircase. His tone, deep and distorted, was likely on a call. She should alert him of her presence. Free rein, and all.

“Dalvin?” Breaching the bedroom, Tahli nearly collided with the misplaced dresser.

“Why the hell did he move this here?” She bent the corner to an empty bedroom, but movement in the bathroom let her know where to find him. Tahli crossed the bedroom’s enormity only to go completely motionless.

Her head was in his hands.

His large, scribed hands, still branded with Tahli’s name, curled against Bianca’s scalp.

Her silken tresses wrapped around his fingers, falling around her slender shoulders.

For a moment, Tahli couldn’t tell if she was bobbing on Vin’s shaft or if he was controlling her movement.

Perhaps a bit of both. But Bianca was on her knees like it was her only job to work today.

Like a good girl , finished in Tahli’s mind. Because that’s how he liked it. Get on your knees and catch this like a good girl .

With her stiletto heels crossed behind her at her ankles, she modeled pretty pink panties, and no bra.

Perfect little B cups—possibly even A—sculpted for fitting in a lucky man’s mouth, brushed his knees with every motion.

There was quite a difference in knowing something existed and witnessing it.

But Tahli couldn’t blink from the car wreck.

Vin’s blue silk pajama pants pooled around his feet; his chiseled frame naked and wearing nothing but art. His muscular ass tightened in what had to be enough pleasure to flex dimples.

Tahli couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak to alert them that they had an audience. Couldn’t look away.

Bianca had to have borrowed the spit from Tahli’s mouth because Vin’s dick was drenched, and Tahli’s throat was arid. Tahli watched Vin pinch his lip with his teeth, his chin to his chest, focused on her .

‘There you go. Take as much as you can, baby. Just like that. Aw, fuck , B…”

Vomit shot into Tahli’s mouth, ballooning her cheeks. Pain crippled her. She wanted to hit him. Hit him hard and have him hit her back. Then pin her down. Such an array of battling emotions, forcing her to judge them…to judge herself.

Still, she couldn’t look away.

“Shit, B…I’m ‘bout to cum.” He faced the ceiling to shut his eyes, declaring it. Would Tahli witness it? Could she handle it?

The vomit she tried to swallow regurgitated loudly. Both of their heads snapped in her direction.

Too-long seconds of a round of embarrassment. Vin’s mouth hung open, and Tahli spotted the shock. Bianca’s eyes expanded in horror. Tahli blinked and stupid fucking tears burned the back of her eyeballs.

“Tahli.”

She fled. Turned and darted for the door, ignoring him yelling her name behind her. “Sorry, sorry… fuuuuuck!” she thundered. Her foot in the open-toe sandal slammed into the out-of-place dresser. Out of place. Like her.

“And why the fuck did you move that fucking dresser there?” she screamed, smacking it, as Vin tied his pajama pants. Rarely uncool, he could barely look at her.

“Dalvin, what the fuck?” Bianca was behind him with a pillow against her chest. “She has a key?”

“It’s my house, bitch!” Tahli screamed, storming down the steps.

“Tahli!” Vin was on her heels. But she dashed out of the front door without bothering to shut it. Bolted to her SUV and yanked on the handle. Locked. Fucking locked and…

She faced him reluctantly, already knowing...

Vin dangled her car keys from his thick fingers.

Mouth balled, Tahli snatched them.

“I could’ve been anybody!” She snapped, as he rolled his tongue around his open mouth.

“It’s not my weekend,” he tried to dismiss.

“It doesn’t fucking matter!” Tahli shouted, fists balled, heart clobbering. Mind fucked. “I live ten minutes away! Dali could’ve walked here. She has a key, Dalvin. So does Lo! What the fuck, Vin?”

“She’s got a key to your house, too? You don’t fuck that man in your crib?” He spat, nostrils swelling. To that, Tahli only glared as he swiped his hand down his face, and Tahli wondered if he smelled her when he did it. Did he smell Bianca? Did he like the way Bianca smelled?

“You’re right,” Vin’s tone modified. “It was reckless. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Tahli scoffed, spinning for her truck, but stopping with a hand on her hood to wiggle her throbbing toes.

“You okay?”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be okay, Dalvin? You’re a grown-ass single man. You can get your dick sucked. You think I care? You think I don’t suck my man’s dick?”

She watched Vin’s jaw flex in her glower. A brief shut of his eyes before he spoke. “I meant your foot.”

Shit .

Tahli limped to the car, feeling foolish. Vin helped her inside despite her swatting his hand. Before she could shut her door, he stepped in front of it.

“She’s not better than you.”

Tahli grimaced. “I don’t give a fuck, Vin. Like I swear, I do not give one fuck. Grow up.”

“Okay,” he nodded, glossy eyes on hers. “But if you did...”

Her stomach churned. “Couldn’t be that bad. You were about to cum.”

“Ask me how?” he dared, not breaking eye contact. “Ask me where I gotta go in my mind to get there.” He invented the shivers that could travel from Tahli’s tailbone, coiling up her spine. No one else mastered them, and here one went.

“Tahli, just because I can’t be with you… Just because you drive me so fucking crazy that I wish I could box up everything I feel, leave that shit in this house, and burn it all to the ground… it doesn’t mean that I don’t want you.

“Baby love, I know this shit is gonna fuck with you regardless of what you say, because it would send me over the fucking edge. But Tahli, I swear…I fucking swear…I’m yours.

” He gripped her forearm, and his touch raised her watery eyes to the car roof.

“I promise you that with another woman’s spit on my dick. ”

Tahli ran trembling hands through her locs. “This has been the craziest two years of my fucking life. Why can’t we be divorced like normal people?”

“You ever want the answer to that question, you let me know.”

Tahli almost lost her way in his maze of a stare. She put the truck in reverse and Vin shut the door for her.

“You almost ran over my foot.”

“Good,” she hissed.

“I really am sorry,” he uttered through her open window before she left him with his bare feet, pajama pants, and spit-soddened dick. Images of Bianca polishing him off replayed in her mind as Tahli wondered if they’d pick up where they left off. Deep down, Tahli hoped she had killed the mood.

Tahli started the Keurig as Milo’s bagel sprang from the toaster.

“Daaaliii!” The fifth call of her daughter’s name kicked off her irritation. It was the second week of the new schoolyear, and routines were still touch and go.

“She’s coming. But watch out, Mom. She’s a real witch. I think she has her period.”

“Hey! Don’t speak on women’s personal issues,” Tahli warned Milo, as he dressed his bagel with cream cheese.

“What’s period?” Terran wrinkled her face, pushing around her eggs. “Is it when Dali puts on a diaper?”

At that 7-year-old age, Terran was producing more questions than Tahli had the mental capacity for. “Mommy, is it when Dali wears a diaper?” Terran echoed, as the doorbell sounded.

“Daaaliii!” Tahli shouted. “We have to go!”

Milo answered the door and returned with Drew on his heels.

“Good morning, Hall and Hayes family. I brought donuts!” He grinned, holding out a Dunkin Donuts box, then walking them over to Tahli. The gesture was kind, so Tahli bit her tongue. Of course, Terran pushed her eggs away.

“Yay!” Her baby cheered, ready to start her day off on sugar.

“Sorry.” Drew seemed to catch on, pecking her cheek. “Just trying to take some of that early morning stress away from you. Here.” He lifted a pink frosted one to her lips. Tahli pouted.

“I’m supposed to be doing no carb.” Tahli was already committed. But seeing Bianca in those pink panties sealed the deal.

“Do it next week,” Drew winked, and Tahli took a bite like the stress eater that she was. Drew held the box out to Milo.

“Lo?”

“I’m good.” Milo bit into his bagel, vanishing.

“You know I texted him about his robot thing he won, but he never wrote me back.”

“Give him time,” Tahli urged.