Octō

For some reason, anxiety seems to be the emotion driving to the forefront of my mind as Oakley and I pull up in front of my house. While we didn't have a lot of really nice things growing up, our father bought this house about five years ago after his first good year at the shop. It's two floors, has three bedrooms, and a big beautiful porch with a porch swing and potted flowers. It's commonplace in the area. Not too big and not too small. Average, like most things in my life.

The anxiety has more to do with the perception he might build based on my home life. I hadn't explained to Oakley what happened with my father, and while I don't know if anyone else had the chance to mention it to him, small-town gossip and all, I don't want him to treat me with the same kid gloves everyone else seems to be wearing. Oakley doesn't know me, not really, so he doesn't hold all the preconceived notions of who I used to be. Who my father is and how my mother slit her wrists in the bathtub. I'm a blank slate to him and stepping inside my house changes that, even if it's only a little bit. I'm a secret in an envelope. Going into this house opens that envelope and there's no going back.

I take a deep breath before opening the car door and stepping out onto the curb that lines the edges of the yard which was Dad's pride and joy. A look over my shoulder shows me that Oakley is following my lead. We traipse through the overgrown lawn that hasn't seen a good trim since the last time Dad mowed it, but Oakley doesn't say anything about it, thankfully.

I push down the thumb latch on the victorian era solid brass handleset before pushing the door open. The door is unlocked which means my sister is here somewhere.

"Law?" I call out, causing my sister to wander from the office to the right into the entryway.

"Whose your friend, Sunny?"

Oh, so it's like that. "That's not my name, Law," I whip my neck back to set Oakley in a firm glare. "Never, ever call me that. She's fucking with me." His returning grin was soft and dare I say, adorable?

"I was just breakin' the ice. Hi, I'm Sunday's sister, Law. Sorry that she seems to have lost her manners," Law says, extending her hand to Oakley, who takes her hand with confidence. Laurie is assessing him slowly, the way I've seen her do to every new person she meets. The gears in her head whirring while she combs her gaze over them. Law is always great for getting a read on people. It's part of what I think is going to make her such a great trial lawyer.

Oakley, to his credit, doesn't melt under her glare, instead returning a strong smile that my sister can't pretend doesn't affect her. The hard lines of his masculine face give way to a broad grin as he greets her back. "It's so nice to meet you. I'm Oakley. My family just moved here."

"Oh, it's always nice to get some fresh blood. Everyone in this city has lived here since the dawn of time. Sometimes they need a reminder there is an entire world outside of Salem." I don't miss the double meaning, the subtle reminder that Salem isn't my only choice and that the opportunities outside of our sleepy town are endless.

Oakley chuckles, a low raspy sound that goes straight to the area between my legs, awakening an ache that's becoming all too familiar in his presence. "There is, but I've been everywhere and so far, I think Salem is my favorite."

That struck my sister speechless, her mouth hanging slightly agape as Oakley pokes the biggest hole in her argument for me moving to Boston and I have to supress the laughter that wants to bubble up at the unknown kernel of truth he just dropped.

"Well. Glad you're liking it. I'm just trying to get some research done on something for a case Jones is doing, so I'll be in the office," Law says, tossing a thumb over her shoulder in motion to the empty office she just vacated. We give her a nod before heading up the stairs and going up to my room.

Once we've crossed the threshold into a space that is purely my own, Oakley lets his eyes trace the walls, taking in the pictures and posters on my walls as though they hold all my inner secrets. "Your sister seems nice."

I nod. "She's… something."

"Yeah, I have an older brother, and he is something, too," Oakley replies, a smile twitching on his lips as he wanders over to the white vanity I have set up near my window that has long since been converted to more of a desk now that Law and I don't need to fight over the bathroom the way we did growing up. On top of it are a couple of pictures encircled in cheap frames I picked up at the dollar store. One of me and the girls, and another of Law and I with our mom when we were little. I nearly choke on the breath I was breathing in when Oakley picks up the brass frame of us to get a closer look.

"Is this your mom?"

I clear my throat uncomfortably. "Yes."

Oakley must hear the unspoken words because he sets the photo back on the finished white top of the vanity with care before flashing me a sympathetic grin and making an ill-conceived attempt at moving away from a sad topic of conversation. I still have the two boxes of my mom's things from the shop on the floor, scrawled with my dad's name on them. One of them still has the worn flaps thrown open haphazardly, its contents in full view, catching Oakley's attention immediately as he lowers himself to his haunches, picking up the decorative chalice in the box.

"What's this?"

"Oh, it's just some stuff that I guess was my mom's that my dad had his shop. My uncle brought it when, um…" I trail off, leading Oakley to drop the cup to the box and bring his eyes to mine, which sting from unshed tears.

"When did he die?"

My throat tightens. This is the first time I've spoken about this with anyone other than my sister since the funeral. It's been a mostly out of sight out of mind situation for me. I'm scared that if I open my mouth and speak about him in the past tense, it'll be like he's really gone. "I met you on the way home from his funeral," I whisper.

Oakley doesn't miss a beat, standing and wrapping his strong corded arms around my body and crushing it against his firm chest. His warmth engulfs me and I let a few tears escape, wettening his shirt before sniffling the tears back and regaining my numb facade. Pulling out of his embrace, I sweep my fingers beneath my eyes, carefully removing the tears and streaks of mascara in a practiced swipe that all women know well.

"Sorry. I just can't talk about him yet." Oakley nods at me as though he understands. I don't press and he doesn't reveal, but there's something in his eyes that speaks of loss he's endured, too, and at that moment a connection beyond the superficial sparks to life between us.

Standing about a head above me, I have to tip my head back to look up at him. The gaze we share causes a heat to unfurl within me as my eyes wander the planes of his face, dipping to his lips before darting back to his eyes that are assessing me carefully. His whiskey irises thin around blown pupils causing my nipples to harden against his chest. The breath he draws in tells me that he doesn't fail to notice the marked increase in temperature between us.

A throat clearing from outside my door cuts through the sexual tension brewing between us, causing me to jump back from Oakley's hold as though his skin burns to the touch. In all fairness, I think it does, metaphorically at least.

"Is your friend staying for dinner?" my sister asks with a slightly teasing lilt in her tone, causing me to look back at her with faux innocence on my face.

"Oak?"

Oakley chuffs a laugh. "I can't tonight. It's my brother's birthday. We have plans for a big dinner. I think there will also be cake."

Law shoots him a genuine smile before quirking a brow at me in question. I can already tell what our dinner conversation is going to consist of. "I was thinking I could make my famous ziti bake for dinner," I say with a smile, hoping that it doesn't fall on the 'too sweet' scale.

"Oh. That would be awesome. Thank you, Sunday."

I give her a nod. "No problem. It's my turn anyway."

I hope she likes it salty.