Violated by Jamie Fessenden Page B

The more Derek tried to persuade him, the more Tim dug in his heels. Finally Derek decided just to go without him. He needed to escape—hide, to be truthful. He needed the cabin. Tim could stay home by himself if he was going to be so difficult. It would be just him and Gracie.
    Of course, Tim got in the parting shot, as Derek zipped up his overnight bag. “Make sure to give my best to the hunky neighbor when you roll over in bed tomorrow morning.”
    “Seriously?” Derek snarled. “I asked you to come with me, didn’t I?”
    Tim merely turned and strode out of the bedroom as if he hadn’t spoken.
    Jesus Christ .
    Derek hadn’t wanted to admit it, but maybe he needed time away from Tim on top of everything else. He had no intention of tracking down Russ. This wasn’t about having a goddamn affair. He needed to be alone. Just him and his dog. The rest of the world could fuck itself.
     
     
    H E ’ D ORDERED new cushions for the sofa and living room chairs a week ago, and they’d come in at the furniture store, so he stopped by and loaded them into his trunk. Then he stopped at the 7-Eleven and picked up a pack of clove cigarillos. He rarely smoked these days, since he knew it wouldn’t do a damned bit of good for the body he worked hard to maintain. Plus Tim hated cigarettes. But fuck it. If he was going to be alone this weekend, he’d break a couple of rules.
    When he pulled into the dirt driveway his cabin shared with Russ’s, he noted Russ’s Outback parked there. But he was still determined to spend the day alone. Russ would just be one more person he’d have a hard time dealing with. He needed time to get his head together, regain his equilibrium.
    Gracie was delighted to be back at the cabin, where she could run around and not be menaced by cars, bicycles, and pedestrians. Portsmouth wasn’t a very big city, but it was big enough. Derek never would have moved there if Tim hadn’t already owned the condo. Now, as he unloaded the first cushion from the trunk, Gracie scampered around like a dog half her age, sniffing at Russ’s Outback, the bushes, and other areas Max had no doubt marked. In a few places, she squatted to make sure Max knew she’d stopped by.
    Derek let himself in and hauled the sofa cushion inside. Then he went back for the others. It took no time at all to toss them onto the wooden frames they’d been intended for. Less than a minute and it was done—a perfectly comfortable living room set. And apart from a little dusting, perhaps, he didn’t see any need for a massive cleaning fest. Gracie sniffed at the couch, and he was strongly tempted to let her up onto it. But of course Tim would chase her off the next time he was here, and that would just end up confusing the poor girl.
    At least tonight Tim wouldn’t be there to bitch if he got up at three in the morning. He was still waking up terrified in the dark, and when he went out to sit in the living room or the kitchen, Tim either woke up right then or when he returned to bed. Or both. He kept demanding to know what was wrong, and Derek had nothing to tell him. Last night he’d tried taking a sleeping pill, and that had helped. He’d still woken up in the wee hours, but he’d been so groggy he’d fallen asleep again.
    Progress. Sort of.
    He let himself and Gracie out into the back porch and then onto the deck, taking the pack of cigarillos with him. He lit one while the dog trotted down the steps to the pier, and then he followed her. It was a short pier, perhaps about thirty feet out onto the water, and only about five feet wide. But it was his pier, goddamn it. He’d have to pick up a canoe sometime soon. He could see himself paddling around in the calm waters of the lake, maybe with Gracie in the canoe with him, wrapped in an orange doggie life vest. She wasn’t much of a swimmer, as dogs went. Usually, whenever they went to the beach, she just splashed around in the shallow water. Come to think of it, she might not