Author's Notes:

Full disclaimer, Teacher's Crossroad, contains scenes of sex. It also includes scenes that may disturb sensitive readers.

That sounds darker than I intended, but I suppose that's what disclaimers do.

All that said, it's a Burnt Redstone story, so truthfully, how dark do you think it's gonna get?

Originally intended to be three separate submissions (parts), I've merged them together for simplicity.

All characters engaging in sexual relationships or activities are 18 years old or older.

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Teacher's Crossroad

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Part 1

Chapter 1

The ending of one life and the redirection of another fit neatly within a span of a few seconds.

One second: Tyson glares at his wife of twenty years sitting in the passenger seat, though he was already beginning to regret the hurtful words he'd just lashed out.

Two seconds: Tyson catches the motion of something huge and dark, quickly filling the passenger side window behind Imani's angry expression when her lovely face turns to him.

Three seconds: Impacts too extreme to feel and too many to register. Sounds too loud to hear, but distinctly experienced. Flashes of light and dark. Pain and nothingness, too much of both.

Unknown seconds later: Tyson surfaces to see stars through tall grasses, cold water from the ditch soaking through the remains of his clothes. The sensation of pain returns to sweep over him...

...and he knows she's gone.

"NO! No! No..."

Tyson surged up from his pillow to gasp for breath as the recurring nightmare shocked him awake, as it often had over the past five years.

Ghost pain floated over and through his body, forcing him to recall the year he lost in the hospital recovering from his injuries—seemingly endless hours of pushing through the pain to get his body to function again.

Once hands could grip, and arms regained their range of motion, once feet could balance his mass, and legs could support and push his bulk upright, he leaned into the machinery to find a way to cover his mental pain with pure physical agony.

Excess was shed, and he'd carried much of it. It'd felt like layers were peeling away as he struggled to find a reason to continue. He was becoming a new man, but for what?

His frailness gradually became strength, yet he pushed harder. He'd convinced himself that the pain cleansed him, but in truth, it was just avoidance. After a year of merciless exercise routines, the physiotherapists only allowed him brief supervised visits to the gym. This forced him to concentrate on his grief counseling. He needed to stop avoiding the mental anguish that drove him to bury himself in pain.

It took another eight months before the doctors felt he was safe enough to send home.

"Awww, Sugar, is that bad dream back again?"

Her voice was achingly familiar yet so out of place. Tyson's heart clenched each time he heard it, but he refused to respond. He'd clawed his way out of the darkness when he was recovering in the hospital, and the foundation he was building his new life upon depended on the keen edge of his mind. He wasn't going to give up on that now.

Imani was dead. She was gone.

She wasn't sitting at the end of his bed, slim and toned in her silk nightie, her mane of curly hair waiting for his fingers, milk chocolate skin begging to be touched, and watching him with soft brown eyes full of love and compassion.

Tyson dropped back to his pillow as he closed his eyes and rubbed his face.

He ran through his equations- and when he reached the result, he opened his eyes, and as always, she was gone.

The doctors had thrown a lot of jargon at him while they did their best to dissect his feelings, his memories of the crash, and how he felt about his mother. Survivor's Guilt and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder were at the top of the list, but there were so many others; he'd forgotten their names.

He never spoke to the doctors about Imani's occasional nocturnal visits. If he had, he'd likely still be in the hospital. It was simpler to just accept the periodic brain blip and move on. Besides, he had his other love: mathematics, to bring rationality back to his mind.

She'd started appearing to him at night after he'd begun really pushing himself in his physio sessions. As he rested in his bed, muscles screaming in agony, he'd hallucinated that she'd come to visit him. From the start, he knew enough to keep his mouth shut about it. He got information on what it might mean after he was sent home.

He read a lot about what the mind can do to resolve the loss of a loved one, especially after a traumatic accident. His unwillingness to accept her loss, demonstrated just moments ago by his cries when he awoke, meant his mind was looking for ways to fill that gap in his life. Where only vacuum existed, his mind filled the emptiness with... her.

Five years was a long time to carry the hallucinations, but like his self-imposed solitude and his regimented daily schedule, he took comfort in familiarity. Maybe he just wasn't ready to move forward.

As it always did after having the nightmare, his mind returned to the night of the party.

Tyson hadn't even wanted to go. It was Imani who'd been so insistent on getting out of the house, saying they had to make an appearance, as the man had been so supportive. He was the one who'd helped Tyson get his position as a professor of advanced mathematics at the local university. That's what the man told everyone, at least. Tyson knew the truth. It was the Dean's wife who made it happen.

The party was to celebrate the Dean's retirement. Franklin Dunnings was stepping down and had his sights set on a cushy lifestyle in a tropical coastline village in some Central American country. Tyson, Imani, his colleagues and their spouses were all in attendance at the man's home for one last blast before he and his wife set off on this new chapter of their lives.

Tyson wasn't sure if this new plan was something his childhood friend really wanted. Ashley Dunnings, née Ashley Collins, had lived next door to Tyson as far back as he could remember. They went through kindergarten to college together as the best of friends until Tyson's gift of understanding the true nature of numbers, both real and theoretical, pulled him away from their hometown to learn from the masters at several different universities around the world. When he finally returned, he discovered he'd missed his best friend's wedding.

Celebrating his return and happiness that Ashley had found a soul mate, he got a little drunk, fell down some stairs, and ended up in Imani's hospital. She introduced herself to the genius who couldn't navigate five steps, and his heart was hers for the taking.

The night of the party, as the guests arrived, they discovered that Ashley was absent, which was a first. Franklin made excuses for her and insisted the party continue, even though it was Ashley's sparkling personality that made these events work.

Tyson really wanted to leave as he'd never really bonded with Franklin and wasn't terribly sad to see him leave the university. On the other hand, Imani seemed far more comfortable at this party than she had during previous events in this house. He wondered if it was because Ashley wasn't there. He'd noticed a little friction between them in the past.

A very awkward ninety minutes later, Ashley barged into the middle of the party like the winds of wrath. That wasn't an easy impression to pull off for a slim woman with a lovely mane of blonde hair.

They could immediately tell she'd been drinking and crying, but she'd reached the anger phase of whatever she was going through. Tyson shared a nervous look with Imani.

Providing the evening's entertainment, Ashley loudly declared before all of the gathered guests that her husband was having an affair with a young female student. It seemed Ashley had just returned from a detective's office and had incriminating photos to share with all.

When Franklin returned from the cellar with more drinks, the two began a screaming match, which was horrible to witness, and Franklin finally stormed out of the house.

Ashley had nothing left, her anger spent, and she collapsed into a sobbing mess. Tyson moved to help her and shot Imani an incredulous look when his wife made a sound of protest. He collected the crying woman into his arms and carried her upstairs to put her to bed as Imani ensured the remaining guests headed home. The party was over, like Franklin and Ashley's marriage.

Tyson set Ashley on her bed, her beautiful blonde hair spilling out over the pillow beneath her. Their eyes caught, and suddenly he found her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips against his. For the briefest of moments, Tyson let it happen. Then he gently pulled her arms from his neck and his lips from hers. She searched his eyes, but he could only silently shake his head. Their opportunity to be something more than friends had passed. Ashley turned away and cried quietly.

When he stepped out into the hallway, Imani was waiting for him. He looked to her, sad for his friend, and froze when he saw the anger in Imani's eyes.

She thrust a tissue at him, pointing to his mouth. He wiped his lips and saw the lipstick.

"She's drunk—"

"You're not. I'm leaving," Imani snapped and spun to march away, downstairs and out the front door. He hustled to match her angry pace, worried her declaration meant more than its face value.

As he drove them home, he felt her eyes on him.

"She caught me by surprise," he said quietly.

Silence.

His anger began to rise. He hadn't done anything except try to help a friend. Yes, she was a friend, that at one time could have become more, but that hadn't happened, had it. "For fuck's sake, what did you want me to do, turn my back on a friend when she was falling apart?" he exclaimed angrily.

"Is she just a friend? The lipstick says otherwise," Imani snipped.

"I told you! She caught me by surprise. Her marriage just collapsed horribly, and she was hurting! She reached out for something— someone to ease that pain—"

"Naturally, that had to be you!" Imani yelled back.

He sucked in a sharp breath as his rage spiked. He struggled to control his breathing. "You— I— What do you have against Ashley?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that she's after the man who vowed to be my faithful husband," she snarled.

"A vow I've never broken and never will!" he bit back.

As he sped along the winding country lane towards the lake and home, he could hear Imani trying to get control of her own breathing.

"I see how she looks at you every time there's a faculty party with spouses in attendance," she said quietly but with the promise of venom.

"The bitch doesn't know when to say enough."

There it was.

At that moment, he felt like he didn't know this woman sitting next to him. The woman who'd taken his breath away the day they'd met in the hospital. The woman he'd vowed faithfulness to for the rest of his life. While it hadn't been sunshine and rainbows every day, they'd made it to their fifties together, her fiftieth being only a month ago and his three years before. He'd welcomed the idea of their sharing their golden years together. As he stared out the windshield at the old, worn paving and the quiet rail crossing ahead, he wondered if he really knew her at all.

His mind took him to the parties he'd attended at the hospital and at the homes of her coworkers. He knew Imani was well respected and liked by everyone at the hospital. That said, how she'd flash that sexy smile of hers at some of the men and the look he'd seen in their eyes as she moved by had given him moments of insecurity. He'd fought back against those doubts as she'd always touch base with him at those events and give him a little kiss in front of the others. He wondered at her hatred for Ashley when he'd gone through those experiences but had never called her out like this. His mouth began moving before he consciously thought about what he was saying.

"The difference is, I don't act with Ashley as you do with Devon Wilson."

Dr. Wilson was the hospital's chief surgeon. Tall, fit, gorgeous, brilliant, and single, he was the most eligible bachelor—a divorcee, in truth. Apparently, there was something he wasn't good at.

As he watched her turn her face to him, he saw her anger, but there was something else. Something he was deathly afraid of. Could it be doubt... or was it guilt?

Then they were on the tracks.

"NO!" Tyson yelled as he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes to rip himself away from his memories.

It was time to get moving. Start his day. Follow the routine.

There was serenity in patterns.

Chapter 2

Christy Taylor was having a bad day, and Fridays were supposed to be good. She pouted, and eyes around her immediately looked her way.

She knew she was beautiful. While genetics had gifted her with so many excellent qualities, she worked hard to ensure that she maximized her assets. She used all the proper skincare products to retain her flawless skin. She followed a rigid diet with natural foods to stay healthy and fit. She went to the gym to keep her svelte body in top condition. Equally important, the salon saw her for visits at least once a week to keep her long wavy blonde hair gleaming and the perfect length and her nails painted in the latest trending color and size.

Her friends all thought she should go into modeling as she had the looks, the poise, and was certainly tall enough, but that wasn't her dream.

She glanced at her hand to admire the deep red of the polish, and her eyes were drawn to the brilliant diamonds on her engagement ring. Once, the sight of it sent thrills through her body. Today, she felt... nothing. Her fiancé, Blake Carlington, was handsome, fit, well connected, and from a family as wealthy as hers was, but she'd learned during their eight months engagement there was no magic between them. No sparks. Even the sex failed to bring her satisfaction.

In the past few months, she'd definitely fallen into a funk. None of the activities that used to bring her joy held any meaning for her. She went through the motions, maintained her appearance, and kept her fashions current, but even shopping had lost its luster.

She wasn't an airhead. Christy hadn't made it this far through good looks and social standing alone. She had a brain and knew how to use it. She was doing well in most of her classes and was looking forward to eventually graduating at the top percentile or had been envisioning that prospect a few months ago.

Now she was being called in to meet with Professor Haley, her mathematics teacher, as her grade was slipping badly in his class. She needed the stupid math course credit to move to her next year, but even the fear of falling behind left her numb.

The ennui she was experiencing was sucking away the significance of everything in her life. Still, she had to keep up appearances.

Christy knocked on the office door and heard a voice call out for her to enter. She stepped through the door into a chaos of paper. From his office's condition, one might build an image of George Haley as a Luddite who refused to move into the digital era. That was only true for his personal work. He, by far, preferred the medium of paper to test out his computation experiments. As for the day-to-day work with the students, the university insisted he give his assignments out digitally, but he snuck papers in as often as possible.

She saw the short and stout man with his trademark Einstein-esque wild white hair and bushy mustache sitting behind his desk. He looked up at her and smiled.

"Ah, Ms. Taylor! What can I do for you?" he asked as he blinked her way.

She reached up and twirled a strand of her blonde locks as she looked back at him. "You asked me to come to see you about my grades."

The professor nodded as he pinched the bridge of his large nose. "Yes, of course. Your grades are beginning to drop, and if you don't turn that around I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to fail you in my class."

"Isn't there a test I can take to bring my grade back up?" she asked.

He gave her a piercing look. "Understanding the material will bring your grade back up. The next exam will be crucial to you. You must have a firm grasp of the course material by then."

She pouted again as she knew she had been suffering a mental block with the last few chapters. "I need a tutor—"

"Yes! I was about to suggest the same!" Haley exclaimed enthusiastically. "I happen to know a local man who's not only a bona fide genius in the field of mathematics, he's one of the most natural teachers I've ever had the honor of working with. To stand any chance at all of learning this material as thoroughly as required in the short time you have, you need someone of his caliber teaching you."

Christy gave the professor a cautious look. "Is he here at the university?"

A sad expression came and went on the short man's face. "Not anymore, no. He... retired, early." His eyes then locked on Christy's. "I hope I'm stressing the significance of the risk you are facing of failing my course. You must get him to agree to tutor you." A determined look came to his face as he seemed to be thinking hard about something. Then a slight smile slipped onto his lips. "I'll provide you with a letter of introduction which should help, but you must convince him to do this."

He grabbed a sheet of paper and his pen and got to writing up the letter.

"If he's as good a teacher as you say, why did he take early retirement?" Christy asked curiously, her genuine intrigue over this mysterious genius beginning to lift the mental lassitude she'd been suffering.

Haley folded and sealed the letter in an envelope. He wrote something quickly on the outside, then handed it to her. Christy's eyes widened when she saw the name above the address.

"Tyson Kane? The man who stopped the terrorists?"

"Stop! Do not mention that event to him or the role he played in it. He lost his wife that night and does not need reminders." He gestured to a picture hanging on the wall showing a thick-bodied bearded man in a suit with his arm around a beautiful slim woman with a large head of curly hair. "All Tyson needs to remember is his joy of teaching. The letter will get you in the door, but you must convince him you'd be a worthy student."

Christy gave the professor a shocked and disgusted look as her mind took her to dark places as he looked at her in confusion. "Are you implying I need to offer him sexual favors—"

"What? NO!" Haley snapped in anger, and it was Christy's turn to look confused. Haley huffed. "Prove you are going to make something of your life. Be worthy of his investment of time. He has no respect for those who drift through life, making minimal effort to contribute. Express to him your drive and ambition. Get him to teach you, and you will pass my course."

Christy looked nervously at the envelope as the importance began to sink in.

"Go see him tomorrow. Do you have plans for your Saturday morning?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"Thank you, Professor Haley," she said as she nodded to him and left the office. She set her course to take her to the library. She'd do some research on Mr. Kane as she would treat this as a business deal she couldn't afford to lose. Christy needed to know everything she could learn about the man she'd be pitching to.

-=-

George Haley dropped his chunky body into his deeply cushioned chair as the pretty blonde left his office. He rested his eyes on the door as his mind struggled with the lie he'd written in the letter to his friend, Tyson. He pushed aside his doubts as the small white lie was justified if he managed to break through the shell Tyson was building around himself. Becoming a recluse at the age of fifty-eight was a crime compounded by how he was depriving the world of his brilliance.

What young Ms. Taylor didn't know was that Tyson did despise drifters but was becoming one himself. That clarified the man's self-regard.

If George had been a religious man, he'd pray for Christy's success in breaking Tyson out of his self-imposed isolation.

He grinned to himself. It certainly didn't hurt that the young woman was a close physical match to Ashley in her younger years.

His smile slipped away as his thoughts turned to the woman who disappeared the night of the Dean's retirement party. For a short time afterward, everyone suspected Franklin had done something horrible to her. Then information leaked out that she'd left the country the next day. Most of the money from their joint bank account was gone, and a law firm in New York contacted Franklin with divorce papers. The man couldn't sign them fast enough, and days later, he sold the house and disappeared into the jungles of Central America.

So, Tyson's best friend was gone, just like his wife.

George did his best to fill the gap, but he'd been unable to get through to the man.

Perhaps his approach was missing the feminine touch.

Ms. Taylor had plenty of that.

Chapter 3

Tyson stood barefoot on the grass of his back yard, next to the small patio table and chairs he rarely used. Outside of his daily morning routine, that is. He undid his big terry dressing gown and pushed it off his shoulders. He draped it over one of the chairs then walked forward towards the lake until he was standing on the small patch of sand at the edge of his property. He wasn't as hidden from neighboring properties this close to the water, but so far, none of them complained about his habit of swimming in the nude. Or sunbathing the same way, for that matter.

He'd never looked to see if anyone was watching, but then, he didn't care.

He stepped into the chilly water and walked out until he could dive forward. The water was really brisk, but he pushed himself through the pain until he had a nice smooth stroke pattern going and his muscles warmed up.

With so little body fat, he had to keep swimming, or he'd sink like a stone.

As he did every day, he swam in a straight line away from his home until he felt the first signs of exhaustion, which would tell him to turn around and swim back. If he made it back, he'd have earned a great cardio workout and boosted his stamina and endurance. If he couldn't make it back, then he'd have given it all he could, and the lake would take him.

Would that be today?

-=-

Three miles south of the university town was a lovely lake entirely surrounded by dense forest. Situated along the lake's northern edge was a three-mile stretch of road with twenty small homes spread out along the only area suitable for building. The rest of the lake's shoreline was sheer granite walls rising ten to twenty feet above the water's surface. The northern lip was a gradual slope with a sandy patch before dropping off into the depths.

The lane of homes was once linked to the town via the narrow country lane that wove its undulating way through more granite outcroppings to the western edge of town. There were no homes along that stretch of road, and now it was closed to vehicular traffic.

Christy drove her white Mercedes Benz C-Class Coupe along the smooth paving of a road built just four years ago. It linked the eastern edge of town to the east end of the lakefront road.

From her research, she'd learned of the incredible and terrible fate that placed Tyson Kane's car on the tracks at the precise moment the speeding locomotive reached the defunct crossing.

Two emotionally tormented high school students, the victims of brutal high school bullying, one the son of a railroad worker and the other, the son of a construction foreman, hatched a plan to strike back at the town they felt failed them. They managed to liberate an old engine from the yard after linking it to a flatbed car loaded with explosives and the incendiary devices they'd built. They drove the train onto the abandoned branch line that led through the countryside, past the lake, eventually curving up and into the heart of old downtown. The two young men planned on driving the train into the center of town, detonating their bombs, and burning it to the ground.

Instead, they struck Tyson's car, tearing it in two. He was thrown from the driver's seat to land in a ditch while the rest of the car went under the train, causing it to derail a short distance further east. Tyson's wife and the two young men were killed, but the explosives did not go off. Being a remote and sparsely populated location with very infrequent traffic, no one witnessed the accident or was even aware it happened.

Two hours after the crash, the student's manifesto automatically uploaded to social media outlining their plan and why they did it. The town's police force was immediately contacted, and its three cruisers were sent out to investigate. Ninety minutes later, an officer found Tyson in the ditch, close to death.

That's when the shit really hit the fan.

While Tyson was rushed to the hospital, emergency workers discovered the train on its side in the brush further along the torn-up tracks. The young men's bodies were relatively intact, but the same could not be said for Imani.

A bomb disposal team was brought in to disassemble the explosives.

Christy read about how GRT Corporation, the owners of the local freight rail system, was given a beating in the legal courts and in the court of public opinion, forcing them to make significant reparations to the surviving victim, Mr. Kane and to the town.

GRT immediately launched a program to remove the tracks from the branch line. Rusty rails and creosote-soaked ties were ripped up and taken away. Next came road crews who graded and smoothed the rail line ground and installed a lovely six-foot-wide ribbon of smooth asphalt over the route from the accident site to the town's eastern edge. They refused to remove the rails from within the town proper.

With permits granted to them from the town council, those road crews built the straight and smooth two-lane road which Christy was currently using. When it was completed, the town council closed the old country lane to vehicular traffic, making it part of the trail system. As it connected up to the western edge of town, the complete route made for a fifteen-mile semi-circular loop.

As with any new urban development, the elected officials had their sticky fingers in every pie. Large plots of land next to this new road, and more importantly, not surrounded by granite slabs, were opened up with new zoning for high-end housing developments. Neighborhoods of huge mansions sprung up.

One fortunate outcome for the existing homeowners around the lake, ownership of the land south of the old rail line remained in the hands of GRT. They prevented any new development there. The existing lakefront property agreements with GRT had a grandfather clause, and as such, would remain untouched. There would be no more homes built on the lake.

Once Christy had a clear picture of the events surrounding the man, she looked into his history directly and saw proof that he was, indeed, a mathematical genius. His education credentials were impeccable, and the reviews of his career with the university made her wish he was still there. He was referenced a few times as a big cuddly teddy bear if one could also be brilliant at math.

She went over the photo archives at the university and saw how the man had grown into this reputation over the years. He'd been fifty-three at the time of the accident and as large a man as he'd ever been. She pictured him now as a fifty-eight-year-old chubby bear using a walker or a wheelchair if the stories of his injuries were to be believed.

Still, she just needed his brain to break her free from her current mental block.

As Christy drove past a neighborhood of monster homes, she shook her head. The land around them was open and barren. She thought they should have planted large trees around the houses like they had in her parents' neighborhood.

Ahead, she spotted the rail trail crossing the new road and saw no one approaching from either direction, so she drove over the slight hump and entered the forest. A short distance in, she turned onto the old lakefront road. Christy glanced at the envelope again and saw the house number she needed to find. Tyson's place was closer to the other end, so she drove on, enjoying the scenery.

All of the homes were on the lake side of the road, of course, and many were gated, which seemed silly to her as they were all open to the lake. Thankfully, all of the homes were single-story dwellings that fit into their natural settings. Some were double-width to compensate for not being two stories.

Eventually, she saw the numbers getting closer to her destination's address, so she slowed and turned into a gravel driveway. There was no other car in the driveway, so she worried that he might not be home.

The house itself was so sweet! It was a ranch-style cottage tucked in amongst the trees with many unique and thoughtful design touches. She almost expected to see faeries flying around the lush gardens surrounding the home.

Shutting off the engine, she stepped out and took a deep breath of the morning air. It smelled so fresh and clean.

She checked out her outfit one last time. She dressed for success in her best business attire: red silk blouse, tight black slacks, and sexy but low-heeled red leather shoes to match her top. She didn't want to oversell her physical attributes, so she'd worn a top that didn't cling quite so snugly to her breasts. She didn't have pants that weren't flattering, so she went with black, which might visually minimize her sleek curves.

Steeling her nerves, she prepared herself for her pitch as she climbed the three steps to the front door. She pressed the doorbell and heard it faintly from inside.

After a long moment, she pressed the doorbell again. Still nothing.

Christy hadn't planned for this scenario. She had a dozen different strategies for appealing to his teacher's instincts, but nothing if he just wasn't there.

She stood atop his front step and looked around. Maybe he visited a neighbor? The lack of a car in the driveway and no garage certainly suggested he'd gone somewhere else.

"Come on... you can do it... don't give up..."

The morning was so quiet, the faint words drifted over to her from her left. She looked to the neighbor's home and saw it was also a single-story dwelling, but it had a rooftop deck. On this stood an older, white-haired woman, holding a pair of binoculars to her face as she watched something in the direction of the water.

Curious, Christy climbed down the steps, walked to the home side, and saw a gate to the backyard. There was a small sign on it saying private, but after a moment, she went through, anyway. The path led between the house and a six-foot privacy hedge to the backyard. While the wall of plants seemed to go straight down to the water's edge, she realized the home was far deeper than she expected. It must be quite large inside. This was not the impression she'd had from the curb.

The sound of coughing and gasping caught her attention, and she looked to the water. Someone was trying to climb out of the lake. He managed to push himself to his feet and stagger a few feet forward before his muscles wobbled, and he fell forward onto his hands and knees, his head dropping as he continued to gulp in air. She instinctively moved to help.

A deep throaty roar of defiance exploded from him, and she stopped at the back corner of the house to lean against it as she watched him thrust himself back up to his feet. He was... he was naked!

He stood there with eyes closed, breathing hard, feeding oxygen to his trembling muscles. Once he seemed a little more stable, he began to walk out of the shallows toward the house. He lifted both hands to run them from his forehead back over his head, squeezing the water out of the tight curls of his long black hair. That made the patches of grey at his temples stand out.

Christy wasn't sure what to do. She was here to see the teddy bear professor, and some hardbody was staying at his house. Her eyes traveled down his firm, lean body. He was definitely fit, as his muscle definition was exceptional. He wasn't bulky, but the muscles he had were very evident.

His skin was smooth, and there was so much of it to see. She noticed he had a slight limp as he was favoring his left knee. Her eyes caught the impression of scarring over that joint, so he'd had knee surgery?

Since her eyes were in the neighborhood, they visited his cock, and she liked what she saw. The cold water had obviously drawn his balls up closer to his body, but his cock must not have felt the cold as much.

She didn't realize he'd stopped moving until he spoke.

"Who the hell are you, and why are you trespassing?"

His voice was deep, and his tone was angry. Christy automatically became defensive. She took a step away from the building into the backyard.

"I'm Christy Taylor. I'm here to speak with Professor Kane."

The man scowled and continued walking toward the chair that had a robe over it. He didn't attempt to hide himself from her view as her eyes were drawn back to his groin before she forced herself to look back at his face. She examined his expression to see if he enjoyed her attention but saw only anger and annoyance there. He lifted the robe and put it on, cinching it tight around his flat tummy before looking at her again.

"There's no one by that name here. Go away."

"P-Professor Haley told me he lived here. He sent me to speak to Professor Kane," she insisted, more confident now that his body was covered.

The man paused as his expression showed discomfort. "George Haley?

"Yes! I have a letter from him that I need to give Professor Kane," she said, smiling as she sensed victory. She'd get this man to tell her where Tyson Kane was. Maybe this was a cousin, and Tyson took his car into town? The guy in the robe was... late thirties to early forties, maybe. There was some resemblance to the professor.

He held out his hand, and she stared at it, then back at his annoyed expression.

"Give me the letter," he growled.

She frowned at him. "No. I have to give it to Professor Kane directly."

"And I told you there is no Professor Kane here. Just Tyson Kane, and that's me. Give me the letter."

Christy's eyes flew wide as she stared at his impatient face. He gestured with his fingers for her to hand the letter over. "You... you can't be him."

His face showed confusion. "What do you mean? Of course, I can."

"He's- he's almost sixty! You can't be that old!" she exclaimed.

He snorted in amusement, then his face clouded over again. "Listen, I don't have time for this, especially since, as you say, I'm almost sixty. Either give me the letter George wrote for me or leave."

"If-if you're him, why did you say there was no one here by that name?" she asserted.

His scowl was back. "I said there was no Professor Kane here. That man died five years ago. I haven't taught anyone since... that night." Something in his expression hinted at horrors witnessed.

Christy's jaw dropped open as she suddenly believed him. This was Tyson Kane, but he looked so different! She had to acknowledge how he looked now was a vast improvement! Teddy bears are cute and all, but this...

Her eyes once more took in the long black hair now drying down his back. The grey patches at his temples took on new significance. They weren't there in the pictures of him before the accident.

"The letter?"

She jolted, then reached into her purse and handed him the envelope.

He took it from her and glanced at the writing on the front. With a deep sigh, he opened it.

Christy allowed her eyes to wander over his body as his attention was diverted.

She hadn't felt this tingle of excitement in a long time.

-=-

Tyson unfolded the paper with trepidation. The writing on the envelope was definitely George's.

His eyes interpreted his quickly scribbled message.

"Dear Tyson,

I hope this letter finds you well. The woman standing before you is Ms. Christy Taylor. She's in my class, and over the past few months, her grades have taken a sudden and unexpected downturn. She is a very bright and promising individual, so this drop in performance is out of character, and I'm not sure of the cause.

You are probably asking why you should care, and I cannot give you any other answer than it would be a favor to me if you could find some time to review what is giving her trouble and point her in the correct direction.

I find myself in a rather embarrassing position of owing her father a good sum of money after a night of exceptionally poor performance whist playing poker in his home. He indicated he will accept this assistance instead of the cash owed. I would not interfere directly with her grade, so tutoring is the only avenue available.

I cannot show my students favoritism, and I doubt anyone, but you could turn her performance issue around as quickly as you can.

Please do not mention the gambling debt to Ms. Taylor. I do not wish her to have any doubts that she achieved her grades based on her efforts alone.

Thank you for your consideration, your friend, George."

Another sigh was pulled from his tight chest muscles. He really didn't want to do this, but he couldn't turn down George's request. Of all of his friends, only George continued to visit, though Tyson didn't know why, as he was a terrible host. That was Imani's thing.

He folded the letter and carefully tucked it back into the envelope, but these were just delaying tactics as he tried to think of something to say to the young woman before him.

"Will you do it?" she asked.

He looked into her eyes and found himself preparing to nod. Did anyone ever tell this beauty no?

He controlled his expression. "I haven't even had my breakfast yet. Come on. You can tell me why I should give you my valuable time."

He immediately set off for the patio doors leading into the living room of his home. When he gestured to the lovely blonde to have a seat, he saw she was looking around in delight. That made him take another look about as well to see what she might be seeing. Instead, all he saw were reminders of who was no longer in his life. His mood dipped.

He stepped over to a small wood-burning stove heating the room, opened the door, and tossed George's letter inside. As he closed the door, the letter ignited and was soon just ashes. He turned to look back at his guest.

"I have to take a shower and get dressed. Then I'm making breakfast. Have you eaten?" he asked.

She nodded quickly. "But, I wouldn't mind an espresso or a coffee if you're making some?"

He frowned and pointed to the machines in the kitchen. He'd never learned how to use it, but the last time George visited, he brought some specialty beans, used the grinder and the espresso machine to make them both a lovely pick-me-up with the damn thing. "It works, but I haven't clue how to use it. If you know, help yourself."

Tyson walked away without looking to see if she needed anything else. He closed his bedroom door and walked into the bathroom to put his robe in the laundry basket. He took a quick shower, shaved, and dressed, tan shorts and a black t-shirt. He rubbed a little unscented liniment over his left knee as it was aching this morning.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his door and headed back to the living room.

He spotted the blonde— no, Ms. Taylor, standing in the kitchen before the espresso machine. It was making its normal sounds, so he assumed she knew what she was doing.

She turned to smile at him, and he was struck by how familiar she looked at that moment. Something about her...

"This machine is wonderful! So much better than the one my parents have at home!" she gushed.

That nagging sensation of familiarity vanished with the young woman's enthusiasm.

"I'm more of a plain black coffee man myself, but Imani knew her espresso," he said without enthusiasm. She gave him a compassionate smile, and he immediately moved himself to the fridge as he had breakfast to make. He grabbed two eggs, some yogurt, spinach, and a few small tomatoes. While he made his scrambled eggs, he glanced over at her working the espresso machine. She was making two small cups of the stuff.

"These are very good beans," she noted happily.

He nodded slightly. "George brought them over."

She nodded and finished the preparations. Their espresso was ready. "When I first got here, I didn't see a car in the driveway. I thought maybe you'd driven into town."

"I don't drive," he said bluntly.

She looked at him cautiously. "Because of—"

"Yes," he said, cutting her off.

She paused at his abrupt answer. She slid his little mug towards him, and he nodded his thanks. "How do you get groceries?" she asked.

He glanced at her wearily. "They deliver."

He sipped the espresso, and it was good but very strong. He smiled at her expectant look, and her face lit up in a brilliant smile. That sensation of recognition returned, but he was still missing the clue that would connect the dots.

"You have a beautiful home! Is that door for a second bedroom?" she asked, pointing to the door to the right of his bedroom door. Most of the stuff in that room once belonged to Imani.

"Yes, but it's just storage for junk and where I work out on my home gym."

Tyson finished making his breakfast and carried it to the small table next to the patio doors to look out at the lake while he ate.

Of course, Ms. Taylor thought that was an invitation to sit between him and the doors, blocking his view. She smiled at him, and his irritation at this spiked. He was feeling pressured, and he didn't like it.

"Did George tell you I won't teach idiots?" he asserted, regretting his bluntness as the words left his lips.

"Yes, Professor Haley was very clear that I would need to prove I was worthy of your time," she said calmly.

"And?"

Ms. Taylor proceeded with her pitch as Tyson listened in silence, eating his breakfast.

He felt himself nod approvingly as he heard things he was impressed with, and she seemed to sit up a little taller each time he did, her smile showing her pleasure at receiving this tiny bit of praise.

When she reached the end and described how her grade was slipping, he recalled George's comment regarding the mystery. He had to agree. This woman had so many privileges, yet this starts to slide, and she makes no effort to resolve it?

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

Her smile wobbled as she thought she'd been explaining why.

He saw her confusion. "No, why is this grade slipping?"

He saw that sink home, and she went quiet as she thought about it. Finally, she seemed to find something. "My other classes are simple in comparison. It feels like I already know all the material, and it comes naturally. I have to make a stronger effort in this class."

"And you haven't made a stronger effort because..."

Her eyes locked on his as her smile slipped away, and he saw a momentary flash of depression. He was very familiar with that foe.

"Count your privileges," he said, and her expression clouded.

The fire of anger flashed in her pretty eyes. "Listen, I know I'm one of the fortunate ones to be born into wealth and privilege—" she began as her steam began to show.

Tyson shook his head. "No, it's a mental exercise. Count the things you are grateful for."

She blinked at him. "Am I being given a mental evaluation?" she asked, suddenly recognizing the process.

He gave her a stern look. "If I'm going to be able to teach you, I need to know if your block is purely conceptual or is tangled up in something emotional. Each requires a different approach." He wanted to tell her he was in no condition to deal with someone else's emotional baggage, but something held his tongue.

She nodded to him with wide eyes and went back to thinking of her privileges, as he labeled them.

"Can't be a thing. Concepts only," he clarified, and she shot him an annoyed look.

She cleared her throat delicately. "I'm grateful for my family. I'm grateful for my friends. I'm grateful for my fiancé. I'm grateful for being able to attend this university. I'm grateful for—"

"Stop. You just mentioned the most significant sources of your potential for happiness. People. Which one was the lie?"

She made a sound of outrage, but he wasn't listening and pushed forward.

"Your parents. Is your dad pressuring you to do something with your life? If your mom too critical of your choices?" he asserted.

"No! They're nothing like that! They've been nothing but supportive," she bit back, but he saw something in her expression again.

"So, they support something you don't agree with. Let's move on," he pushed, and her outrage just increased. He didn't care, as he had nothing to lose. He understood George's refusal to adjust her score. Tyson was also protecting his integrity as a teacher... though he had no interest in returning to that occupation.

"Your friends. Do you have any frenemies in your clique? Someone you don't trust at your back? Someone who may be plotting against you now?" he asked.

"Again, no! I don't let people with poisonous personalities close to me!" she snapped.

Be nodded. "Then it must be the fiancé. He leaves something to be desired? Is he too assertive? Not assertive enough? Has he abused you?"

"He would NEVER—" she gasped as her eyes flew wide. She stared at Tyson like he was a rabid dog.

"But, he doesn't rock your world in bed?" Tyson asked as he picked up a hesitation and took a wild guess.

Ms. Taylor stood and stepped around the table. He saw the slap incoming, but he just accepted it.

He'd felt worse pain.

Chapter 4

Christy stormed out of the house and dropped herself in the driver's seat of her car before the tears came. She wasn't even sure why she was crying. She told herself it was because of his rude behavior, but she wouldn't allow herself to accept that as entirely accurate.

He'd been right, and she couldn't deal with it. She allowed herself to release her tension and gradually pushed back against her tears until they stopped.

She couldn't give up, or she'd fail the course. She didn't want to prove to the man inside that house that he was correct in his assumption that she wasn't worthy. She was completely worthy!

Christy climbed out of the car and lifted from the back seat the bag containing her books and notes for the math course.

She took a deep breath and turned back to the cottage-style home.

Be bold or go home.

She marched back to the front door and rang the bell. Moments later, the man's face held a suspicious expression as he peered at her through the screen door.

"I'm sorry for slapping you."

His expression didn't change as he spoke to her. "No, you're not. You had reason to do it. I was rude."

She waited a second. "May I come back in?"

He sighed and stood aside, gesturing for her to enter.

She walked back to the table and set her bag of books on the table.

He looked at it with a frown. "I haven't agreed to teach you yet."

"You've identified the issue I'm having that's affecting my grades—"

"Only half of the issue has been dealt with. Identifying it was a good start, but you need a definite plan for resolving it, or it'll continue to block you," he suggested.

"I'm calling off the wedding," she asserted, surprising herself by how good those words felt. She felt a weight lifting from her shoulders.

Tyson's brows went up in surprise. "That seems rather extreme for a little bedroom issue. You could just go for counseling for that."

She frowned and shook her head. "It isn't just the sex." She thought about it for a moment, and with the decision to end the engagement already achieved, the remaining truths she'd been hiding from herself came forth. "I... I think it's because we're too much alike. Our worlds are identical, and our likes and dislikes are the same. No friction means no sparks. It would be easy to be married to Blake, but I think I'd eventually die of boredom or begin having affairs. I've no doubt he'd have them, too. When he proposed, I was caught up in the excitement of the prospect of marriage, but it's not enough. It wouldn't be fair to either of us."

She looked at the diamond ring on her hand and tugged it from her finger with a sigh. She really liked the ring. She dropped it into her purse.

"Could we get started?" she asked, and he couldn't suppress the small snort of amusement at her tenacity.

"Did I say I've agreed to teach you yet?" he asked in return.

Blue eyes locked on his brown eyes. "You've identified the issue, and I've described my plan to resolve it. I won't let this prevent my career from proceeding. What else do you need?" Christy asserted.

He nodded to himself as she demonstrated she was serious, and she saw his final reservation slip away.

"Fine. Take me to the last section you felt comfortable with," Tyson said as he moved to sit next to her at the small table. She smiled and pulled out her books, and turned to her notes.

They spent the rest of the morning in the review. He took her back two additional chapters before he was convinced she comprehended the material. "You started missing things here," he pointed out, and she thought back to when they began the chapter in question. It was a couple of weeks after the engagement began. How had he known? She glanced at Tyson's face, and he looked back curiously, but she just shook her head with a self-conscious smile and turned her attention back to the textbook.

He took her back through the chapters, explaining the formulae and showing examples of how to use them. Christy made notes as they went and felt the information soaking in. She raised her hand to get him to stop on a particular problem they were solving. She recalled becoming seriously frustrated with this section before, but now it seemed far more understandable. "Why can't they teach this the way you just did? It makes so much more sense how you just explained," she exclaimed in frustration.

He shrugged. "Different teachers have their own style of teaching, but the math is the math. Numbers have a beautiful language of their own."

He glanced at the wall clock. "Are you hungry?"

She nodded with a little smile.

"I was just going to make a salad with grilled chicken. Does that work for you?" Tyson asked, and her smile widened as she nodded to him.

"Run through those three practice questions while I make us lunch," he said, pointing to the textbook.

"Yes, sir," she said with a grin.

He went to the kitchen, and she caught herself watching his ass move in his tight shorts. She turned back to her notebook and started on the equations. She powered through the first two, but her mind was distracted by images of Tyson climbing out of the lake before she could get to the third. She couldn't believe he was fifty-eight! He looked so fucking sexy, walking from the water, naked.

"What's troubling you about the third question?"

She squeaked as his voice caught her in mid-fantasy. "Sorry, what?"

He frowned at her. "I said, what's giving you trouble on the third one?"

"Oh, nothing. I just got a little distracted," she replied.

He gave her a raised eyebrow, then placed the lunch plates on the table as she concentrated on completing the final question.

When she was done, she handed her work over to him. He quickly confirmed she knew the material.

"Looks like you have this under control. After lunch, we will complete the next four chapters. You are doing very well, so there must have just been a small conceptual misunderstanding."

"No, I don't think you understand just how much of a difference your teaching method makes for learning this stuff," she insisted.

He shook his head. "I'm not a teacher anymore."

She shook hers. "And that's a damn shame."

"If you want my help this afternoon, you'll drop it."

She threw her hands up in surrender. They dug into their lunches, and Christy was impressed. The salad was fresh, the grilled chicken was hot and a little spicy, which went well with the dressing. "It's like spicy chicken wings in a cool creamy dressing!"

He smiled and nodded. "Secret recipe."

After a few minutes of silence, Christy could no longer suppress the urge to ask him a question. "If you don't drive, do you go outside for more than your morning swim?"

He gave her an evaluating look then decided to answer. "I go for a walk every day. I'll do it today after we finish the fourth chapter.

"Where do you walk?" she asked.

"I walk the length of the lakefront road and back. Six miles,"

"I have my gym clothes in my car. Could I join you today?" she asked boldly.

He looked into her eyes, but all she showed him was hope. He seemed unsettled by something as he kept looking at her. He looked like he wanted to say no, but he caved. "Fine."

She looked around and tried counting all the pictures of Tyson and his wife scattered around the room but lost track. "You certainly have a lot of photos. I can't get over how much you changed!"

He glanced around as well and shrugged. "As I said earlier, the man in those pictures died that night. Everything he held as important died. I'm not Professor Kane. I'm just Tyson Kane now."

"Is math important?"

Tyson froze, then looked into blue eyes challenging him to take his words back.

"Let's finish the tutoring," he said stiffly.

They spent the next three hours going through four chapters in the textbook. Christy made detailed notes of his explanations, and she asked many questions. He never lost his temper or made discouraging noises. She looked more and more relaxed as the lessons proceeded, and as they finished up the last chapter, she closed her notebook with a satisfied sigh.

"I now have a buffer. We went one chapter beyond what's being taught at the university, and I know the methods and formulae. I'm going to ace the next test. I feel it. Thank you so much!"

He nodded to her and looked away from her smile with a troubled look on his face.

"Are you ready to take your walk?" Christy asked.

He stood up and stretched, and her eyes went to the exposed patch of his abdomen and marveled at the muscles there. "Yes, I just need to get changed."

"Let me put my books away and get my gym clothes," she said, and she leaped from her chair. She stuffed her books into the bag and dashed outside. She switched bags in the car and carried her duffle bag back into the home.

"You can use the guest bathroom to change," he offered, and she headed inside.

Once the door was closed, she let herself grin mischievously. He wasn't gonna know what hit him!

-=-

Tyson watched the bathroom door close and wondered how he'd gotten himself into this situation. Granted, it was George's fault for sending her his way. She was certainly easy on the eyes, and her lovely outfit hinted at a well cared for body. He scowled at himself as she was young enough to be his daughter and almost a granddaughter at that.

Pushing that from his mind, he went to the master bedroom and slipped into his running tights. Not that he'd be doing any running that day as his knee was acting up. He slipped on a pair of ankle socks. He went back to the living room, locked the patio doors, and grabbed his keys. He sat on the bench by the front door and put his runners on. He heard a noise and looked up.

His jaw dropped, and he froze as she prowled toward him. As his eyes panned up her body, he saw her runners were a splash of color below the bands of skin at her exposed ankles. Her yoga pants were clinging to and accentuating her sleek curves. They were patterned with boldly-colored parrot feathers from just above her ankle to just above the knee. Rising out of the feathers, climbing up her long thighs, and encasing her spectacular ass, the pattern was orange, gold, and brown leopard print. Her flat tummy muscles were firm and visible from waist to below the matching leopard print sports bra, which contained and controlled her generous bosom. He saw she was giving him a dazzling smile for his dazzled expression, and her lovely blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail.

"Uh, that's quite the outfit."

"Do you like it? This is my first opportunity to wear it," she said, sliding her hands over the smooth fabric, and Tyson felt an unfamiliar surge of tingles between his legs. It'd been years since he'd gotten excited about a woman. He was really uncomfortable about it happening for a woman who was this young.

"Yes! I mean, it's... very flattering. You look... yes. We should go," Tyson stumbled through his response as he struggled to find someplace else to look.

She moved out the door with a satisfied little smile on her lips, and his eyes immediately went to her ass. His breath caught as it truly was one of the sexiest asses he'd ever seen.

He locked up and saw her eyeing his ass in his tights. Her face flushed at being caught. Then her eyes widened slightly when she saw the bulge growing up the front of his walking pants.

Tyson did his best to relax as he walked down the drive to the road. He turned left, and Christy fell into step next to him.

He glanced at her happy expression and frowned in puzzlement. "I'm sure this isn't giving you as good a workout as you would be getting at the gym. And you'd be showing off your new outfit to a much younger audience who could show you better appreciation for your beaut— your outfit!"

She bit her lip to hide her smile at his slip, then shook her head as they set a brisk pace along the road. "The gym gets stale after a while. Getting outside from time to time feels really good," she said with a wide smile. "Besides, you're far more fit than anyone I've ever seen in our gym."

He looked at her with raised eyebrows, and she nodded to indicate it was the truth. "You are seriously hot!"

"For someone who's almost sixty, you mean," he suggested.

She held up her hands. "No, you just look hot. I don't see you as old, at all!"

They walked on in silence as he contemplated this new information. He was flattered, but that's all. The truth was, he was approaching the end of his life while she was just beginning hers.

They reached the western end of the road, where it once continued to town on the country road. They passed the spot where the train crossing used to be. As he always did, Tyson stopped to take a moment to reflect on the statistical impossibility of the events that transpired that night. He almost wanted to call it a failure of the numbers, but his empirical evidence proved that it could, and did, happen.

"Is this the spot?" Christy said gently, and he glanced at her.

He began to move away from the crossing, heading east along the road as she followed. "Yes. They found me in that ditch." He pointed to the spot twenty feet away where his body came to rest once it was ripped from the shattered car. They stopped again as there was a large stone with Imani's name etched in it. She wasn't buried here, of course, but the town wanted to honor her, so... here was the stone. He walked on.

He moved to a light jog to get away from the reminders of the accident, and the pain in his knee wasn't too bad. Christy jogged up beside him, and he felt her watching him from the side. He looked over, and she gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Please don't."

She was quiet for a moment. "Sorry."

They continued to jog until he had to drop back to walking as the ache was signaling it was time not to press his luck.

"What's wrong with your knee?" she asked.

"It needs replacing," he grunted.

"I understand that's a pretty straightforward operation these days," she suggested.

He nodded but remained silent. For him, it wasn't the thought of the operation but the drive to the hospital that sent ice through his veins. The psychologist he'd met in the hospital told him he could get over that with therapy, but he hadn't gone back to the hospital since he left. His life just went on hold.

"I could give you a lift if you want—"

"NO. Sorry. No, I don't... drive or ride in cars," he insisted.

She was quiet once more, and he did his best to avoid looking to see her disappointment, but he finally had to look over at her. It wasn't disappointment. It was pity, which felt worse.

"Don't! Listen, I don't deserve your pity. I don't need it," he growled, but his voice went shaky, spoiling his moment of defiance. He clammed up.

They walked along the tree-lined street, soaking in the ambiance of nature.

"I suppose if you had to pick your prison, you chose well. It's lovely here," Christy said calmly.

He turned his look of outrage to her, but she just held his eye and defied him to argue the point.

His jaw worked, but no words came. He tried to jog away from her, but two steps later, he was back to walking. His knee wasn't taking his shit either.

She returned to his side to pace him and remained there until they reached the eastern end of the lakefront road, where they turned and began heading back on the lake side of the roadway. Christy eyed the homes along the route with interest.

"How much would it cost to buy one of these homes?" she finally asked.

He snorted. "You'd never find an owner willing to sell, even if they could." At her look, he explained. "The property tax is zero because the land is actually owned by GRT. We can't alter the footprint of the homes or add additional stories. We're not allowed to pave the driveways. The homes are leased, so we can't sell them, but we're allowed to pass our lease to a family member. The original owners of GRT were old-school pioneer family types and believed in family homesteads. So, even with all the restrictions, we have a really sweet deal. That said, there is a lot of potential money tied up in this land. The lease runs out in roughly sixty years, at which time you will likely see one of two things: GRT may evict everyone and sell off the properties for a large fortune per lot. Massive mansions would be built where these bungalows now stand."

"What's the other option?" she asked.

"Rumor has it GRT will send a big fuck you to the town council by setting up another century lease with the current owners with the same restrictions." He saw the incredulous look on the pretty face of the blonde. "Tensions had eased considerably between the town council and GRT until the accident and the subsequent lawsuit. The council tried to force them to hand over the property around the lake and the forest. Instead, they got the new road so the town could build a new subdivision for themselves with their developer buddies. That generated a lot of new bad blood between them and GRT. Dumb, greedy bastards."

"So those houses I saw on the way in—"

"Are eighty percent owned by members of the town council," he said with a grim expression.

They continued on as Christy seemed lost in thought.

"Blake's mother is a member of the town council, and his father is a real estate developer," she finally said.

He saw the troubled look in her eye and shrugged. Better to know now than after vows are given.

When they made it back to his place, Tyson's knee was aching badly. He really shouldn't have aggravated it by jogging. He spotted his west side neighbor, Mrs. Willowby, working on the flower bush by her gate. He recalled she preferred to be addressed by her first name. "Good afternoon, Barbara."

She looked at them approaching, and when she saw Christy at his side, her smile widened. "Good afternoon, Tyson. So good to see you outside with such beautiful company!"

He sighed as Barbara tended to mother-hen him. "This is Christy Taylor. She's attending university in town, and George sent her to me for tutoring in math. Christy, this is Barbara Willowby, my neighbor."

Christy shook hands with his neighbor, and they shared smiles.

"So good to hear you're teaching again!" Barbara gushed.

"He's an amazing teacher! He resolved the issue that was blocking my comprehension of the latest chapters, and now I have no doubts about passing my finals!" Christy said with equal enthusiasm.

Tyson gave both women a look of frustration as they beamed, admiring smiles back at him. "I'm not going back to teaching! This was a one-time thing. As a favor for George."

Barbara gave him a disapproving pout. "Now, that would be a shame! You have such a remarkable talent for it to go to waste..."

"That's my choice, isn't it," he asserted.

The ladies traded glances, and Tyson was done. "Have a good evening, Barbara," he said and turned to walk up his driveway. He heard Christy say her quiet goodbyes and rush to follow him.

He opened the front door and held it for Christy. He saw Barbara was still watching, so he waved before stepping inside. He locked the door and heard Christy sigh happily behind him. He turned and froze as her perfect breasts were no longer strapped down and hidden by her yoga bra.

"What? What are you doing?" he gasped.

She smiled as she purred, slowly rubbing the marks the elastic left on her skin. This had the effect of lifting and squeezing her tits in a highly suggestive way. His cock woke up quickly and began to press against the tight fabric of his running tights.

"I know it helps keep my girls in place, but it feels so much better taking the bra off!" she sighed.

"You can't—"

She moved closer, and his eyes were trapped by her swaying breasts, a slight sheen of perspiration making them shine.

"I think I can," she purred as she watched the bulge straining against his tights.

She took two more steps, her mouth was on his, and Tyson's mind went blank.

It had been so long since he'd felt soft lips on his and a wet tongue slipping teasingly into his mouth. Christy's firm breasts were pressed tightly against his chest, and only then did he realize how tightly he was holding her against him. He came back to his senses and tried to step away from the young woman.

"No!" Christy yelped insistently and dropped to her knees before him to tug his tights down to his ankles. His cock sprung out, and she grinned. "Oh, yes! That's more like it!" she gushed, then his cock was sliding deep into her hot mouth.

"Fuck!" Tyson cried out. He had no experience with this, as Imani had refused to give him oral sex, though she had no qualms about receiving it.

Christy was very enthusiastic and used her hands to stroke what she couldn't fit into her mouth.

This resulted in one critical problem for Tyson. It'd been more than five years since he'd had sex with someone else in the room. He wasn't going to last long— nope, not at all.

"Christy... Christy! It's too good! I'm gonna come!" he gasped.

She looked up at him with excited blue eyes and purred happily.

The extra vibration was all it took to push Tyson over the edge. "FFFFUUUUCCCCKKKK!!!!" he growled as he fired surge after surge of cum into the blonde's hot mouth. She swallowed quickly and licked him clean once his body was done. He pulled away because he was too sensitive.

Christy stood before him with a hungry look in her eyes. "Can you give as good as you get?"

He blinked at her, but he knew what she wanted. Did he want to do this? With her?

Now that she'd given him the most fantastic oral sex he'd ever had, he felt somewhat obligated to return the favor. Drinking in her sexy body with his eyes, he realized he really did want to, very much.

Not allowing himself to overthink this, he grabbed her hand, dragged her across the living room and into the master bedroom. He stopped next to the bed and pulled her to him once more to taste her lips and tongue. She moaned into his mouth as his hands slid down her back and over the slick fabric covering her ass. He squeezed her ass in his big hands, and her moans got louder and more urgent.

He pulled back from the kiss to drop to his knees before her. He slowly peeled her tights down her long svelte legs. He was stunned to see she only had a small patch of blond hair above the wet lips of her pussy. He glanced up and saw she was biting her lip nervously as she watched him.

"You are... so beautiful," Tyson sighed. Her nervousness disappeared, and she pulled his face towards her, eager to feel his mouth on her.

He grinned and gave her a little push instead. Her legs hit the bed, and she dropped back onto the mattress. He tugged her shoes and tights completely off as she pushed herself up on her elbows to pout at him. When his lips caressed the insides of her knees, her pout became a gasp, which became others, louder and more desperate as he touched, licked, and kissed his way up her inner thighs.

"Tyson! Oh, my god, Tyson! I need your mouth on me!" she begged as he got closer.

He pressed his lips to her mound, her hips came off the mattress, and she moaned with need.

He'd spent considerable time between his wife's legs, so he knew what Imani liked, but Christy seemed a little more sensitive, so he had to be less aggressive... for now.

When he sucked her lower lips into his mouth, she cried out and grabbed his hair in both hands. He stroked her opening with a finger as his tongue traveled its length. He listened to her sighs and coos, learning what she liked and didn't. When he slipped the wet digit into her while gently sucking on her clit, she cried out once more as her body arched up from the mattress. He rubbed the finger along the roof of her vagina until he found the little patch that sent her into convulsions. She tried to pull his head even tighter against her pussy as her cries climbed higher and higher.

"Oh, fuck! YES! YES! That's it! Fuck! OH! OH! Right there! AH! AH! AHHHH!"

Now, Tyson went for the prize. He slipped a second finger inside and turned up the aggression on his licking and sucking.

Christy's voice went silent as her orgasm stole her ability to do more than gasp for air. He felt her body quaking through intense pulses of muscle contractions and trembling. He slid his free hand up her tight stomach, cupped one of her beautiful breasts, and gently tugged on the stiff nipple.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! AAAAHHHH!" she screamed as her voice suddenly returned. Her hand landed atop his on her breast, and she squeezed it tight as she continued to crest through her release.

Finally, she pushed at his head, and he pulled back, sliding his fingers free. He sucked them clean as she watched him, panting and trembling through little after quakes. She flopped back on the mattress and closed her eyes as she came back down to earth.

He pushed himself up to his feet and watched her rest. A little voice in his head asked him what the FUCK he thought he was doing? Another moment of clarity bitch-slapped him, and he almost staggered from the abrupt mental redirect. He was no longer thinking with the little head, and the big head was pissed. She was practically a kid!

He'd never been promiscuous before; he wasn't even much of a flirt. Yet here he was, basking in the aftermath of a very satisfying orgasm from a beautiful young woman he'd known for mere hours, who was enjoying her afterglow as well. What made him break a lifelong behavior? It was true that she was beautiful and smart, but they were generations apart. They had nothing in common. Even their value systems were out of sync.

While it was true that he'd been alone for a little more than five years and was very much a widow, he was still wearing his wedding band. He didn't need to be faithful to his wife, as he no longer had one. That said, he felt vaguely guilty, like he'd broken some unspoken rule.

"What's wrong?"

He looked to the beauty who was leaning back on her elbows once more. His dick did a little lift seeing her spectacular breasts, but he suppressed his instincts.

"I... I don't know why I did that," he said, his heart feeling like a lump of cold stone in his chest.

"You're overthinking fun sex between two consenting adults," she answered and watched the lost expression on his face. "I think you're sexy hot, and your mind intrigues me. You think I'm sexy, yes?" She raised a delicate eyebrow at him.

"Definitely, and I think you're mentally intriguing, as well," he confessed, awkwardly.

She nodded with a smile. "That's all it needs to be. Just a hook-up, but an amazing one! No one has expectations, though I'd really like to see what you can do with that," she said, gesturing to his semi-hard erection.

He was still reeling from his behavior change, so he nodded shakily and made his way into the bathroom. He stepped into the shower stall and got the water running. He jumped slightly when he felt her hands on his back. He looked back at her, and she had a sexy little smile on her lips. He turned to face her to explain how bad an idea this was, and she kissed him again.

Fuck! Her mouth was addicting! He was suddenly kissing her hard and deep, and his hands were massaging her tits. He felt her squirm and gasp as he teased her nipples. He pulled back from her mouth and took a nipple between his lips. She cried out and pulled his face tighter against her tit.

Tyson needed her. Now.

He reached back and slapped the shower off, then released her nipple as he lifted her against himself. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he walked her out of the shower. He sat her on the towel he'd left on the vanity counter, then pulled her close to the edge. She was still very wet from before and from his actions just now, so his cock slid easily across her nether lips, becoming coated in her wetness. She reached between them and aimed the head against her opening. He pushed forward, and his cock began to slide inside.

He stopped with wide eyes. "Condom?"

"Pill, keep going!" she insisted, a look of intense concentration on her face.

It felt better than anything he could recall. She was hot and wet and tight! His resistance crumbled, and he was hers.

-=-

Christy was so fucking horny! His body was so hard and strong, and his need was so intense, she felt like she was caught up in his passion. She sighed at the exquisite sensation of his heat sinking deeper into her body. She leaned back against the mirror and caught sight of motion to the side. Turning her head to the right, she gasped as she saw a second mirror showing a side view of them fucking on the counter. Her eye widened as this was so sexy! She could see his cock driving into her.

She gasped when he grabbed her legs behind her knees and pushed them back, exposing her and giving him better access. He drove himself into her like a machine, and she felt her mind lifting away. She couldn't stop watching herself in that side view mirror as it heightened the impression of being outside of her body, watching someone else get the fucking of a lifetime.

Except she could feel it. Every powerful stroke. Every exquisite surge of bliss as their bodies collided with a slap. He was filling her and almost pulling free, faster, and faster. It was too much, too good, better than she'd ever had.

Then he got serious.

His muscles stood out in high detail as he doubled his speed. The slaps against her clit caused her to cry out, but instead of pushing him away, she clawed at him to go harder.

Her orgasm obliterated her mind as it sent bursts of lightning from her clit through every nerve in her body. Still, he pounded into her, and the sparks grew. She was losing her ability to do anything but absorb the bliss.

"Tyson... fuck... oh, fuck... too much... so good... fuck..." she managed to babble quietly.

Then he slammed himself deep one last time and ground his body against hers. He roared, and Christy felt his heat filling her. It was primal, and time seemed to pause. Her mind filled with a strange mix of bliss, surrender, wonder, and confidence as she felt so safe and desired. She shook her head as none of it made sense, but it seemed so incredibly important at that moment. Her head and emotions were so mixed up that all she could do was cling to his trembling body, pulling his face down to hers to gently kiss his lips.

But the kisses felt like promises she wasn't sure she should be giving, so she rested his forehead against hers.

-=-

Tyson felt the final bursts of pleasure slowly fading as he panted above the young woman. His muscles hummed with energy as they did after a particularly strenuous session, and he felt better than he had... since that night.

He pulled back gently, and Christy released her grip on his head. He lowered her arms to rest on her chest, where his eyes lingered for a moment.

He was still pinning her to the counter with his pelvis, so he carefully reduced the pressure and pulled himself free. She cried out and panted once he stood back. He saw her pussy lips were puffed up and red from the repeated slapping. He hoped he hadn't hurt her too badly. Looking at her face, she seemed truly out of it, so he carefully repositioned himself to pick her up in his arms. She sighed as her face came to rest against his shoulder.

Tyson carried her back out into the bedroom. His brain was screaming something at him. Something so familiar.

He laid her down on the bed, her hair spread out over the pillow, and her hands came up to pull him down to her lips. The kiss was hot, passionate, but tender as well. As he pulled back, his muscles began to shake. Her blue eyes looked up at him, a question in them as she felt his muscles trembling. His eyes were so wide.

Ashley.

Young as she'd been when they began their university careers. Just as lovely.

Why hadn't he seen it before?

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

He couldn't speak, so he just nodded. He needed air.

Tyson was standing on the lake's shore, the cool breeze off the lake bringing goosebumps to his naked skin. He wasn't sure how he got there.

"She really is beautiful."

That voice again.

His eyes glanced up to the sky, and dusk was just beginning to darken the heavens, so she was early.

He turned his head to the right, and Imani stood next to him, almost close enough to touch. He ached to do so but knew he couldn't.

The breeze was pushing her mane of hair back from her face, and she turned sad eyes toward him.

"The lake doesn't want you."

He took a step away from her, as her words felt like a slap.

"The woman inside does."

He shook his head in confusion, then turned his eyes to the glass patio doors. Inside, wrapped the comforter from his bed, was Christy.

"What do..." He looked back at Imani, but she wasn't there. That he'd tried to talk to her shook him more than he cared to acknowledge.

He shivered again, and his feet turned him from the dark waters. His legs carried him across the yard to the back yard, and his arms and hands opened the door to take him inside.

Worried blue eyes looked into his brown ones.

He felt pressure to confess and gave in. "She said the lake doesn't want me."

Soft hands touched his chest and felt the chill on his skin. Christy opened the comforter and pulled him inside the cocoon of heat, warming him with her body.

They stood face to face. "Who said that?" Christy asked.

He looked into her eyes and saw only warmth. He didn't want to answer, but something said everything was going to be okay.

"Imani."

She watched him as he watched her, and a little smile appeared on her lips.

"Smart lady. Can you tell me about her?" she asked as she drew him to the couch before the little wood stove.

He put another log into the heater then rejoined Christy under the quilt. He felt... lighter. More at peace. He was ready to talk.

And Christy listened.

Part 2

Chapter 5

Tyson Kane felt like a new man.

Actually, that felt like an exaggeration. He felt like a man with a new knee that was finally beginning to work without the constant ache. Without the reminder of his knee replacement operation, he had the impression of being a new man.

It also didn't hurt this illusion that he had a gorgeous young thing as his companion and bed warmer a few times a week.

Christy Taylor had a full schedule with her courses and her new part-time job. When she had free time, she'd come to visit him at his cottage on the lake. She'd spent a good deal of time with him since that day the previous year when she'd surprised him in his backyard. In that one day, she'd gone from stranger to student, to lover, and finally confidante.

For someone so young, she'd proven to be a force of nature. She made it possible for him to disclose what he'd been keeping to himself. The fact that he occasionally saw his dead wife at night.

Since that initial confession, he'd had fewer visits from Imani... but they hadn't stopped.

Christy put his mind at ease about talking to her about it when she said she believed it might mean he had some unresolved issues regarding his wife. Their parting had been so sudden, and they'd been mid-argument. This was a rational evaluation he could accept. If she'd mentioned a séance or anything occult, he would have sent her packing.

Tyson snorted at himself. Sure, he'd kick-to-the-curb a beautiful, sexy woman who rocked his world in bed a few times a week. As if an old guy like him had so many opportunities like this. She'd taught him some new tricks and positions, but for some reason, her favorite was being pounded on the bathroom counter.

He felt himself stiffening in his shorts, so he mentally wrestled his mind back to more innocent thoughts.

He turned in his driveway from walking the lakefront road, made his way directly to his backyard, and stopped at the lake's edge.

Truthfully, he'd come to crave Christy's company. He recognized that he'd become a recluse during the five years after the accident. While a fifty-nine-year-old man had little in common socially with a twenty-two-year-old woman, they found comfort in sharing their perspectives on current events, though their viewpoints were often significantly different. He was learning to actually listen to what she was saying, not what he thought she was saying, and she seemed to be learning the same for him.

They'd also discuss their daily activities. Or rather, she talked about hers as his remained rigidly the same, day-to-day.

The previous year, Christy had begun working on improving his living conditions, with small changes he could accept.

Over about a month, he discovered that she'd been inserting photos she'd taken of them into some of the frames scattered around his home. The original pictures showed him and Imani, or just Imani. Christy didn't replace all of them. Some of his favorite shots of Imani were still there, but not necessarily in the same places. There were also some with just Christy's smiling face. These were put in more prominent positions.

She also managed to get him to agree to a major change: knee surgery. She got him to the hospital, heavily tranquilized, and a few days later, they shipped him home, equally tranquilized.

Christy conspired with his neighbor, Barbara Willowby, to frequently check in on him during the initial weeks after the surgery.

Later, Tyson found photos of Barbara in some of the frames. He wasn't sure who swapped them out.

The recovery period for his knee was long, but pain was an old friend, so he pushed forward until he reached this day's result: six miles at a fast walking pace with negligible pain in his knee.

He'd asked his doctor when he could begin jogging again. The man asked him to sit still so he could strike his knee with a hammer and just get it over with. So jogging wasn't recommended by his doctor. The fast walk would have to do for now, but he needed something better.

The waves looked peaceful this morning. He'd already been in the lake earlier. It was still part of his daily routine to swim out and back once, except now, he didn't wait for the first signs of exhaustion before heading back.

Imani told him the lake didn't want him. Her words had frightened and shamed him, so he no longer tested his physical limits in the cold waters. These days, he'd reach the shore again just as the drag of exhaustion began.

He was no longer offering his life to the lake.

He sighed and turned his back on the beautiful blue waters, heading inside for his shower and breakfast.

After that, he'd do the other new thing Christy had introduced him to, checking in with his math nerd buddies on an Internet community discussion board. It had taken a couple of weeks to get past all the messages of surprise at his being alive, then condolences for the loss of his wife before anyone would just fucking talk about math! Now he had a few regulars with whom he kept in touch. It wasn't everyone else's dream of scintillating conversation, but he enjoyed it. He'd actually picked up some promising ideas he was rolling around in the back of his mind.

He smiled as he stepped inside. He had a morning routine to continue.

Chapter 6

Christy Taylor was having another of those moments of enlightenment. She was sitting in her Mercedes Benz C-Class Coupe in the coffee shop parking lot, letting the thoughts filter through her mind. She'd learned to give her brain time to absorb new ideas and viewpoints. It was another lesson from Tyson.

This morning she was grateful for so much, but not things. That was something else Tyson insisted upon for himself. No emotions related to people should be applied to inanimate objects. It diminished the significance of the sentiment.

He hadn't forced any of his personal philosophies on her. It was just how he decided to live his life, and these rules made sense to her as well.

She wasn't looking forward to telling Tyson she wouldn't be able to see him anymore because she was leaving town. She had an opportunity waiting for her in New York City. She'd be finishing her education there as well as starting her career at the headquarters of a prestigious fashion retailer. It was a step in the right direction.

She knew Tyson would be thrilled for her and very supportive. He'd try to hide how sad he'd be to see her go. She was still worried about him. He wasn't ready to be alone. He continued to be a prisoner to his mental blocks. He couldn't ride in a car and hadn't been able to even sit in hers in his driveway with the door open for more than a few minutes.

She sighed. She needed to find a new companion for him. Then she could leave with some peace of mind. She knew he could take Barbara in small doses, as he felt the woman was too controlling, and honestly, he was right. Barbara's maternal instinct was way too strong. Perhaps that was why her own kids visited so infrequently.

Christy went through her list of friends and tried to think of one who might be available to spend some time with Tyson to help him break free of his fears. Unfortunately, most had long-term boyfriends who weren't secure enough to let their girlfriends spend time with someone as hunky as Tyson. She squirmed a little in her seat as she recalled their last date night. Fuck, she was going to have a difficult time finding a new boyfriend who could fuck half as good as Tyson.

She pulled her mind from that and went back to her friends. There was Rachel who just broke up with Chris... after just getting back together with him for the great make-up sex. Yeah, that girl was trouble, and Tyson didn't need that. Neither did Chris, but if he took her back again, they deserved each other.

Jillian! She wasn't seeing anyone at the moment! She thought about their conversation about her last boyfriend and recalled Jillian had real daddy issues. Perhaps dating someone who could be her daddy would be tempting fate. Certainly, Jillian would enjoy it, but she knew Tyson would definitely have problems if she suddenly started calling him that in the throes of passion.

So Jillian was out.

Miranda was seeing Vince, but that was new, and Christy had a bad feeling about the boy. He was friends with Blake, and after having her eyes opened by Tyson, she now saw her ex-fiancé for the entitled little shit that he was. Vince wouldn't be much better.

She thought Miranda might actually be a good match for Tyson as her outgoing personality and her driven positivity might help push Tyson out of his shell. Christy's other friends found Miranda to be a little obnoxious and reckless. The truth was, she just suffered from a little social awkwardness. Nothing Tyson's patient nature couldn't deal with. He might even help her gain some confidence.

The woman was a second-generation American with Mexican heritage. She was a few inches shorter than Christy with lovely caramel skin, soulful brown eyes, lush, full lips, and long brown hair to just above her ass.

Miranda complained vehemently about her ass as it rounder than any of her white friends. It wasn't all fat either, as she had strong muscles in there from her dedication to her favorite sport, road cycling.

Compensating for her extra bodacious ass, her breasts easily fit under a man's hand. She was always lamenting Christy must have received Miranda's share as well as her own from the booby fairy.

This kind of outburst and how she clung to Christy's chest when she said it was just the kind of thing that made Christy's other friends uncomfortable. Christy just thought it was funny.

Just what Tyson needed.

She started her car and drove back toward her neighborhood but turned onto a side street just a block short of her own. Miranda Moreno lived with her parents in a lovely five-bedroom home a block away from Christy's parents' mansion. Miranda was the oldest child, but she had an eighteen-year-old brother, Raúl Jr., and a sixteen-year-old sister, Natalie. As a single child herself, Christy envied her friend having siblings, not that she'd told her own parents this.

Miranda's dad, Raúl Sr., was a very successful stockbroker, and her mom, Marie, had a thriving staging business. Christy heard from her friend that Raúl just got a new pickup truck for his eighteenth and was eager to ask Christy if she'd like to take a drive with him some night. Miranda hadn't been able to deliver that news without bursting into laughter at the look on Christy's face. Apparently, he considered himself to be a player.

She parked and walked up to the front door to ring the bell.

Moments later, Raúl Jr. was standing in the doorway with a delighted smile.

"Good morning, Christy! You look beautiful this morning," he said as smoothly as an eighteen-year-old could.

She gave him a knowing smile and a raised brow. "Good morning, Raúl. I think you should save that charm for your girlfriends."

"Christy! Ignore that fool and come on back to the kitchen!" Miranda's voice called out from the other room.

Raúl seemed to be lost in Christy's blue eyes and brilliant smile as he pondered the meaning of her comment. She could imagine him wondering if she thought he was hot enough to have multiple girlfriends.

She stepped around the muscular young man. He obviously spent time in the gym. Maybe that's where he picked up the toxic masculinity.

She walked into the kitchen, feeling his eyes on her ass the entire way.

"Junior, get your eyes off my friend's ass! Stop acting like such a stupid little shit!" Miranda snapped, and Christy's eyes went to her friend in concern.

"I'm not, and stop calling me Junior!" he barked back. When Christy looked at him, he tried to get his cool back. "Besides, ladies like it when a man shows appreciation for their bodies like that!"

Christy winced and shook her head to show him he was wrong, and he frowned in embarrassment. "I'll introduce you to a friend of mine who knows exactly how to treat a woman to make her feel special," she suggested.

Raúl's smile returned.

"Is this the mystery boyfriend you won't introduce your friends to? The perfect man?" Miranda said with a little more bite than intended.

Christy was immediately worried for her friend. She looked to Raúl. "Could we have the room?" she asked gently, and he began nodding as he could obviously see his big sister was distressed.

Miranda stood, grabbed Christy's hand, and looked to her brother. "Never mind, we'll go up to my room."

Christy followed her upstairs and into her femininely appointed room. Miranda closed the door, and her pretty brown eyes were suddenly filled with tears. Christy opened her arms, and Miranda crushed herself against her friend's chest as the tears began to fall.

"What happened?" Christy asked when the tears began to slow.

Miranda's sadness flared into anger. "Vince is a racist piece of shit!"

Christy wasn't surprised by the announcement, but she kept that from her face. "What did he do?"

"The day after we did it, he broke up with me in a text, then he posted a picture of us with the caption fucking a spic left me feeling greasy.

"What?" Christy gasped in outrage.

"The post was pulled eventually, but everyone had seen it by then. It was humiliating!" She burst into tears again.

Christy fumed silently as he held her friend. If she could get her hands on a screen capture of the page before the post had been removed, and she knew exactly which of her friends to ask for it, she'd see that the Dean got it and took steps. Getting Vince ejected from the university for this smear campaign would be a good start. She'd make it happen!

Miranda got her composure back and pulled back from her friend with a look of determination on her lovely face. "That's it! Until I graduate, no more dating. There are no worthy men in this university!"

Christy gave her a hopeful smile. "Does that mean you might be available to look in on a friend of mine from time to time?"

Miranda blotted her eyes with a tissue and looked at Christy in confusion. "A friend?"

"Tyson Kane."

Miranda's confusion grew. "Wait... I know that name."

Christy sighed. "The train terrorists."

"Yes! That's right! He stopped the train— oh! His wife died, and he was badly injured. You've been nursing him back to health?" Miranda gasped.

An image of Tyson sucking on her nipples flashed in her mind, and her cheeks flushed. "N-not exactly. He was mostly healed by the time I went to him for tutoring in math." She shook her head to get back on track. "He did lose his wife in the accident, which he barely survived, himself. He was also severely traumatized by the event and still has anxiety issues. I've been trying to get him to come into town, but he can't sit inside a car. He had to be heavily tranquilized for me to bring him in for knee replacement surgery."

Miranda stared at her in surprise. This was an entirely different side to her friend she hadn't seen. A huge smile burst onto her face.

"What?" Christy asked cautiously.

"You continue to surprise me, Ms. Taylor!" she giggled happily.

Christy shook her head in confusion.

"Your selflessness is such an inspir—"

"Whoa! Don't be strapping angel wings on my back! I went there to get him to help me with my math class. He is a phenomenal teacher! In just one day, he resolved all the issues I had. Of course, I was grateful! I wanted to help him in return. He's... he's a really great man!"

Miranda just smiled and nodded with a smug little smile on her face.

Christy cleared her throat and gave her friend a hopeful look. "You know I'm going to be leaving soon. I would feel so much better knowing someone was checking in on him a few times a week."

"Get him out on his feet, walking around?" Miranda suggested.

Christy nodded. "He swims in the lake in the morning and goes for a six-mile walk after that. He also works out in his home gym."

Miranda gave him an impressed look. "So, he understands the importance of physical therapy."

Christy smiled. "Oh, yes."

"Sure, I can do that. Where is he?" Miranda said, and Christy pulled her into a hug as she cheered.

"Give me your cell, and I'll add his details," Christy said. Miranda handed it over as Christy pulled up the information on her cell.

"He lives on the lakefront road? Lucky man! Who'd he kill to get that house?" Miranda asked with a grin.

Christy gave her a weary look. "The leases on the homes there are handed down through the family, so he inherited it from his parents when they passed on." She finished adding Tyson's information into Miranda's cell.

Miranda looked suitably apologetic for the crass question.

Christy's cell pinged from a text she quickly read. "Ah! It's my mom! I was supposed to join her and my aunt at the club. I have to go." She hammered out a quick reply saying she was almost there. Then she grabbed Miranda's arms and looked into her eyes. "Listen, I'm sorry about Vince. He's an idiot, and there will be consequences for him. Also, I really appreciate you checking in with Tyson. You won't regret it. He's amazing!"

She leaped to her feet and rushed downstairs as she had to make it across town in five minutes.

That was easy peasy when you drive a rocket.

-=-

Miranda looked at her fleeing friend in surprise. She wondered what amazing things were happening in her life now.

She wasn't jealous of her friend. Well, not too much, at least.

She looked at the address on her cell and decided she'd ride her bicycle on the new trail to visit him tomorrow.

Miranda had heard the story of the two students who decided to burn down the town and how they met their end at a train crossing when their stolen engine hit Tyson Kane's car, killing his wife.

Curious, she grabbed her tablet and pulled up the story of the night. She followed some links and was eventually reading about the man himself.

"Shit! He's a big one," she muttered when she looked at the photo of the thick professor at some university event. His arm was around a slim woman, making him look even larger. The woman was a real beauty whose skin was similarly toned as hers. Tyson appeared very happy. Losing this woman must have been hard for the math nerd.

If Christy thought he was a nice man, Miranda was looking forward to meeting him. She giggled happily as he looked like a big teddy bear.

She could use a hug after the shit Vince put her through.

Chapter 7

The lake water felt warmer than usual as Tyson cut through the small ripples with a steady stroke. His endurance kept improving, and he thought he was getting a little farther across the lake each time before he turned back. He was cautious not to overindulge the idea of continuing. He had so little body fat, so he had to keep moving, or he'd sink.

He glanced upwards and saw beautiful blue skies, so they were in for a lovely day. He decided he'd get in a little sunbathing.

Turning back, he spotted Barbara's home with its rooftop deck and caught the glint of sun on the lenses of her binoculars. Ever the protective momma bear, Barbara had been keeping an eye on him for years. Watching him struggle to make it back to shore in the years before Imani told him to stop.

NO! It was Christy's presence that made him realize he had something to live for.

Imani is dead. Hallucinations aside, she no longer existed.

It was Christy that brought to his attention to the fact that Barbara had taken on the role of sentinel and silent support. The young woman told him about hearing his neighbor's quiet words of encouragement the morning she first saw him stagger out of the water.

So, his neighbor had a clear view into his backyard from her roof platform and had a pair of binoculars. He continued to cut through the water strongly as he thought about that. He sighed internally.

Tyson wasn't about to change his personal habits for his neighbor. He swam nude, and he sunbathed nude. That wasn't changing. He would just continue ignoring the possibility of peeping... Barbaras.

He felt the waters warming further and knew he was reaching the shallow water near the shore. The swim was over. Tyson wasn't exhausted at all! He got his feet under himself and stood in the thigh-deep water, glancing back at the lake as he sucked air into his lungs to feed his hungry muscles. He'd swim further tomorrow. He turned around to look at his home. He truly loved his little haven.

The morning sun felt good, so he turned his face to it with eyes closed and ran his hands over his head to squeeze the water out of his hair and realized how long it was getting. The tight black curls had grown in length to the point where he was beginning to resemble Imani. He walked forward out of the water and up onto his lawn. He stretched his arms up over his head and bent side to side.

A sharp shriek popped his eyes open, and he saw a pretty young thing staring at him wide-eyed, with her hands over her mouth. She was wearing a brightly colored skin-tight outfit, which he barely caught a glimpse of before she spun and disappeared up the path beside his house.

He would either have to add a lock to the gate or get a more prominent Private sign!

-=-

Miranda raced her bicycle along the winding country road-turned recreational pathway as her mind raced ahead. What had she just seen?!?

Finally, she pulled over at a small rest area with benches and pulled her water bottle from the bike as she took a seat.

Christy said nothing of Tyson's family living with him. Maybe a cousin? She was sure she'd read that he was an only child so that hunk of manliness she'd just witnessed completely NAKED wasn't a younger brother. She'd managed to pick up a family resemblance before her eyes refused to focus on anything but his nudity. The shriek caught her by surprise, too.

She patted her cheeks to snap herself out of her daze. It was going to take some time to get that vision out of her mind.

Climbing back on her bicycle, she got herself moving again. She'd have to speak to Christy about her request, as there appeared to be a complication. A sexy one.

-=-

"Good morning, Tyson!" Christy greeted him when she called after her breakfast.

"Hey, Christy! How are you this fine day!" he replied.

She grinned, hearing the happiness in his voice. Then she recalled the purpose of her call, and her smile dimmed a little. "I was wondering if I could come to see you this afternoon."

"Of course! You know I'll clear my busy schedule for you," he joked weakly. "Will you be staying for dinner?" His voice was casual, but she detected a little hope. Her heart twisted.

"Not today," she said

"That's cool. Listen, do you recall your first visit to my home?" he asked.

The change in direction caught her by surprise, but her grin returned. "Like I could forget that sight!"

He chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Well, I had another young lady intruder in my backyard this morning, and this one shrieked and ran away."

Christy thought he sounded a little worried. "What did she look like?" she asked, sure she knew who it was.

"She had her hands over her lower face, but she had pretty brown eyes, long brown hair in a braid, and she was wearing something skin tight with odd-looking shoes."

"Ah, yes. That was a friend of mine, Miranda Moreno. She's a cyclist and rides her bike out on the country roads for fun. I mentioned to her that we were friends and I visited you at your place at the lake. I didn't know she'd drop by today."

"You mentioned us to her?" Tyson asked, and she heard the unspoken question.

"Just that we were friends. I was discreet," she said with a smile.

"Then I messed up the first impression," he sighed.

Christy couldn't stop her giggles. "I wouldn't say you messed up."

"You didn't scream."

Her giggles turned into laughter. "True, but that was because I went on the offense instead. I recall demanding you prove you were who you said you were.

He chuckled at the memory. "Right. You're a tough cookie."

"I'll have a talk with her. It'll be fine. She was likely just surprised," Christy assured him.

"So, should I get a lock for the gate or a bigger private sign?" he asked.

"Is that what that sign says? I thought it said, this way to see privates!" she said and burst into giggles.

He chuckled. "All right, all right, Ms. Smarty Pants Girl. I'll see you this afternoon. Bye."

"Bye!"

Christy hung up and immediately headed to her car. She needed to speak to Miranda.

She could probably have walked, but Christy knew of a few places she could be if she wasn't home.

When she pressed the doorbell, Raúl Jr. answered it and gave her another delighted smile.

"Two days in a row! It's feast or famine with you!" he teased.

She gave him a smile as she had to give him credit. That line was pretty smooth.

"Looking for Miranda," she replied sweetly.

He sighed theatrically. "One day, I dream you will call on me."

She grinned at him and raised a brow. "Not today."

Raúl stepped back and gestured for her to go upstairs. "She's returned from her ride. She's in her bedroom."

Christy smiled and climbed the stairs, once more feeling his eyes on her. "Staring at my ass just pushes your dream farther away."

She heard him make a frustrated sound, then she was facing her friend's bedroom door. She knocked. "Miranda? It's me, Christy."

She heard a muted squeak and some thumping as something was dropping to the floor.

"One second!" Miranda called out from behind the door.

Christy waited and did her best not to imagine the source of the odd buzzing noise inside.

The door opened, and Miranda stepped out into the hall. Christy noticed her face was flushed.

"Why don't we go sit on the patio? It's a lovely day outside!" she asked quickly.

Christy could still hear something angrily buzzing away inside. "Are you sure you don't need to turn that off first?" she asked cautiously.

Miranda's shoulders slumped, and she sighed. "Okay... can you help me move the bed?"

They went inside and pulled the bed away from the wall so Miranda could collect the personal massager, which had somehow fallen between the mattress and wall. She shut it off and tucked it in the drawer of her bedside table.

After they pushed the bed back, they sat and faced each other. Miranda's face looked like it might ignite.

"I understand you had an interesting visit out at Tyson's this morning," Christy began.

Miranda's eyes widened alarmingly. "You didn't tell me Tyson had family living with him! Nudist family at that!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, you saw him naked?" Christy said with a big grin on her face. She was rather enjoying this.

"Saw him!?! He walked out of the lake like some kind of celestial being who just splashed down on his comet! He's gorgeous!" Miranda sighed. "Who is he? Tyson's younger cousin?"

Christy laughed joyfully, and Miranda couldn't help but grin at the happy sound.

"Miranda... that was Tyson."

The lovely brunette's smile was replaced by a puzzled look. "No, Mr. Kane is almost sixty. This man couldn't have been more than mid-forties, maybe late thirties!"

"Tyson lives alone. The man you saw walk out of the lake was him. He swims every day." She took a breath and reached out to take Miranda's hand in hers. "Listen, he put himself through hell after the accident. He might have even been trying to kill himself with exercise. He lost all the extra weight while building and hardening his muscles. He's still incredibly driven with his workouts."

Miranda was staring at Christy with a dawning realization in her eyes. "It's him! He's your mystery boyfriend!" she gasped.

Christy smiled softly. "Boyfriend is not the correct term. He'd my good friend, and I'm his, but there's no romantic love involved."

"But, you're having sex with him!"

Christy's smile burst across her face as she nodded. "Tyson's incredible in bed!"

Miranda squealed excitedly as Christy confirmed her guess.

Christy held up her hands to calm her friend. "That information is not for sharing. It wasn't something Tyson was looking for. He was almost a shut-in when we first met. He didn't want me in his backyard. He didn't want to tutor me. He didn't want to let me join him for his afternoon walk. We wouldn't have had sex had I not decided I wanted him and pursued him so aggressively. He had a real problem with our age difference. It wasn't as much of an issue for me as he's so damn sexy!"

Miranda thought about Christy's request for her to look in on Tyson. "Were you expecting me to have sex with Tyson as well?"

Christy looked at her in shock. "No! Oh, my god, no! I just wanted someone to help keep Tyson from slipping back into his shell. He needs external contact, someone to talk with face to face. Once you get to know him, if you decided you'd like to begin a physical relationship, you'll need to work that out with him. As I said, he's wonderful, but if I hadn't forced the issue, it would never have happened. He's a gentleman." She smiled fondly.

Miranda nodded as she thought about everything she'd learned. She knew it was too soon after Vince for her to look for another boyfriend, and seriously, she could use a break from dating. Having a man to talk to might be nice!

An idea popped into her head of something else that would be really nice!

"You said he's hardcore into working out, yes?" she asked.

Christy nodded, so Miranda jumped off the bed to pull her friend after her. They rushed downstairs and out into the backyard to run over to the large two-story garage at the end of their driveway. Slipping inside, Miranda led Christy upstairs into the loft, where they saw several older, used bicycles hanging from the rafters. She turned and faced her blonde friend.

"We can fix up one of these old bikes for him, and he can join me on my bike rides!" Miranda gushed excitedly.

Christy was struck by the brilliance of the idea but not its execution. None of the bicycles would likely fit Tyson. He'd probably bend them into a pretzel if he went all out on them.

However, getting him a new bicycle, something his size and strong enough to handle his strength, was a stroke of genius. Not only would it give him exercise, it wasn't a car, but it gave him the means to leave the little cocoon of his neighborhood! It also gave Miranda an incentive to hang around with him as well.

"Miranda, you are a genius, but you need to think bigger. Can you take me to a bike shop, the best one, like right now?" she asked with a trembling voice.

The brunette picked up the excitement and nodded quickly. "I know just where to go!"

-=-

Tyson heard the crunch of car tires on the gravel of his driveway and smiled. Christy was here.

When the second set of crunch sounds began, he turned to the front door. A second car?

He checked the oven, and all was good, so he headed over to the door to open it.

Parked in the spot furthest from the door was Christy's sporty white coupe. She was getting out and watching him with a big grin on her face.

In the spot closest to the house, a blue pickup was coming to a halt. In the passenger window, he saw the pretty brunette who surprised him this morning. She was looking at him with wide eyes and a nervous smile.

The truck's engine went silent, and the lovely brunette stepped out. She had on a new tight-fitting outfit but sneakers on her feet this time.

On the other side of the pickup was a tall, good-looking young man with a complexion that matched the brunette. He was watching him with an amused smile as Tyson stood on his steps wearing an apron, shorts that were probably not currently visible, and sandals.

"Do you greet all your visitors, only wearing an apron?" Christy called out, joy in her voice.

He lifted the apron to flash his shorts at Christy, and the brunette squeaked in surprise as she likely thought he was naked underneath.

"You know I don't get any visitors aside from you and George. Besides, I was baking cookies," he explained.

By this time, Christy was standing next to the other woman. "Tyson, this is my good friend Miranda Moreno, and this handsome young man is her brother, Raúl Jr."

Tyson instantly picked up Raúl was pleased to be referred to as handsome but far less delighted to have young and junior linked to his introduction.

"Hello, Miranda, Raúl." He got a bright smile from Miranda and a pleased smile from the young man, but his expression still showed amusement. He didn't approve of seeing a man in an apron, perhaps?

"I'm terribly sorry I entered your backyard this morning without permission," Miranda said earnestly.

Tyson waved a hand dismissively. "Would you like a freshly baked shortbread cookie?"

"Ooo! The sexy man is luring us into his abode with the promise of sweets. What could go wrong?" Christy teased and stepped forward with her arm through Miranda's. Tyson stood back and held the door for his guests.

The ladies stepped through the door, and Raúl stopped just inside with an annoyed look on his face. As Christy showed Miranda around, he looked back at Tyson as he closed the door. Tyson raised a questioning brow to him.

"How can she call you sexy when you're dressed for woman's work?" the young man stated scornfully.

"Woman's work? Who sold you that load of crap and called it gold?" Tyson said with a grin as he walked past him into the kitchen. He picked up a cookie, still warm from the oven, and handed it to Raúl. The man took a bite and nodded appreciatively as it melted in his mouth with a gentle crunch. Tyson smiled and offered the plate of cookies to the ladies who each took one.

"Oh, this is so good!" Christy purred as she approached. "Thank you for the sweets." She pressed herself against his chest and offered her lips to him. He was a little self-conscious about the show of affection, but Christy's lips were highly addictive, so he kissed her until she purred again and pushed back.

Raúl was staring at her in shock.

"What? He's a gentleman, a master in the kitchen, keeps a neat home, and is sexy as hell," Christy explained.

"Those are a woman's tas—" Raúl began heatedly.

"Seriously, where are you getting these idiotic ideas that professions, or work of any kind, should be gender-based? I thought I was the one with outdated values. You make me feel young in comparison."

Raúl stared at him. "How-how old are you?"

"Fifty-nine."

"What!?!" Raúl's face whipped around to look at Christy. "You're fu—dating an abuelo?"

Tyson looked to Miranda, who was still staring at him. "What's that?"

"Grandfather," she said softly.

Tyson wanted to be angry, but he kind of agreed with Raúl. Why Christy was so attracted to him was still something of a mystery to him. He shrugged.

"I may be old enough to be one, but I have no children or grandkids. That ship sailed years ago," he said sadly.

Raúl wasn't finished. He turned to Christy again, who just watched him with a slight smile. "I don't understand. I'm strong, and as you said, handsome. What does this man have that I do not!"

"I can bake cookies," Tyson offered with a smile. "Hey! I'll teach you how to make chocolate chip cookies. Ladies love them, and the fact that you made them will win you major points."

"My friends at the gym would laugh me out of the building!" Raúl insisted hotly.

Christy shared a sad look with Miranda. "I think we found the source of Raúl's toxic masculinity."

"Toxic?!? Being masculine isn't toxic!" he snapped.

"No, but combined with the chauvinistic attitude you present to women, it is. You're smart. You can do better," Christy said bluntly.

Raúl looked back at Tyson. "Okay, you will teach me how to make cookies," The ladies perked up, perhaps sensing an improvement in his attitude. "...if you beat me in arm wrestling."

Tyson blinked at the young man, confident in his youth and strength. Desperate to demonstrate his worthiness as a mate for Christy. He sighed as he looked at Raúl's powerful arms. This was likely going to hurt... but he was old friends with pain.

"Okay, fine," Tyson said and pulled his apron off over his head. Now, Raúl got to see his opponent's torso. He looked a little put out. "You can take your shirt off if that will make you feel better," Tyson suggested. In a moment, Raúl was topless, too. He wasn't as broad-chested as Tyson, but he was all long smooth muscles. Christy nodded her approval, and Raúl's smile was confidence exemplified.

Tyson moved to the kitchen island and braced his elbow there. Raúl locked hands with him, and they gripped their left hands on the countertop.

Christy placed her hand on top of theirs and nodded to each. "When I lift my hand, you start. Ready?" They nodded. "Go!"

Tyson immediately felt the strain in his hand, arm, shoulder, and back. Raúl was very strong, but he was overconfident.

Looking deeply into the younger man's eyes, Tyson smiled and began to really push. The pain grew, but still, he loaded on the pressure.

The confident look in Raúl's eyes began to change to surprise, then worry.

Tyson's smile turned feral as his eyes held the boy's. "Arm wrestling is more than just pitting your strength against your opponent's. It's also about how much pain you can endure. How much pain have you experienced in your short life, Raúl?"

The younger man shook his head and winced as Tyson's grip tightened.

"Are you ready to get serious?" Tyson asked quietly, and Raúl tried to hide his surprise as his arm began to be forced back.

When he was bent back at a forty-five-degree angle, he yelped and jumped away from the counter, releasing Tyson's hand. Raúl shook his hand to bring circulation back to it.

"Shit! For an abuelo, you're a strong motherfucker!" he exclaimed.

"Raúl!" Miranda scolded, but Tyson just laughed.

Christy smirked at the teacher. "How many arm-wrestling matches have you won?"

Tyson smiled self-consciously as he massaged his arm. "That was the first time I've ever done that! Maybe the last. The kid's got some guns on him!"

Raúl looked at him in surprise and with more than a little pride.

"Shit! Don't tell him that! It goes right to his head," Miranda lamented.

Tyson shook his head as he grinned at the younger man. "Come on, let's get started on the cookies. Put your shirt back on." He pulled his apron back on.

Raúl pulled his shirt on and frowned. "I have a hard time taking you seriously when you wear that!"

"I'll grant you that it looked far more attractive on my wife, but if you've ever tried to cook bacon shirtless, you'll understand." He fixed his eyes on the boy. "Never try it naked." That pulled a wince and a laugh from the others. "Besides, you know what it takes for a man to wear one of these comfortably?"

The younger man didn't want to look foolish, but it was clear he had no idea where Tyson was going with this.

"Confidence. Women respond to that. Don't mistake it for bravado or arrogance. Confidence is being comfortable in your own skin. Understanding it isn't what's on the outside that makes you a man."

Raúl smiled and nodded.

"Let's make cookies."

Christy and Miranda sat at the counter and watched the two men create chocolate chip cookies from scratch. Tyson only instructed and made Raúl do all of the actual work.

When they came out of the oven and had cooled sufficiently to try them, the ladies cheered for Raúl's first and successful attempt at baking.

Raúl smiled at Tyson as he basked in the glow of Christy's praise. "What do you do?"

Tyson shook his head. "I'm retired."

"Yeah, but what did you do before?" the younger man insisted.

Tyson sighed. "Math teacher."

"No, shit? You're a math nerd?" Raúl said with a chuckle.

Christy walked from her chair on the other side of the island to drape herself against Tyson's side as she looked to the younger man. "Certified, genius-level match nerd," she purred.

Tyson chuckled and gave her a sweet kiss. "You say the nicest things." He looked to Raúl, who was still having some difficulty with Christy showing affection to him.

"If you're some kind of Einstein, why aren't you teaching?" Raúl said belligerently.

Tyson's smile drained away. "People keep telling me that, and I keep telling them I'm retired."

"He's got PTSD, dummy!" Miranda snapped. Raúl glanced at him in surprise.

Tyson gave the brunette a sharp look then turned his eyes to Christy. "You've been talking about me with others?" he asked stiffly.

Christy held his eye and nodded. "Miranda had a brilliant idea, and we're here to see it through."

Tyson was thrown off balance by her bold assertion when he was expecting defensiveness. "Idea?"

"Come outside!" Christy said with a wide grin, and once more, Tyson was forced to comply with her enthusiasm. Miranda was at their backs with a huge grin on her face as well. Her brother followed, frowning.

When they were all in the driveway again, Raúl pulled back the tarp he had over the contents of the pickup's cargo bed. He spotted a road bicycle. The fat tubed frame was a satin silver with fluorescent yellow/green accent stripes and had black rims and wheels. Raúl lifted it out, and Miranda collected it from him. She and Christy walked it over to him. Raúl pulled back another blanket then lifted another bicycle from the cargo area.

Tyson's attention went back to the two ladies turning the silver bike so he could see it broadside.

"Christy bought you a bicycle!" Miranda cheered.

Tyson's eyes went to the gorgeous blonde, and his mouth dropped open. She bit her lip anxiously, so he closed his mouth as his eyes returned to the sleek machine. "It's beautiful! It looks fast, just sitting still," he managed.

"Do you know how to ride a bicycle?" Raúl asked, and the two ladies' faces dropped as the thought suddenly occurred to them that he might not.

Tyson couldn't suppress his chuckles at their expressions. He smiled over at Raúl. "Yes, I do, though it's been some time since I last did, and I don't see the gear shifters on this one."

Miranda was breathing a sigh of relief as she quickly pointed out the brake levers doubled as gear shifters.

Tyson took Christy's hand and looked her in the face. "Thank you. This was exceptionally generous of you." He took in the sleek bike once more.

"It's not a car. It doesn't feel like one. It doesn't move like one. The controls are different. You get exercise while riding it. You can travel greater distances much faster than walking. Getting into town is now possible," Christy said. "I was stuck on the idea of getting you back into a car when Miranda suggested a bicycle. She's an avid cyclist, so she had a different perspective on the issue. I truly hope you don't mind that I discussed this with her."

Tyson was watching Christy and could see she was working herself up—

Oh.

It suddenly made sense why she was doing this, now. She was leaving. They'd talked about it, as a future thing, something not to be concerned about now. It seemed the future was impatient for her.

He glanced at the other two. "Can you give us a moment?" When Miranda nodded, he gently led Christy off to the side.

"When do you leave?" he asked gently.

She sucked in a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. "E-end of next week."

He nodded, but his gut clenched inside. "This is a big opportunity?"

She nodded as her lashes filled with tears.

"Hey. No tears. We knew this day would come, and there is nothing to cry about. We're good friends and always will be. You have me in your corner rooting for you in whatever you choose to do." He glanced over at Miranda as another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

"Did you arrange to have your friend take over looking after me?" he asked.

Christy sniffed. "It's more that you can take care of each other. My other friends will likely stop connecting with her once I'm not there as the social glue. They don't get her as I do, and she makes them uncomfortable. She has no one else as she's a little awkward with people. She could use a friend who can boost her confidence. She also has terrible judgment when it comes to boyfriends and has been burned a few times recently." She sighed. "She cycles alone, and I don't like that. She should be with other cyclists. Could you ride with her from time to time? I hope you like the bicycle!"

He felt better that he wasn't a charity case. "I love the bicycle! Thank you so much! I will definitely ride it, and if it can spring me from my prison, all the better."

"Good! Because I have more presents!" she exclaimed and rushed over to her car. She pulled a couple of bags from the trunk and dashed back to him.

In one of the bags was a bike helmet. It was satin black plastic with many vent holes. A few stripes of the same yellow/green on the bike decorated the sides of the helmet. He also saw black fingerless cycling gloves with padding on the palms.

"Is this going to fit me on top of all this damn hair?" he asked. "Maybe I should get it cut back to the original short length I had—"

"NO!" Christy and Miranda exclaimed, then burst into laughter.

Christy recovered first. "Your hair is gorgeous and really suits your new look! Leave it long! Please!" she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

He sighed. Pushing his hair back, he managed to get the helmet on, but his hair was bunched up on his back.

Miranda came forward and gathered the hair into a bundle. "You should tie it back before putting the helmet on."

"Right, got it." He realized she was still holding his hair. "You can let go now," he said with a smile.

She flashed him an embarrassed smile and stepped back.

Next, Christy pulled black bike shorts, black ankle socks, and a black cycling jersey from the shopping bag. She held out the jersey to him, and he held it up by the shoulders.

Tyson burst into delighted laughter as the shirt was black as a blackboard with math formulae printed all over it, looking like chalk scribbles. "A math nerd cycling shirt? This is awesome!"

Christy and Miranda were beaming with happiness. "Go put them on!" Christy asked.

"Nothing goes on under the cycling pants," Miranda insisted, then her face went red.

He pulled the helmet off, leaving it with Miranda, and carried the clothes with him into the house.

In his bedroom, he stripped off his shorts and tugged on the bike shorts. They clung to him like a second skin. The padding between his legs felt like he was wearing a diaper. He pulled the jersey on, and again, it felt clingy but didn't restrict his movement.

He looked in the dresser mirror at his hair. It truly was as long as Imani's had been. He walked to her dresser and opened the top right drawer. Inside were Imani's hair scrunchies. He grabbed a random one, white, and did his best to pull his hair back to bind it in the elasticized hair tie. He looked in the mirror. Good enough.

At the front door, the new socks went on then he put on his sneakers. He didn't have the funky shoes Miranda had.

Walking outside, he heard Christy's wolf whistle.

"The pants could be a little less tight," he complained.

"No, they're perfect!" Christy purred. She joined him at the base of his stairs. She patted his chest as she looked at how well he filled out the jersey. "Listen, I have to go, but I'd like to come by this weekend. Saturday afternoon and leave Sunday afternoon?"

He smiled. "Sure. That would be nice." He knew it would likely be the last time they would be together, so he'd prepare her a nice meal... and ensure the counter by the bathroom sink was clear.

Christy pressed her soft, hot, and hungry mouth to his, and he lost himself in the kiss for a moment. Raúl made a noise of frustration, and Tyson came back to himself. He eased Christy back, and she smiled at him before moving to speak to Miranda. Moments later, Christy was giggling and skipping past Raúl on her way to her car.

As the white coupe pulled out of his driveway, Tyson looked over to Miranda and saw the girl was watching him with wide eyes. Well, she wasn't exactly watching his face as her eyes were aimed much lower. He didn't need to look to know his excitement from kissing Christy was probably showing against the front of the tight shorts. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax.

"I've got stuff to do as well. You staying here, sis?" Raúl asked impatiently.

"Yes, I'm going to ensure Tyson's bicycle is set up properly for him. Maybe we can go for a ride?" she said, looking at him hopefully. He nodded, and her grin widened.

"Nice meeting you, Raúl," Tyson said with a wave.

The young man smiled and nodded. "Yeah, it was nice meeting you. Take care."

Miranda and Tyson watched Raúl drive out of the gravel lot, then walked over to the two bicycles.

"You don't have cleated shoes yet, so they installed basic platform pedals which will work with your runners. You should look into cycling shoes soon and get cleated pedals as they provide a much better power transfer experience."

She had him sit on the saddle as he leaned against the house. She raised the seat, slid it back slightly, and tightened it all up.

"When you get the new shoes and pedals, you can fine-tune the positioning again. For now, this is good." She looked at him, and he nodded as it felt good.

"Would you like to go for a ride now?" she asked.

"Sure. Just let me lock up the house."

Tyson went inside and grabbed his wallet, keys, and cell phone. He discovered the jersey had a pocket on his lower back, so he tucked his items went into these once he'd locked up.

He got the helmet on easier now that his hair was being controlled. The gloves went on last, and he thought he looked pretty cool in his new duds.

As they walked the bikes across the gravel to the road, Tyson grinned self-consciously at Miranda. "I used to ride bicycles constantly throughout my childhood, and once I was attending the universities in Europe, everyone rode bicycles, so I got into it again. But it's been decades since I've ridden one. This looks a little daunting."

"Why don't we just get used to the gearing and the brakes as we slowly roll east along the road," she suggested.

He nodded and swung his leg over the frame.

It didn't take Tyson too long to find his balance on the new bicycle as it rolled so smoothly, and the steering was very relaxed. Miranda offered suggestions for operating the gears most efficiently based on the conditions and the grade. He got the hang of shifting and, more importantly, the brakes. He knew enough to not get thrown over the handlebars.

They continued east along the lakefront road, picking up speed until they were racing along. It all felt so natural to him!

Christy had been right. Cycling was so different from driving; it didn't trigger his PTSD at all. He loved it!

In almost no time, they reached the end of the road where the newly paved road into town began. He looked at Miranda's hopeful expression, took a deep breath, and nodded. She grinned happily and turned left, heading north on the road. He swung in behind her and found himself watching her firm round ass in her cycling pants. He looked away in embarrassment and spotted the new cycling/hiking path approaching.

"Are we going to take the trail or stay on the road?" he asked.

"Would you mind if we stayed on the road?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"Either is fine with me," he offered.

"Road, then."

Seeing no traffic on the trail, they rode over the slight bump and continued riding on the straight road.

The smooth pavement rolled by under their wheels, and they talked as they rode, which was mostly her talking about organized rides she's been in. She mentioned she didn't ride competitively but loved the camaraderie of group rides. She'd tried joining the local cycling club but discovered they were a bunch of elite snobs.

Miranda looked at him, hopefully again. "I'm hoping you'll learn to love cycling enough to maybe begin a cycling group with me."

He chuckled. "So far, so good! This is awesome!" Her answering smile was dazzling.

Tyson finally noticed the little square object fastened to her helmet. His didn't have that. "What's on your helmet?"

"Oh! It's a video camera. I sometimes record my rides," she said.

"Is it on now?"

"No, I always ask before recording someone. I wasn't sure if you'd mind," she said shyly.

"If you want to record, go ahead," he replied.

She grinned at him. "This section is so flat and straight, I'll hold off on recording until we get to the return. We'll be riding on the original country road, which is much more interesting.

Tyson thought about that road and recalled the last time he'd been on it. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach as he contemplated the return stretch. He pulled his mind back to ride, and he took comfort in how the experience of cycling was so different from driving. That calmed the butterflies considerably. He actually began to look forward to how the bike would feel on that rolling and twisting road.

Tyson noticed they were entering the outskirts of the town, and he felt a brief thrill to acknowledge he was doing it without being heavily sedated as he had been the last time. Of course, his purpose for coming in was for surgery, so that had been grim.

He looked around, and he didn't recognize some of the storefronts. The area had been given a facelift, and gentrification was at work in this neighborhood. That wasn't always for the better—

"Hey! An ice cream shop!" he exclaimed.

Hearing his delight, Miranda unclipped from her pedals, slowed to a stop, and dismounted. She walked her bike over to the outdoor tables as Tyson rushed to join her.

"My treat!" Tyson said with a grin. "What would you like?"

"A single scoop of chocolate, thank you," she said with a smile as she sat at one of the tables. They had the patio to themselves.

Grinning excitedly, Tyson propped his bicycle against a table and hustled away to enter the shop.

-=-

Miranda was tingling with excitement. Tyson really seemed to be enjoying the ride, which spelled good things for her plan to start up a cycling group! She'd be happy even if the group ended up just being the two of them.

Thinking of the two of them alone, Christy's last comment to her suddenly popped into her head. He really did that to her on the bathroom counter?

More tingles shot through her, but these started a warmth down below. She hadn't had sex for a while, and counting Vince, she hadn't had great sex... ever.

Motion at the curb caught her eye. Blake Carlington was parking his BMW 4 Series convertible. She saw him looking to see if she was alone, and her skin crawled. She turned on her helmet cam as a precaution.

"Where's Christy?" he called out bluntly.

Miranda never liked Blake as he gave her creepy leers like Vince had after he'd had sex with her.

"I don't know where she is," she replied with a neutral tone.

"My buddy at the bike shop just told me Christy dropped a lot of money on a silver Cannondale racing bike, and here it is," he said. He climbed out of his car to approach. "Once more, this proves what a lying skank you are. First, the stories about Vince and now this."

He reached a hand out to touch the bike.

"Don't. That's not for you to touch. Just like you're not allowed to touch Christy."

She saw Blake's rage flare as he glared at her.

"You better watch your spic mouth when you're talking to your betters. Maybe I should shut it for you." He moved closer to her, and she suddenly wished she had better control over her tongue.

"Hey! Take a step back, right now."

Tyson's deep voice cut through the tense silence, and Miranda felt immediate relief wash through her trembling muscles.

"Mind your own fucking business-oh!" Blake growled as he turned to see the big man approaching. He staggered back a few steps from Miranda as she watched him take in the muscles on the approaching man. Strangely, the two small ice cream cones in Tyson's big hands just made him more intimidating. Knowing he was a math nerd and almost sixty only made it funnier. She managed not to laugh, but her grin was wide as she accepted the chocolate ice cream cone from him.

She watched Blake's expression as the facts lined up in his mind. She watched the blond man taking in Tyson's cycling gear and the new bicycle. Her smile became wicked.

"Who the fuck are you?" Blake blustered at Tyson.

"Who the fuck are you?" Tyson growled back as he took a lick of his melting vanilla ice cream.

"That's Blake... Christy's ex-fiancé." Miranda said gleefully.

"Ohhhh..." Tyson said, and Miranda knew the dots were connecting. His body language was changing as he faced off against the younger suitor. He took another lick of his ice cream.

Blake was looking between Tyson and the expensive bicycle Christy had purchased earlier... for him?

"Who are you?" Blake asked again.

"Tyson Kane."

"Christy's lover," Miranda said excitedly.

Tyson looked at her and shook his head to get her to be quiet. He frowned at his melting treat and ran his tongue around it while Miranda watched in fascination.

Blake's expression showed his disgust as he looked Tyson up and down. "She left me for you?"

"No. Her reasons for ending the engagement had nothing to do with me," Tyson growled.

Miranda snorted. "Christy seems much happier now than she ever did with Blake."

Tyson looked at Miranda in frustration. "You're not helping."

Miranda's eyes widened in fear as she saw Blake leap at Tyson while his attention was focused on her.

Tyson's right hand shot out, blindly jabbing towards Blake, slamming his ice cream cone up the man's nose and into his eyes.

Blake staggered back, blinded by the frozen dessert. While Tyson leaned away and watched him cautiously, Blake threw a few wild punches in his blinded state and managed a solid strike against a light pole. The audible snap of breaking bones in his hand made Miranda and Tyson wince. Blake stopped swinging and howled in agony.

"That's broken. I'll call you an ambulance," Tyson sighed, pulling his cell out and making the call.

Once he hung up, he asked Miranda to get some napkins from the shop.

When she stepped outside, a police car arrived. She handed some napkins to Blake, sitting at one of the tables, nursing his broken hand. The rest of the napkins went to Tyson to clean the ice cream from his hand.

Miranda went to her helmet cam and shut off the recording. She popped the chip, put it into her cell phone, and copied the movie to it.

Two officers walked up to their group. "Someone called 911?"

Tyson went to speak when Blake blurted out, "I was attacked!"

Miranda leaped to her feet, and Tyson placed a finger on her lips before turning to the police. He handed them his ID.

"I called 911. Mr. Carlington was upset by something Ms. Moreno said about my relationship with his ex-fiancée, Christy Taylor. He decided to get physical—"

"LIAR! This b-bastard hit me in the face with his ice cream. I had to defend myself!" Blake insisted, then immediately realized how stupid that sounded.

The officer holding Tyson's ID smiled at him. "I'd never have recognized you. You look totally different from the guy I found in the ditch six years ago."

Tyson froze and looked at the man in surprise.

"Officer Patricks. I was the guy who spotted you in the ditch, all busted up and bloody. Seems you healed pretty well!" the man gushed and handed the ID back.

Miranda could see Tyson was having some difficulty responding, then he nodded with a stiff smile.

"Yes. It took some time, but yes. Thank you, Officer Patricks," Tyson said and shook the man's hand. His partner was wearing a grin on his face as well.

Miranda saw the sick look on Blake's face as he realized how he wasn't going to have his way this time. She smiled as she had just the thing to make his day even worse. "Would you like to see what actually happened?" she asked the officers.

Everyone looked at her. She pointed to the camera on her bike helmet. "I recorded it."

Blake looked a little green.

Miranda smiles sweetly at the officers. "The video recording begins when Blake pulled up to the curb."

She looked at Blake, who was squinting at her through bleary eyes. "Yes, I recorded all your racist comments, and I'll be going to the station tomorrow to press charges for the threats you made to me."

She especially enjoyed the look of panic on his face.

What a lovely day!

-=-

Tyson watched the look of deep satisfaction on Miranda's face. She really didn't like Blake.

"Will you be pressing charges, Mr. Kane?" Officer Patrick asked, drawing his attention back.

He really didn't have the energy to follow through with charges. "No. I thought the ice cream in the face would have been enough to cool the hothead down. His punching the light post is enough justice for me. I hope he learned something from the experience." Tyson said with a sigh.

He saw Miranda give Officer Patrick's partner the memory card from the camera. She inserted a spare into the camera for their return journey.

After saying their goodbyes, Tyson watched the police guide Blake to the ambulance, which had just arrived. Tyson went into the ice cream shop to wash his hands.

When he returned, he looked at Miranda. "Are you ready to continue?"

She nodded happily.

The ride through downtown was eye-opening for Tyson. There must have been a modernization project as the street lights looked new and the roads were newly paved and painted. Many of the buildings had been given a facelift, as well. The core had undergone a revitalization.

Considering this was the real estate that would have been destroyed if the two students had completed their mission, he wondered why the town council had restored and reinvigorated the tired and abandoned business district. Maybe the national attention by the press forced their hand. The money had likely been destined for their pockets, instead, so this was doubly pleasing.

Regardless, he was delighted to see new life here and young people, students from the local university, enjoying themselves among the unique boutique shops and fancy coffee houses.

They drew closer to the university, and Tyson realized the ride from his place to these buildings wasn't long or difficult at all. The idea of future visits to George suddenly popped into his mind. He slowed, and Miranda looked at him curiously.

"Do you think it would be okay if I just popped my head in to say hello to George?" he asked.

She beamed him a smile. "That sounds like a good idea. What building?"

"Uh, six years ago, the math department was in the Clement Hall Building," he said uncertainly.

"It's still there." She rode across the campus and dismounted at the bench outside the building.

Miranda gestured for him to lay his bike down on the grass next to hers. "I'll watch the bikes. Take as much time as you need," she said as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

He put his helmet on the bike, then Tyson made his way up the steps to the big double doors leading into the building. At the top, he paused to look down at himself. Dressed in cycling gear wasn't the classiest way to enter his old workplace. He took a deep breath and sighed. He was retired. He didn't have to impress anyone. He pulled the door open and walked inside.

The admin offices were just to the right. George's office was behind that, but Tyson wasn't staff anymore, so he'd just ask the office staff to check on his availability. He pulled the door open and stopped at the counter, seeing two young women look over at him. "We don't take courier deliveries in this office," one said.

He snorted in amusement. "I'm not a courier. I'm looking for George Haley. I-I'm an old friend. Is he in?" He heard the office door open behind him but focused on the young woman approaching the counter. She was looking at him suspiciously.

"I'll need a name," she insisted.

"Tyson Kane."

There was a squeak to his right, and books landed with a thump. He turned to see an older woman gaping back at him. Five-foot-nothing in one-inch-heeled sensible shoes. Her standard simple tan blouse under a brown sweater above a brown skirt. She was still a slim, grey-haired pixie of a woman with startling green eyes. His memory bubbled her name up from the back of his mind. Gail Sampson. George's personal secretary. She'd worked with George since he'd arrived at the university.

"Tyson?" she said with a shaky voice.

He smiled. "Hello, Gail."

"Oh, my god! Tyson!" she wailed as she rushed forward to pull him into a hug. He glanced down at her in surprise before wrapping his arms around her, too. He glanced over at the two office girls who were staring at him in shock.

Gail pushed back the smile up at him. "You found a way to leave your home and come to the university!"

He glanced at the two women listening in, then smiled down at her. "Yes, well, not me. One of the students, Miranda Moreno, had the idea I might be okay cycling instead of using a car. It worked. Here I am." He looked around. "I'm still having a little trouble believing I'm here."

"You have to see George!" Gail said excitedly.

He nodded. "Is he in his office? I'd like to say hello."

"No, he's in a class. Come with me," the woman insisted.

Tyson hesitated. "I don't want to disturb him or his class."

Green eyes locked on his as she pushed the office door open. "George would never forgive me if I didn't bring you to see him immediately."

She led him up the staircase at the end of the hall to the third floor. The door for the third classroom on the right side of the corridor was closed, and Tyson tried to stop Gail, but she just made a scolding noise, rapped her knuckles on the door twice, then pulled it open.

George Haley was standing before his desk at the front of the class with a frustrated look on his face. His wild mop of white hair looked like he'd been pulling it, again. He turned his head to the door and froze when he saw who was standing there. The math text slipped from his fingers to hit the floor with a bang.

Gail gently pushed Tyson forward until he stepped into the room. He felt the eyes of the eighteen students turn his way.

"You're here! How?" George gasped.

"A student, Miranda Moreno, suggested if I couldn't travel in a car, I might be able to do it on a bicycle." He gestured to the classroom. "It seems I can," he said humbly.

"Can't travel in a car? Lame," a student voiced.

"MR. PHILLIPS! You are one second away from failing my class. You either apologize for your stunning lack of empathy or get the FUCK OUT OF MY CLASSROOM!" George raged as his eyes bored into the wide eyes of the stunned young man.

"George, it's okay. Being young and stupid isn't a crime, nor is it terminal. There's always hope," Tyson said as he stepped closer to his friend.

"Apologize," George growled quietly.

"I'm sorry," young Mr. Phillips said quickly.

Tyson watched his friend, who seemed like he was finally settling down. "I'm sorry. I didn't come here to disturb you in the classroom. I just finally managed to make it into town without being sedated, and I thought I would visit you since you visited me so many times," Tyson explained.

"It is a wondrous thing, and I thank you for sharing this achievement with me!" He stepped forward to take Tyson's hands between his.

"Mr. Haley? Can you introduce us to your friend?" said a pretty, raven-haired woman with a pixie cut in the front row. Tyson could almost feel her eyes undressing him.

George released Tyson's hands to beam a happy smile to the woman under his thick mustache. "I certainly will, Ms. Dewitt." He turned to put a hand on Tyson's back and turned him to the students. "This is my good friend, Tyson Kane."

A few faces registered surprise. They were the ones aware of the events of six years ago. Ms. Dewitt seemed to be one of them.

"The same Tyson Kane who stopped the terr—"

"Yes. But more significant than that, he's Tyson Kane, the math genius!"

Tyson grinned at his friend's enthusiasm but shook his head.

Seeing the doubt on the faces of the gathered students, George looked to the clock. "Okay, there are twenty minutes left in the class. How many of you are still confused by the current chapter?"

All hands went up, and the professor scowled, then looked desperately at Tyson. "I've made a mess of this. Can you help them?"

Tyson leaned back slightly from the man then looked at the curious expressions on the young faces. He wasn't even aware that he was moving to the front of the class until George placed the textbook he'd dropped earlier into his hands. He looked down at the page and saw what they were studying. He needed to understand their issue, so he began to ask them individually where their difficulties were. When he'd captured enough information, he made everyone stand and hold their hands outstretched before them, shake them and blow rude raspberries to clear their minds of their preconceived notions. He demonstrated the gesture, and after the initial laughter, he managed to get sixteen of the eighteen students to copy him. Mr. Phillips and the boy next to him didn't play along. He turned his attention to them.

"Mr. Phillips and...?" he asked, looking to the embarrassed man.

"Mr. Kent?" the young man mumbled.

Tyson nodded. "Mr. Phillips and Mr. Kent. You need to clear your mind. It doesn't matter what gesture you use to do it as long as it is outrageously different from what you've done so far. How about doing this?" He suddenly struck a bodybuilder pose and grunted aggressively—more laughter from the class. Mr. Kent was right there and mimicked him perfectly, so Tyson clapped. Mr. Phillips gave a weak effort, which was all they were going to get from him, so Tyson just nodded.

"Great! Now that we're all fresh and new, let me tell you a little story," Tyson exclaimed.

Twelve minutes later, the students were filing out of the room, chattering excitedly, and Tyson leaned back against the desk, feeling a warmth filling him he'd thought was long gone.

Ms. Dewitt stopped before him. "Thank you for dropping by today. We all feel far better now that we understand. If you wanted to drop by more often, we would love to have you. I would love to have you." She gave him a coy look and joined the others leaving the room. She smiled at him over her shoulder as she stepped outside.

George had a broad satisfied smile on his lips, and Gail leaned back against the wall by the door with the same smile.

Tyson pulled his mind back from the not-so-subtle invitation. "Thank you for the opportunity to dip my toe into the pool again. That was fun!"

George shook his head. "Fun! He says it was fun! Did you see how frustrated I was when you arrived? This material isn't fun unless you are passionate about the subject matter. From you, it's a love story! From me, it's hard work. No one wants to listen to me, but you had every one of those students craving each word."

"Not Mr. Phillips."

George sighed. "No, not him. He arrived with the chip on his shoulder that he can't see past."

Tyson nodded. "You can't help them if they don't want it." He looked at George and Gail. "I missed you guys."

Gail stepped closer. "We missed you, too! The students missed you, as well. They've been listening to George berating them for too long. They need you to come back!"

Tyson looked at her in surprise. "I-I was just stepping in to help George. This one time. I'm retired."

"You did me a wonderful favor, and I deeply appreciate it," George said, patting him on the arm. "But you can't tell me you didn't feel it; the thrill of the connection, the joy of reaching their minds, the reward of helping them learn. You are a teacher. Math is your passion. Teaching is as natural as breathing for you. The students have never left my classes as pumped and excited from my lessons as they did for you in twenty minutes. I'm passionate about physics, and the faculty has me covering these math classes. They could be yours again, and everyone would benefit."

George stopped when he could see Tyson was going to argue, so he held up his hands. "We are perhaps over-excited by the possibilities your new mobility and freedom have made possible. Sleep on it, and know you are always welcome to visit. I believe Ms. Dewitt indicated other things would be welcome too."

"George Haley!" Gail scolded.

"I'm just sayin'!" George replied with a grin and a shrug.

Tyson hugged the man then gave Gail a hug as well, which she accepted with a big smile. "I should get going as I left Miranda waiting out front with the bikes."

"Ah! We must go with you so we can thank her personally," George exclaimed, and Gail nodded in agreement.

Tyson led his friends downstairs and out the front doors to meet Miranda, who stood as they approached. Gail moved forward and gave the surprised girl a hug, closely followed by one from George.

"Thank you so much for helping Tyson find a way to escape his isolation," George gushed.

"Oh! Ah... It wasn't anything special, and I didn't do it completely selflessly. I was hoping he would enjoy cycling enough to want to join me for rides," she confessed.

Gail patted her hand. "It was still your idea to try an alternative way for him to get to town. None of us thought of it, and George has been visiting him for years." She cast an annoyed look at the man, who shrugged.

George watched Tyson put on his helmet then looked at the bicycle. His bushy eyebrows rose. "That is a beautiful machine! What does something like this cost?

Tyson blinked and looked at Miranda. She was looking like she wanted to be elsewhere. "How much did Christy spend on the bicycle?" he asked.

Brown eyes looked up into his. "Six thousand," she said quietly.

"What?" Tyson gasped.

Miranda bit her lip and looked at him nervously.

Tyson scowled. "I'm going to have a talk with her."

George put his hand on Tyson's arm. "The price is negligible compared to the value of your freedom."

Tyson looked at his friend for a moment, then nodded stiffly. "We should go. It was great seeing you two again. I'll come back for more visits."

"Think about what we said, too," Gail remarked, and he gave her a stiff nod as well.

They got back on their bicycles and waved to George and Gail as they rode away from the campus.

The route they followed with the new signage took them to the western edge of town, where the winding country lane began. The entrance was blocked to vehicular traffic, but they rode between the metal posts.

They picked up their pace, and Tyson began to smile once more as the bike swept up and down the rolling hills and took the corners so well. He had to admit it was a finely crafted and balanced machine. He still thought six thousand was far too much for Christy to spend on a bicycle for him. He was going to insist that she allow him to pay for some, if not most, of the cost of the bike. There was such a thing as being too generous.

On a straight section, he glanced over at Miranda and saw she was watching him.

"Are you mad at us?" she asked.

"No. Your hearts were in the right place. I'm sure I could have ridden a bicycle that cost under a thousand dollars and enjoyed it almost as much as I am this feat of engineering." He sighed. He really was enjoying the ride.

"So, does this mean you'll continue to go on rides with me?" Miranda asked.

He smiled as he saw the road turn up a small slope ahead. "Yes. Definitely, I'd like to go on some more rides with you. This is wonderful!"

Miranda squealed happily, then shot ahead with a giggle. He lifted himself from the saddle to give chase.

He felt like a kid again, and that felt good.

Chapter 8

Devon Wilson walked through the hospital's emergency ward in a funk. Once, the Chief Surgeon lit up a room when he entered it, and the nurses all looked forward to his rotation through the ward. Now, they avoided him.

He couldn't really blame them. He knew these days his patience was short and his temper shorter.

Two officers were waiting with a young man whose body language screamed white privilege. Devon couldn't wholly relate, but he knew about growing up wealthy. His parents had been affluent, and he certainly hadn't wanted for anything. He'd attended the best private schools and went to the most prestigious medical college. He was a member of the best athletics clubs and moved in the circles of society's wealthiest members.

His union with Cecily had been a political one, and it ended badly. He vowed off marriage once they were officially divorced, though, for one woman, he would have gratefully jumped back in with both feet.

But it wasn't to be.

With a sigh, he grabbed the chart for the patient and approached them. One glance at the sheet on the clipboard and how the young man was holding his right hand told him everything he needed to know. It indicated he'd been sent for x-rays when he first arrived. He'd confirm the results on the terminal once he spoke to the patient.

The three men looked at him as he arrived. "Hello, Mr. Carlington. I see you've damaged your right hand. Can you tell me how you did that?"

"I punched it against something hard," was the brief reply.

"Something or someone? If the police are here, there is usually someone else involved," Devon said.

"I was aiming for someone, defending myself against him, and I punched a light post," Blake mumbled.

Devon looked to the officers. "Was the other man injured in any way."

"No, Mr. Kane managed to avoid the wild punch. Mr. Carlington was lucky Tyson didn't take offense and decide to throw some punches of his own. Guy's built like a tank!"

Devon was blinking as his head began to throb. "Did-did you say, Tyson Kane?"

The officer nodded.

"I'd been told he was badly injured, an invalid, confined to his house with an emotional disorder," Devon mumbled in shock.

The cop barked a laugh. "I don't know anything about the last thing, but he certainly didn't look injured to me. He was riding bicycles with a hottie and looking pretty happy about—HEY!"

Devon stormed away from them and dropped the patient file on the nurse's station as the pain in his head spiked. Kane was cycling with some slut? NO!

He left the building, climbed into his Porsche Carrera, and raced from the parking lot. He quickly passed through town and was speeding along the new road heading south to the lake. He was able to open up the engine on the straight and smooth, less traveled road, and the scenery flashed by.

Turning onto the lakefront road, he had to swerve to avoid a young woman on a bicycle. It was probably the slut who was riding with Kane. He flipped her the bird out the window, then raced away down the road.

He knew precisely where Tyson lived. He'd been there once before.

Devon pulled into the gravel drive and got out of his car. He marched up to the door, his thoughts in wild disarray. He wasn't sure what he would say or do, but he needed to see for himself if what the police officers said was true. He thumped his fist on the door, and it opened.

He stood there, staring at the man gaping back at him. He wasn't crippled. He wasn't wasting away as he should have been. FUCK! He looked like he was in better shape than Devon!

"Wilson? What the fuck—"

Tyson lost his breath as Devon hit him in the solar plexus with everything he had, knocking him back into the living room, then hit him again and again with every move he knew that caused crippling pain. He wanted Kane to suffer.

When he returned to his senses, he was standing over Tyson, breathing hard, and his hands hurt so much. Kane's body was hard from solid, dense muscle and bone, no fat. Devon had broken the small fingers on both of his hands from striking Tyson's body with the attacks he'd learned in his martial arts training, something he'd never used on another soul... until today.

He scowled down at the stunned man on the floor, wondering how he'd survived the accident that took Imani from him.

"Why are you still alive?" Devon growled.

Tyson blinked up at him. "You beat me up. You didn't kill me."

"NO! WHY DIDN'T THE TRAIN KILL YOU, TOO!" Devon raged, spittle flying from his lip.

Tyson paused as pain flared. "I don't know. Sometimes... I wish it had."

Devon hit Tyson again and pulled his hand back as he hissed in pain.

Tyson blinked as he pushed the pain back and looked up at the surgeon. "Pretty fucking stupid for a doctor to hurt his hands like this."

Devon glared down at him. "You're right, but I forgot, you're the fucking genius, aren't you." Then he drove his foot into Tyson's side with a vicious kick.

He was rewarded by a groan from the man, then something heavy landed on his back and tore at his face. He spun, and the female cyclist flew off to land on the sofa with a thump.

Devon tentatively touched his face and winced. His fingers were coated in blood when he pulled them back. "You fucking bitch! What did you do to my face?" He took a step towards the cowering woman when something clamped on his ankle with bruising force. He screamed in pain as the grip tightened.

"Miranda! GO!" Tyson shouted, and she jumped off the couch and raced out the open front door.

Devon kicked at Tyson again, but he blocked it with his arms as he let go of Devon's ankle. He turned to the door to catch that slut who scratched him.

"She told me."

Devon stopped as the quiet words rang in his head. He turned to see Tyson watching him from the floor, his face bloody, but his eyes locked on Devon's.

"She told you? She told you what? Did she say we had an affair?" Devon asked quietly as his blood began to boil.

Tyson just watched him, eyes silently judging him.

"I FUCKING LOVED HER! I WOULD HAVE BEEN A BETTER HUSBAND THAN THE FAT SLOB YOU WERE BACK THEN!" Devon screamed.

"I-I loved her..." Tyson said.

"You should have shown it better than you did, or she wouldn't have turned to me for sex!" Devon snapped.

Something in Tyson's eyes told Devon he hadn't known. He'd been bluffing, and now he was hearing proof for the first time. "Fuck. You really didn't know," he sighed in disgust. Well... fine. He wanted Tyson to hurt like he was hurting.

"The first time was in Indianapolis. After the convention, we went to the bar and got drunk. Imani followed me back to my room, and she gave me a blowjob. She wasn't too good, but even then, I was captivated by her. She wouldn't let me have sex with her, but I was able to eat her pussy. Then she left."

He smiled at the pain he saw in Tyson's eyes, so he continued.

"Imani was a little stand-offish at work for a while, but at the San Francisco convention, she went to my room with me, and this time she wasn't drunk. Her hands were all over me. She was much better at swallowing my cock and my cum when I fired it down her throat. Again, she refused to fuck, but I knew it was just a matter of time."

Tears ran down Tyson's face now, and Devon felt a wave of vengeful joy pass through him.

"We'd meet at every opportunity, and eventually, I fell in love with her." He began to pace. "Finally, I had to have her, completely, heart and soul, not just her mouth. I came here to beg her to divorce you. I told her I wanted to marry her and make her happy every day." Devon's joy evaporated as quickly as I arrived. "You know what she told me? She wouldn't because she loved you! Isn't that fucking ridiculous? She loved you, but she'd suck my cock on the side? How is that love?"

He frowned as images of their last liaison flashed through his mind. "I knew if we made love, she'd see we were meant for each other." He panted with tension. "So, I took her. On your bed. I fucked her... so hard. She screamed when she came. I felt her squeezing my cock so tight." He was gasping as his chest tightened. "After, she told me to leave. She said she wouldn't press charges if I left." He shook his head. "She should have loved me," he mumbled. "That night, you went to the party..."

Devon turned to give Tyson another kick to the ribs. Instead, his head snapped back as a big fist crushed the cartilage of his nose. The fist hit him again, and he felt something break in his face, and a light flashed. He opened his unaffected eye and saw Tyson falling to his knees, his fury-driven energy exhausted. Devon smiled as he was going to make Tyson pay for those hits.

When the big fist drove his balls up into his body, he squealed as his eyes rolled back, and he dropped to the floor, unconscious.

-=-

Tyson rocked on his knees, exhaustion pulling at his mind, but he needed to... there was something he needed to do.

Red and blue lights lit up his open door, and he had nothing left. He slumped back to the floor, unconscious before he landed.

Chapter 9

Tyson woke in a hospital bed in dim lighting, and his anxiety spiked as he tried to recall if he'd ever left the hospital after the accident. His time sense was fucked, and his mind was right back to the night after.

Except, the pain had been worse then, much, much worse.

The physical pain he felt at the moment was a mere shadow of his earlier agony.

The mental anguish... he didn't know how to deal with what was going through his head. Devon's confession had taken him by surprise, and the knife of pain it caused was still deeply embedded in his heart.

Every. Breath. Hurt.

"I'm sorry, Sugar. I'm so sorry."

He couldn't deal with her now. He closed his eyes and went through his equations, but this time when he opened them, she was still there, looking too lovely to bear. He turned his face away.

"Go away," he said quietly.

"I can't—"

"WHY?" he yelled.

That question resonated in his mind. He needed answers he knew he would never get, certainly not from a figment of his own mind.

"Mr. Kane? Are you awake?"

He looked towards the door, and a nurse was entering with a look of concern on her face.

He realized he had tears running down his face and tried to reach for the box of tissues. The woman handed it to him. Once his face was dry again, he nodded to her. "Yes... thank you. Sorry for yelling."

She gave him a sad smile. "It's okay. You've had a hard day."

He smiled weakly at her. "It wasn't all bad. I rediscovered the joy of cycling. I saw my friends at the university. Okay, the ending sucked." He shifted on the bed. "Wilson didn't break any of my bones, did he?"

"No, from what I understand, you only have bruises. A lot of them, but nothing serious. They're only keeping you in for the night because you were unconscious when they brought you in." She glanced at the doorway then smiled back at him. "Dr. Wilson has broken bones in both hands, a broken orbital, and his nose will need full reconstruction. His face is also very badly scratched. He looks a mess. Not sure what happened to his groin, but I saw a lot of uncomfortable faces on the other male doctors."

Tyson's expression dropped. "Wilson raped my wife."

The nurse gasped. "How do you know?"

His expression remained grim. "He was boasting. He didn't understand how that didn't make her love him."

Tyson felt the gentle touch of a tissue on his cheek. Was he crying again? He reached up and tried to dry them, but they kept coming, then he couldn't stop them.

The nurse stayed with him until exhaustion pulled him under once more.

-=-

The next morning. Tyson was sitting in a wheelchair at the hospital's exit, arguing with the admin staff, who insisted he get a drive home. He insisted he couldn't do that.

He grew more agitated until Miranda appeared at his elbow. He looked up at her in relief.

"It's okay, we have him now," the young woman said to the office worker and gestured over her shoulder. Raúl was visible sitting in his pickup in the drive. The clerk nodded and left.

Tyson looked at Miranda with a troubled expression. "I can't—"

She patted his shoulder. "I know. How much pain are you in?"

He blinked at her. "I'm sore, but I can walk."

"If you're well enough to walk, you can ride your bicycle," she said and guided him outside.

Raúl was taking Tyson's bike out of the back of the truck.

Tyson smiled gratefully at Miranda and got a brilliant smile from her. Then he was puzzled. "How did you get my bike out of my house?"

"After the ambulances took you and Wilson away, I used your keys from the counter to lock the house. Raúl picked me up and brought me to the hospital, but they wouldn't let me see you. This morning, I called to find out when you'd be released. We picked up your bike, helmet, and gloves from your place and locked up again."

Miranda took his hand in hers. "When he drove past me on the road, he almost hit me, and he was so angry. I had a bad feeling, so I rode back and found him standing over you. I didn't think before I attacked him. He tossed me off and was going to beat me, too, when you stopped him. When you told me to run, I only went as far as the driveway, where I called the police. He didn't follow, so I went back to the door and listened as I waited for the police. I gave the police a statement after you were taken away, and I told them everything I heard."

Tyson held her eyes. "The police know he raped her?" Miranda nodded, and after a moment, Tyson made a single stiff nod.

He put on his gloves and helmet as Raúl got Miranda's bike from the truck, too. The brother waved to them and drove off.

Tyson eased himself onto the bike and took some breaths to calm his shaky muscles. Aside from some aches from his bruising, he thought he was okay. He followed Miranda out of the driveway and across town to the entrance of the path to the lake. He loved the familiar road and was grateful they could take their time and not worry about cars.

Miranda was satisfied to just ride in silence with him.

Soon enough, they reached the lakefront road and stopped before his driveway.

"Thank you so much for bringing the bicycle to the hospital. I wasn't looking forward to walking all the way home." He held his hand out for his keys.

"My bag's inside," she said.

"Your bag?" he asked.

"I spoke with Christy and filled her in on everything that's happened. We both agree that you shouldn't be alone tonight. She's still out of town, so I'm going to do it."

Tyson frowned. "I've been alone for six years. I don't need—"

"You know it's different now. I wish I could have been there with you last night. You shouldn't have had to deal with that news alone," Miranda said gently, and Tyson caught himself sucking in a deep breath as his chest tightened. She saw him do it, so she touched his arm as she walked her bicycle past him to the front door. She pulled the keys from her pocket and let herself inside. She leaned her bike up against the wall next to the door as Tyson came inside with his bike and put it next to hers.

"You don't have a garage. Is this where you'll keep your bicycle?" Miranda asked.

Tyson was still feeling a little cross at being bossed around by Christy and Miranda, so he just nodded tersely. "For now." He marched across the living room to his bedroom and grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before going into the bathroom and closing the door. He peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower. He wanted to wash the hospital funk from his body.

The spray stung his bruises, and he hissed painfully, but he pushed through it and washed his hair and body clean.

Tyson's muscles were trembling when he shut the water off and stepped out. He leaned against the counter and tried to catch his breath. Between his beating the night before, his disturbed sleep, and pushing himself to ride home, his body was saying enough. He tried to pull his shorts on but dropped them instead.

"Shit!"

The bathroom door opened, and Miranda was looking at him in concern.

"Haven't you heard of knocking?" he growled with a shaky voice.

"You moaned all through your shower, and I can see you're about to fall down. Come on, you've done enough today. Besides, I've seen you naked," she insisted.

She moved next to him, put her arm around his back, and had him put his arm over her shoulder.

Miranda walked him out of the bathroom and over to his bed. "You look exhausted, so I want you to get a little rest."

Tyson wanted to argue, but he knew she was right.

"Do you want something for the pain," she asked as she pulled the sheets down.

"No. I'm tired of feeling drugged," he muttered as his fatigue quickly caught up to him.

He slipped under the covers slowly, easing himself down, feeling every bruise demand some attention, then he sighed as he rested back on the pillow. His eyes were already closing when he felt soft lips pressed against his forehead. He managed to force his eyes lids open enough to glance up at the blushing face of the brunette standing next to him, then he let sleep take him.

She woke him later to feed him some dinner: soup, and a slice of bread, then he slipped under again.

When he woke again, the house was dark, and he felt warmth in the bed next to him. He saw dark hair spread across the pillow next to his and Miranda's sweet face as she slept.

He eased himself out of bed, stifling the groans from his aching muscles. He silently left the bedroom and closed the door. He walked over to the patio doors facing his backyard and stared at the dark lake beyond. The moon was giving just enough light to make out the end of his property where the water began.

"The lake doesn't want you."

He sighed as he'd known his mind would dredge her up. He had questions he wanted to ask but knew he'd only get back what he already knew. Still, he felt the need to voice them. He glanced to his right, and Imani was standing next to him in her silk nightie. So beautiful. So sad. He looked back to the lake. He didn't want to see her sorrow, as he was the one hurting.

"It seems you didn't need me either," he said quietly.

"I always needed you," Imani's voice protested gently.

"But I wasn't enough."

"I was greedy."

Tyson's eyebrows rose. He hadn't been expecting that response. As he thought about Imani's behavior at the hospital faculty parties, he recognized she enjoyed the attention she received from the men she worked with, so he understood that he could have interpreted that as greed.

"And I wasn't physically attractive. You wanted that, too. You wanted to be with him," he forced out.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Yet you sucked his cock, again and again! Something you refused to do with me," he spat. He had an epiphany. "Is that why you didn't do it with me?"

"Yes," she said quietly, her shame evident in her tone.

He shook his head viciously. His brain was taking liberties. He couldn't know if she'd been ashamed. Maybe she'd only be sorry that she got caught. After all, she'd never confessed.

He recalled her words in the car that night. The anger and the sharpness of her tongue as she accused him, him, of infidelity.

"Hypocrite," he snapped.

"I'm sorry. I was afraid."

Once more, he'd surprised himself. Afraid? Where the hell did that come from?

"Bullshit." He refused to let his brain feed him lies.

"You were so occupied with your passion, I felt left behind. I couldn't participate in that part of your life."

He knew she'd felt a little intimidated by his occupation, but he'd assured her he wasn't expecting her to fake an interest in math just for him. He accepted they had different strengths.

Tyson dragged up his memories of their marriage and looked at his behavior critically. Had he been inattentive? He recalled the kisses and hugs he'd stolen from her as she was trying to get ready in the morning, the giggles, and how she'd push him away. He hadn't done that every morning and maybe it happened less in the last year of their marriage... but she'd made no mention of feeling neglected or unsatisfied. He shook his head. This didn't explain her infidelity. He was grasping at straws.

"Bullshit. That doesn't justify what you did."

"I know," she sighed, the sound full of regret.

He raised his hands and pressed the heels into his eyes. He had to stop his brain from assigning the hallucination emotions he couldn't possibly know she felt. That was just wishful thinking, and he wouldn't lie to himself.

"I want you to leave," he said and looked to Imani, but Miranda was standing there in her place. "Oh!" he started.

"Can I wait until morning?" she said quietly.

"Morning? Oh! I wasn't talking to you! You can stay!" he backpedaled.

Miranda's brows came down as she looked closer at him. "Who were you talking to?"

He sighed as he didn't really want to involve too many people in his hallucinations, but he couldn't see a way out of this. "My wife. Or rather, my mind, which brings her image to me occasionally for awkward conversations like this."

Miranda's eyes were like saucers as she looked around the room. "You see her now?"

"No, she's gone—I mean, I'm no longer having the hallucination. I don't believe in ghosts," he insisted.

Miranda shivered and made the sign of the cross. "My mother saw her mother for a few months after she crossed over. She gave my mother some beneficial advice. She returns from time to time but only to my mother. She locked eyes with Tyson. "We believe."

He was suddenly weary once more. He didn't want to argue with the girl. "I'm going back to bed."

Miranda took his hand and followed him back to the bedroom. They both got under the covers and snuggled in. Miranda rolled onto her side with her back to him but reached for his arm and pulled him onto his side to spoon her.

That brought his naked cock in direct contact with her round ass cheeks. He tried to pull back, but she pulled him closer.

He felt lips on his palm as she pulled his hand to her face. She sensually kissed each fingertip, then her tongue was stroking his thumb. This had a direct effect on his cock, which swelled and pressed between her legs. She lifted her top one, and his shaft rose to slap against her wet pussy.

She moaned and sucked on his thumb as her hips rolled, stroking his shaft against her wetness.

He was a little dazed by how quickly she was becoming aroused. He wondered if it had something to do with her perceived brush with the supernatural.

His need for her was building. He wanted to stop her, as once more he was getting involved with a girl far too young for him. Additionally, his bruises were still sore, so he wasn't feeling all that athletic, and her movements were escalating.

When she reached down and positioned the head of his cock against her opening, he made to protest, but before he could, she drove her ass back, and he was sinking deep inside.

"Ahhh, Tyson! So goooood," she sighed.

He could only grunt his agreement as it felt too good for his brain to process. Her ass was pressing against him, and her powerful muscles were squeezing him so well; he wanted more.

In a sudden move, he rolled her onto her stomach as he moved with her. Now he was able to drive himself into her from above. This angle made the head of his cock rub against the front surface of her vagina. This appeared to be very stimulating.

"OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCK! TYSON! YES! HARDER!" she cried, and he granted her wish. He was struggling against the ache in his muscles, but his need for her was stronger, and the room filled with the sound of his pelvis slapping her ass cheeks.

"OH! OH! OH! Tyson! I-I-I'm coming!" she squeaked.

He sped up his efforts as he didn't know how much longer his muscles would be able to last. The spanking grew sharper, and Miranda's noises became higher pitched as well.

"Spank me! Oh fuck, spank me!" she chirped as her body shook and trembled.

It was too much for Tyson, who crushed her to the mattress as his cock fired ropes of hot cum deep into her. He ground his body against her hot reddened ass, and she cooed.

When his muscles began to shake from fatigue, he slumped down next to her, pulling his softening cock from her. She immediately disappeared under the covers, and he gasped as she sucked his cock into her mouth to clean it. She got the remaining cum and swallowed it happily. She slipped out of bed for a moment and moved away to use the washroom for a short time.

Miranda came back to bed and snuggled up to him under the covers. In moments, she was breathing slowly and softly.

Sleep didn't come so quickly for Tyson. He lay there with the beauty softly blowing across his chest as his mind spun, trying to make sense of the direction his life was taking.

"I like her."

He looked to see Imani sitting at the end of the bed. She was watching him with her lovely but sad eyes.

Glancing down at Miranda, he saw she was drooling slightly on his chest. He turned his eyes back to Imani.

"You can move on now," he whispered.

"No, not yet."

He frowned in frustration. "Why?"

"I can't tell you," she said with a pout.

His eyebrows rose once more. She was giving him— He was coming up with weird answers tonight.

"Soon?"

She smiled and nodded briefly. On his next blink, she was gone.

Tyson felt surprisingly good from receiving even a vague timeline from... his mind. A calm settled on him, and he actually began to look forward to the day ahead.

So much could happen.

PART 3

Chapter 10

Heart pounding in his chest and lungs gasping in huge gulps of air, Tyson grinned at the brunette beauty whose face was glowing in the morning light with her own joy.

"Damn, old man! You're getting too good for me to keep up with!" Miranda teased.

He chuckled as they coasted the last block to the university grounds on their racing bikes. He'd grown to love cycling all over again. What had been a childhood pastime had become an integral component of his exercise routine and his only means of travel between his cottage home on the lake and the university.

After six years of stagnation, Tyson's life was finally beginning to recover. In the last ten months, he'd started to reintegrate himself into his old life.

The university gladly accepted him back, and he was given a new office down the hall from George's. Granted, it was an old stock room they'd had to renovate to make it into an office. His friend was delighted to have him back, so he didn't resent the fact that Tyson's new office was more substantial than his and had an ensuite with a shower! George was too happy to complain because he'd returned to teaching his beloved Physics.

Tyson had a bicycle locker installed instead of getting a faculty parking spot as he wouldn't be driving any day soon. His PTSD still prevented him from being in a car without heavy sedation.

He was happy with cycling and rode in any weather. He'd purchased himself a mountain bike with a rear rack and panniers so he could ride into town to buy groceries. This improved his health and made him more independent. It saved him the delivery charges, too.

His racing bike was his daily commuting vehicle, and every day Miranda met him outside his cottage and raced him to the campus grounds. It had taken months for his performance to improve to the point where he won more often than not.

While they shared a deep love for cycling, Miranda no longer shared his bed. She had a new beau who treated her far better than her previous boyfriends. Tyson was very happy for her.

Christy was doing very well in New York. He received regular email updates from her, and her career was going places. She might be going to new locations as the company she worked for discussed plans for expanding into Europe. Paris would be first. Christy was very excited about that.

She'd let him know on her last visit that she'd begun dating someone. The fact that she confessed this after they'd spent an evening bringing each other through a series of intense orgasms that left them both in a daze gave him an uneasy feeling about that relationship's future success. That was when she confessed the man wasn't rocking her world in bed. Tyson asked if she was comparing her new man with him. She'd given him a guilty nod. They had a long discussion that night and determined they needed to end their relationship's physical side.

Coming back from his thoughts, Tyson waved to Miranda as he turned down the lane leading to his building while she continued riding straight. He rolled his bike in his locker, switched his cycling shoes for sneakers, and secured the large cabinet. He walked into the building and waved to the two young women working in the admin office.

"Good morning Leona, Felicity."

"Good morning, Mr. Kane!" they said in unison. He stopped to give them a raised eyebrow as they giggled. "Good morning, Tyson," they corrected as per his earlier instructions.

He nodded with a little smile and continued down the hall to his office. He ducked his head in the door of George's office.

"Good morning, Gail. Is George not out of bed yet?" he asked cheekily.

"And how would I know that?" she responded with a stern look in his direction.

Tyson grinned as he knew that, while Gail had worked with George for decades, they'd never cross that line. Gail was a very private person, and Tyson knew of no love interest in her life. She seemed happy without one. The concept of asexuality was foreign to Tyson, but he respected her life choices. Still, it was fun to tease his friends once more. "You take care of so many aspects of his life. I just assumed you went to his house each morning to kick him out of his bed. The man is helpless without you."

"I'll grant you that may be true, but I restrict my involvement in his life to the university grounds," she said with a world-weary sigh.

"Helpless?" a voice growled from behind Tyson.

He turned to see George standing there in a wrinkled suit with bloodshot eyes. Tyson's eyebrows rose. "What happened to you?"

"Remove your sweaty body from my doorway, and I may answer you," George grumbled, trying not to stare jealously at Tyson's hard muscles. His own well-marbled roundness was embarrassing in comparison. He liked it better when Tyson was fat, too.

Tyson stepped aside, and George entered, dropping his briefcase on a chair in the waiting area.

The shorter man yawned. "I was on a video conference with Yuri Chernyshevsky from Russia and Gustav Sjöberg from Sweden. They had some fascinating questions they needed to discuss with me. We were up all night."

"Not terribly responsible of you," Gail admonished.

He wearily rubbed his face. "I know, but it was so damn exciting!" A little life showed in his tired eyes.

"Get some rest. I'll cancel your first class," Gail sighed wearily.

"See? Helpless!" Tyson said as he laughed and walked on to his office, hearing Gail chuckle and George groan.

Tyson unlocked his office door and closed it behind himself before walking over to the wardrobe he'd had installed in his new office. Inside, he stored a week's worth of clothes. He rode his mountain bike to the university on weekends to replenish his clothes for the week ahead and took his dirty laundry home. The wardrobe's rack held five dress shirts and three pairs of dress pants. The drawer at the bottom of the cabinet had his underwear, socks, and two pairs of leather loafers.

He never cared particularly about fashion, so his selection of clothes could be said to be dull. His shirts were solid colors of white, grey, black, deep navy blue, and burgundy red. The pants were all black but made of a stretchy material as his leg muscles had developed to a size that didn't comfortably fit in pants made of conventional fabrics.

Tyson grabbed a pair of underwear from the drawer and headed into the washroom. He quickly undressed and stepped into the shower.

He rinsed his cycling clothes, wrung them out, and hung them up on a small line he'd added to the shower so his clothes would drip dry.

There was no real need to rush as his first class wasn't until ten. Still, he scrubbed himself clean, rinsed, and stepped out with no delay. He toweled himself dry quickly as well. Once he pulled on his briefs, he allowed himself a sigh of relief.

Recently, he'd had visitors while he took his morning shower. Twice that week and twice the week before, Leona and Felicity took turns springing surprise visits. Both indicated they were single and definitively interested in having a little fun with the new professor. He should have turned them away the first time, but they weren't registered in his classes, and they promised to be discreet.

Leona insisted on being bent over his desk and taken from behind. The harder, the better, but hands off her long, blonde streaked auburn hair. The plump and curvy woman was all about girly things and femininity. Except when she wanted to be slammed. Her words.

Felicity wore a lot of black, from her tight turtleneck sweaters to her Doc Martens. She was also rail-thin and very pale. He assumed she was a goth as she favored black eye shadow, lipstick, and nail polish. She was also obsessed with oral sex and very submissive. She wanted Tyson to take control and fuck her mouth. Unlike Leona, she wanted him to grab and pull her hair, which she always wore in a ponytail at the office for that very purpose. She had no gag reflex, so she was a deep throat dream. It left her a little hoarse for the morning, but she didn't seem to mind.

Today, it looked like he was going to have the morning to himself. He grinned self-consciously as he wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved. He added deodorant and stepped out of the bathroom.

He froze as he spotted a thick-bodied, dark-haired woman sitting on the couch against the wall next to his closed door. She was wearing old school black-rimmed glasses resting on her substantial nose and a tweed jacket over a black t-shirt, jeans with tears, and black boots. She was also holding her cell up as if she'd been reading something. She turned it towards him and touched the screen.

"Did... did you just take a picture of me?" he asked quietly but with an edge.

She was still looking at him, as surprised as he was. Finally, her eyes lifted up to his face, and a new shock registered. "Tyson... Kane?"

He nodded as he tried to recall if she was faculty or one of the students. Then he frowned as she hadn't answered his question.

"I'm Sidney Calabre, from The New Yorker Magazine. I had an appointment to interview Professor Kane," she said hesitantly.

"Yes, yes, that's me, but I don't know anything about an interview. No one cleared it with me," he grumbled.

The woman nodded then smiled. "I must say, you look nothing like the pictures we pulled up from the original story."

He sighed. "The original story being the train accident?" he asked wearily.

She nodded as her smile grew. Tyson wondered what that smile meant.

"Who did you arrange the story with?" he asked.

"It was the Dean's office that called my editor. Apparently, Dean McNally is a friend of my boss."

Tyson grimaced. Now it made sense to him. He recalled McNally making some vague statements about recouping the expenses of rehiring him and the office renovations. Tyson had foolishly expected that would entail speaking at a symposium, not a direct face-to-face with a reporter.

He turned to the wardrobe and grabbed a pair of pants, pulling them on as he kept his back to her.

"I have a class at ten—"

"We should get the interview portion done before then. You don't mind if I record it," she asserted with a confident smile. She touched the screen of her cell a few more times.

Tyson shook his head as he reached for his white shirt, then paused. He looked back at her. "Portion?"

"Dean McNally indicated I should observe you in the classroom setting as your teaching method is unconventional yet highly effective. His words. I look forward to seeing you in action."

Tyson snorted. "Action? I'm a math teacher, not a gym coach."

Sidney laughed. "But you don't look like any math teacher I've ever known. You do look like someone seriously involved with athletics."

He sighed, then reached for the black shirt. His students seemed to prefer this color on him. He thought about his journey to this physical state as he buttoned up his shirt. He thought he saw her taking another picture and frowned. "I've been... focused on exercise since the accident. It took a long time to recuperate from the damage. Then I just kept pushing."

"Can you tell me what exercises you did to get into such great shape?" she asked.

Tyson sat in his chair and pulled his socks on. As he couldn't see any way out of this, he just nodded.

So, the interview began.

-=-

"That's absolutely correct, Ms. Dewitt. Does anyone have any questions on how she worked out the answer?" Tyson looked from the pixie-haired brunette to the faces of the twenty-three students in the tiered seats before him. Even Mr. Phillips, who was retaking the class because he failed the previous year, seemed comfortable and wore his trademark smug expression. Tyson looked back at Ms. Dewitt and nodded to her, gesturing for her to return to her seat. The woman put a little extra wiggle in her stride, knowing he'd be watching. Her face was a bit pink when she sat in her seat.

She was retaking the course simply to raise her grade average. She'd passed the previous year, but she signed up to repeat the class when she heard he was returning.

Tyson was aware that she'd had an ulterior motive for retaking his class. On her first day, she'd approached him about grabbing a coffee and a treat. She left no doubt what she really meant. He let her know he'd enjoy a coffee, but he couldn't have treats with students in his class. She'd fixed her gaze on him and asked if he could with a student who'd passed his course. He'd told her this student would have to achieve a ten-point increase over her previous effort. Then, yes.

She'd accepted the challenge, and as things were progressing, she was likely to surpass the grade by twenty points. There were only two weeks left, and her flirting was bordering on outrageous.

He was grateful he taught a course that could be graded exclusively on the student's comprehension of material based on testing. He didn't bother with class participation and any of the subjective elements.

This semester's batch of students was a smart and enthusiastic bunch.

He addressed the class. "Okay, we have a review next week and then the final. I'm optimistic I'm going to see some excellent grades!"

"Does that mean we can skip review week?" Mr. Phillips blurted.

He grinned. "I said I'm optimistic, not stupid. See you all next week!"

The group chuckled and stood as the bell rang.

Tyson leaned back against the desk at the front of the room and felt that tingle fill his chest once more. He really did love teaching.

As the student's filed out, his journalist observer approached from the side of the room where she'd been sitting watching the action. He was sure she'd taken some additional pictures of him as well.

"I get it. You do have a unique style of teaching that really seems to reach them." She glanced over her shoulder to see Ms. Dewitt step outside as she smiled back at Tyson, biting her lip. "I think some are more eager to be reached than others." She looked at him closely to see if he would give away any juicy secrets, but he just waited.

She sighed. "Are you going to tell me that you've never been tempted to take these sweet young things up on their offers?"

"I'm not going to sully the reputation of this institution with a scandal. I'd never get involved with a student taking one of my courses, and I do my best to gently dissuade any who expresses that kind of interest in me. You said it yourself. They're young! I could be their grandfather," he admitted.

Sidney paused to look at him. "Shit! I keep forgetting you're almost in your sixties!"

He smiled gently at her. "I am sixty."

She blinked again, then her grin came back. "You don't look like any sixty-year-old I know."

He shrugged. "I've got to prepare for my next class. Did you get everything you need for the piece?"

"Actually, I was hoping I might continue this interview over dinner. I'd like to get some background on the changes your life has undergone in the time since the accident," she said hopefully. "I have a rental car, so I could drive us to any restaurant you'd like. My travel budget would cover dinner."

His expression stiffened. "I don't travel in cars anymore. I rode my bicycle to work." He saw her interest in that fact and disappointment in not continuing. While he wasn't eager to talk about his life, he knew he had to give a good interview for McNally. "If you'd like to join me for dinner tonight at my place, I can give you the address. I've got a prime rib roast in the oven. Are you Vegan?"

She flashed a wide smile at him and gestured at her thick body. "Not a Vegan. I put any and all kinds of food into my bountiful temple."

He smiled and nodded. He gave her the address, which she added to her cell's contact list.

Sidney looked up from her cell. "Do you know where I might find George Haley, and can you describe him so I'll recognize him?"

"His office is just up the hall from mine. He looks like a squished version of Einstein," Tyson replied.

She chuckled. "I've met him then. He's the one who guided me to your office this morning. He told me to wait in your office. Did he know you'd be almost naked?"

Tyson rubbed his face and nodded. "The man likes to stir up shit. Of course, I'd just finished teasing him about how helpless he was without his assistant, Gail. This was payback."

"You're friends?"

He nodded with a warm smile. "Yeah, he's my best..." Tyson's smile dimmed as he remembered the woman who once held that title. He cleared his throat as he turned to gather up his notes. "I'll see you tonight at seven?"

Sidney watched him. "Yes."

With a final nod, Tyson gestured for her to precede him out of the classroom and locked it before heading for the washroom.

He just needed a little private time and assumed she wouldn't follow him there.

-=-

George looked up as he heard a knock on his door jamb. The journalist he met this morning was standing there, smiling at him. He smiled at her.

"Clever trick you played on Tyson this morning at my expense," she said.

George snorted in amusement. "You're welcome."

She grinned, showing she didn't harbor a grudge. She entered the office and took a seat before his desk. "It might have started the interview off on an awkward footing, but it did give me an excellent angle for the story. My editor will be very pleased, so thanks."

George nodded again with a smile.

"Who is Tyson Kane's best friend?" the woman asked point-blank.

His smile wavered then he nodded faintly. "These days, that's likely me."

"So, it was his wife before?" she asked.

He nodded noncommittally, and she raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. "His original best friend was a woman named Ashley Collins. They grew up as neighbors. Inseparable until he left to go to Europe to study. While he was away, she married the man who became the university's previous Dean, Franklin Dunnings. It's was Ashley's campaigning that landed Tyson his position here." He took a deep breath, as the rest had to be handled delicately. "The night of the accident, at Franklin's retirement party, Ashley's marriage fell apart. He was a piece of shit, and she exposed him for it. We all left, except for Tyson and Imani. After the accident, Ashley disappeared, fled to somewhere in Europe, I heard. We haven't heard from her since."

George could see the gears turning in the reporter's head.

Finally, she spoke. "Childhood friend and wife; friends or rivals?"

He grimaced. "I'm not going to speculate on that, and I strongly advise you not to address it with Tyson."

The woman watched him, then nodded.

She suddenly stood. "Thanks again for the help this morning."

George nodded to the woman and watched her leave with a slightly unsettled feeling in his tummy.

He wondered at the direction this story was taking and hoped the Dean arranged editorial review before its being published... for Tyson's sake.

-=-

Sidney had a lot of excellent material for a great story. Tyson's physical transformation from chubby bear before the accident to ripped tiger afterward and his exceptional teaching skills before and after made for compelling reading. She needed some background on what he was like before the accident and his relationship with his former best friend.

She stopped to speak to the two ladies staffing the small admin office. "Hi, I'm Sidney Calabre, from The New Yorker Magazine. I'm doing a story on Tyson Kane." Both ladies perked up with broad smiles. They were obviously fans of the man, from the slightly dreamy look on their faces, maybe intimate fans.

"I've spoken to George Haley, but I'd like to have a few more sources for information on how Tyson worked before the accident."

The two women looked at each other, and the one with the ponytail looked like she had a sudden thought. She turned to her co-worker. "Mrs. Cromwell!" The young woman with the highlights in her hair nodded vigorously.

The ponytail girl faced her. "Mrs. Cromwell was the head of Human Resources for years but works in the library these days. She knows everyone's business."

"Thanks!" she said and waved as she left the office.

She had a source to track down.

Chapter 11

After his last class, Tyson rushed back to his office to change into his cycling gear. He was meeting Miranda by the east gate of the campus. She'd sent him a text earlier stating she had a surprise for the ride. They were going for longer rides after school now. Their training rides went out into the surrounding country roads.

As he opened the bathroom door, he came face-to-face with Felicity. She looked up at him with a guilty expression.

"Felicity? What's wrong?" he asked.

"That writer from the magazine? The one doing the story on you?" she said, and he nodded. "She was asking for the name of someone who worked with you before the accident." She took a deep breath. "We gave her Mrs. Cromwell's name."

Tyson closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"One of my spies texted me that she overheard them in the library talking about Devon Wilson." Felicity looked miserable.

Tyson gritted his teeth as he heard the man's name. He only truly hated one man, and that was Devon. He'd violated something precious to Tyson. Granted, he'd had assistance from Imani.

His mood was dropping, and suddenly he had a slim young body clinging to him.

"I'm so sorry!" Felicity gasped against his chest.

Tyson looked down into her dark brown eyes and saw her remorse... and need.

He took a grip on her ponytail, and she gasped in anticipation, eyes widening. Tilting her head back, he kissed her hard, and she moaned into his mouth. He tasted her lips slowly and caressed her tongue as she desperately tried to suck on his. Finally, he allowed her that as the fingers of his free hand found her stiff nipple through her thin sweater. Felicity had minimal breasts but thick and sensitive nipples. Tremors ran through her body as he squeezed and tugged on the bud.

Felicity's hands slipped inside his cycling pants to squeeze and stroke Tyson's cock until it felt like steel.

She was beginning to pant, so he knew she was ready. He pulled back from her mouth, her last kiss landing on his chin, and looked into her lusting half-lidded eyes.

"Take me in your mouth," he said, his voice deep and trembling with need.

Felicity needed no further instruction as she dropped to her knees and peeled his cycling pants down in one tug. Her fingers were wrapped around his cock, and he sighed with pleasure as she pressed her lips to the head. His sigh became a gasp as Felicity slowly opened her lips as she pressed forward, taking him into her mouth, deeper and deeper, until she had all of him and he was stretching out her throat.

With her face pressed against him, Tyson couldn't see if she needed a breath, so when he felt her fluttering eyelashes tickling his belly, he pulled her head back until she sucked in a lungful of air. She pulled at his ass to drive his cock back down her throat. They continued this tug of war until he felt himself swelling in preparation to come. Felicity realized it, too, and her actions became frantic. Tyson placed his hands on her head and began to drive his cock into her mouth in a steady pump.

She thrust one hand into her yoga pants and another up inside her sweater to pinch and tug at her nipple. She squealed almost immediately as her orgasm ripped through her.

Tyson pulled her face against his body as he felt his body send surge after surge of cum down her throat. Fuck! That felt intensely good! He enjoyed it for a moment, then slowly pulled his cock from her face as she sucked and licked to get every drop. When the head popped from between her swollen lips, she sighed and looked up at him hungrily.

He shook his head with a smile. The girl was insatiable. He glanced at the clock and jolted as he saw he was going to be late.

"Shit! She's gonna leave without me!" he cursed. He helped Felicity back up to her feet, pulled up his cycling shorts, and kissed her once more, which left her with a cute smile on her face when he pulled back. He wasn't sure what that meant, but he really didn't have time to ask. "You were amazing. Could I ask you to lock up on your way out?" The office workers had keys to the offices, so he was assured of that.

Felicity nodded as she bit her lip in amusement.

Again, he wondered what it was that was delighting her, but he pushed that aside. He nodded to her, then slipped his runners on. He was out the door and hustling down the hall. He paused a moment to lean in George's outer office entrance, where he was speaking with Gail. Both froze when they saw him.

"Have a good night!" he said and rushed away. He thought he heard Gail call out, but he was really going to be late.

Glancing at his cell, he saw a message from Miranda. "Heading East on Hwy 18. Catch up." He looked at the time and saw she'd just left. He'd have to hammer to catch up, but he should be able to do it.

He ran to the bike locker and worked the lock.

"Professor Kane?"

He turned and saw Ms. Dewitt standing on the path with her books in hand. Her eyes widened as she looked at his face. He was overly conscious of Miranda's lead growing more significant, so he turned back to the locker as he yanked off his shoes. "Yes?"

He switched to his cycling shoes as he stowed his sneakers in the locker, but the woman hadn't spoken yet. He turned to look at her as he dialed up the tightness on the shoes. "I'm really late. Is there something I can help you with, or can it wait until Monday?" he asked. He noted she was biting her lip too, but it wasn't with amusement. She was a little glassy-eyed as she stared at his mouth.

"Monday?" he asked cautiously. Such odd behavior!

"Yes!" she said breathily.

He nodded. "Great! I will see you then!" He rolled his bicycle out, secured the locker, and gave the bike a quick inspection. Time!

With a final smile at the gorgeous brunette, he jumped on the bike and surged away.

He rode through the town to the beginning of highway 18 and leaped from the saddle to pound on the pedals to surge ahead. He knew he had to catch Miranda before she crested the first significant climb, or she'd lose him on the descent.

Tyson wasn't sure how fast he was going, but it felt like light speed as the scenery flashed by. He loved his Cannondale as its stiff frame ensured the energy of his brutal pedal strokes went directly to the drive train, and the wheels accelerated him forward. He felt fast and agile when he rode all out like this. His body might be heavy and bulky with muscle, but when he was cycling, he felt like he was dancing in a ballet, each movement a testimony of grace and agility. Raw power translated efficiently into forward momentum.

When he came into view of the climb, he saw Miranda two-thirds of the way up the straight climb. The grade wasn't severe, but the length of the climb sapped the will. If he couldn't catch her in that last third, she would win.

He grinned, not today.

Tyson used the slight dip before the base of the climb to give himself a racing start and used that to launch himself into the ascent. He worked the gears smoothly to maintain his cadence to maximize his climbing power until he passed her at the crest of the climb. He threw a fist into the air as if he'd just won the King of the Mountains polka dot jersey from the Tour de France.

He rolled to a stop at the little turnout next to the guard rail. He suddenly realized he had an audience and grinned self-consciously. Five other cyclists, three men, and two women, wearing colorful jerseys and standing over flashy racing bikes, were watching him with odd smiles on their faces.

Miranda rolled up next to him and rolled her eyes. She pulled a tissue pack from her jersey's rear pocket and handed him a tissue. "You're wearing quite a lot of someone's black lipstick. Felicity? Is this why you were late?"

He was a little surprised by the sharpness of her tone as he wiped his lips. He glanced at the tissue and saw there had been a lot of lipstick on him. He looked back at her. "Sorry, I was delayed, but I left as quickly as I could." He tucked the tissue into his pocket.

She made a frustrated growl and pulled out a second tissue to try and wipe the lip impression from his chin.

"If you follow that trail of kisses down, I wonder where it ends," quipped one of the male cyclists. The young woman next to him slapped him playfully as the others laughed.

Tyson caught Miranda's hand, and he looked questioningly into her eyes. She simply pulled her hand away, leaving him with the new tissue. He absently wiped his chin as he waited for an explanation for her behavior.

"I think Professor Kane can clean his own face, Miranda," the closest male cyclist added as he looked between the two of them.

Tyson looked to the gathered cyclists. "Is this the surprise you were mentioning?" he asked to break the tension and get an explanation.

The young man thrust a hand out to him. "Hi, I'm Ken Drake. Miranda's boyfriend."

"Ah," Tyson thought. He smiled and shook the hand. "Nice to finally meet you! Please call me Tyson. Miranda told me you two were a couple. Congrats!"

The man nodded graciously, but he still had an uneasy expression for his girlfriend.

One of the other couples rolled a little closer. It was the joker and slapper. "I'm Tim, and this lovely lady is Penny."

Tyson nodded and smiled at them.

The last two seemed eager to get moving. "David and Reilly," the last man said. "We're losing daylight."

Tyson nodded and gestured they could get moving immediately. The route was clear, so they got moving again. Tyson would have to wait for Miranda's explanation.

The other side of the hill was a winding descent, which was not Tyson's forte, so he rode a little slower than the others, who all seemed like highly experienced descenders. When they reached the valley beyond, he had to race to catch up. When he did, the long straight stretches and curves in the valley were where Tyson's strength and stamina proved too much for the others, and he left them all in the dust.

There was a rest stop at the intersection of highway 18 and county road 10. A small gas station and snack shop was the recharging station for all cyclists. Tyson picked up a little bag of mixed nuts and dehydrated fruit, then he refilled his water bottle from a spring-water tap.

Tim walked up to him and stood there with hands on his hips and a grin on his lips. "Okay, let me just say, I was a little worried you were going to hold us back on that descent, but shit, man! I could not keep up with you on the flats. How did you get so freaking strong and build your endurance up so high?"

Tyson chuckled. "Yeah, I suck at descending. Climbing and flats are where I shine." He thought about it. "If there was a straight descent, I might be okay." He shrugged. "I strength train and swim every day."

"Didn't your body get all fucked up in that crash with the train?" David asked bluntly, and Reilly threw him an annoyed look. "What? He was!" he snapped.

Tyson sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I have so many titanium pins and screws in me. They'd probably never let me past the security gate to get on a plane."

"So... how?" David insisted. Apparently, he didn't take kindly to being dusted by an old guy.

Taking a deep breath, Tyson focused on the young man's frustrated face. "I had to pull myself up from the wreckage my body had become. The physiotherapy was horribly painful, and it seemed endless, but I just kept at it. I had to learn to walk all over again, and I'll never be able to jog or run. I was given strict instructions from my doctors to eliminate all high-impact exercises. It was Miranda who reintroduced me to cycling. Of course, I'd never had a bicycle like this one before. It was a present from another friend."

Miranda smiled at him then looked away when Ken looked at her. Tyson was worried his presence was a problem for the couple.

"When I left the hospital, I began going for a swim in the lake I live next to. Every day, I'd swim out until I couldn't—" He cleared his throat as he knew he couldn't tell them he was testing himself against the lake. "Anyway, my endurance and lung capacity are likely due to my swimming."

He looked David right in the eye. "I don't stop when the pain begins. I push through it. It's what I do." He shrugged.

That seemed to take the steam from David's argument. He wandered back to his bicycle.

"Who's Felicity?" Penny asked with a cheeky grin.

Tyson just smiled and shook his head, getting a pout from the woman.

"If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?" Reilly asked tentatively.

"I don't mind at all. I just turned sixty."

Reilly smiled. "So, there is hope for us if we keep exercising. The fountain of youth is exercise."

"It's my belief that it's certainly a major component," Tyson confirmed. "A good diet of healthy food is also a factor. Give your body the nutrients and calories it needs to function and no more. The rest is up to your genetics, and that shit is a mystery to me."

That got chuckles from the others.

They rode on, and Tyson enjoyed his first experience riding with a pack.

At the second and final rest, a small park at the intersection of county road 10 and highway 23, which would take them back to town, Tyson got a little background on the others. They were from the bike club Miranda initially tried to get into. When Ken and the others couldn't get the club organizers to let her join the second time she approached them, they decided to leave the club and join her. They were growing tired of the club's fanaticism. It wasn't fun anymore.

Tyson could sympathize with that. He was really enjoying the ride.

Highway 23 had a lovely wide paved shoulder all the way back to town, so while it was a busier highway, they were able to stay out of the path of the traffic. As they reached the outer boundaries, David and Reilly waved and headed off their place. A short time later, Tim and Penny rode away with a wave, too.

Tyson needed to say something before Ken and Miranda left. "Could we stop for a moment?"

Ken nodded, and they stopped in a gas station parking lot.

Tyson looked to Miranda. "I really enjoyed the surprise of riding with a group, so thank you very much for that." The two nodded to him, but neither spoke as they could hear a but in there.

"I noticed a tension my presence has caused for you two. I'm not sure what that's from, but I want you to know I don't want to come between you. I won't be joining your group."

"No! You have to join!" Miranda insisted.

Ken looked between them. "Is there something you need to tell me?" he asked her.

Miranda looked at him nervously. "What?"

"Why did you act jealous when he showed up with a woman's lipstick on his face? I'd like to know that," Ken asked.

Tyson was concerned about that as well. It seemed Miranda hadn't mentioned to her new boyfriend that she and Tyson had been intimate. But the physical side of their relationship ended months ago.

Miranda's expression was closing up. Tyson sighed. This might make matters worse for them, but there had to be some honest communication. "Miranda and I are just friends... now."

Ken looked at him. "Now?"

Tyson nodded. "We met last year, and as mentioned, it was her idea to get me cycling. That saved me from remaining a recluse at my home. I was going through a bad time. She was there for me, and we were... intimate. We were both aware this was not going to be more than that, so when she informed me that she was interested in a young man, we ended the physical side of our relationship but remained friends." He looked at the guilty expression on Miranda's face. "That's my side of it. Miranda, please?"

She looked at him with reddened cheeks and glassy eyes. She cleared her throat as Ken and Tyson waited.

"My reaction today caught me by surprise, too," she said quietly. "I'd never seen any evidence of Tyson being with anyone else before. In my mind, I know we aren't in that kind of relationship anymore, but my heart wasn't ready."

Tyson's eyebrows rose, and Ken's went down.

"You're in love with him? Why did you start a relationship with me? Were you just leading me on?" he snapped.

"No! I mean, I'm not leading you on! I really like you, and I want to see what our relationship will grow into!" she insisted passionately. She looked to Tyson. "I'm sorry, it's not easy to turn off the emotional attachment to someone you've been intimate with. I'm new at this. There's no manual."

Tyson nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry, too. I should have been stronger and resisted better. I won't jeopardize what might become a deep and wonderful relationship. You two are a lovely couple. You need to talk this out. Be honest with each other and be compassionate as well. If you work it out and still want me to join the cycling group, you know where I am. Thank you for the ride tonight. It was really fun!"

He held his hand out to Ken with a hopeful smile, and the man shook it after a short pause. He just nodded to Miranda as it seemed she needed help with the emotional distancing. He quickly rode away and was soon enjoying the last stretch. Glancing at the time, he saw he still had an hour before his guest would be arriving. He sighed gratefully.

Then he recalled what Felicity had told him about the questions Sidney was asking Mrs. Cromwell. The woman had been one of the last to leave at the party that night. She was also a terrible gossip.

He suddenly wasn't looking forward to his evening as much.

Chapter 12

The small prime rib roast smelled delicious, and once he got it out of the oven, he saw it looked as good as its scent. The roast potatoes were crispy golden brown on the outside, and the baby carrots were tender. He gauged there was just enough for two, which meant he didn't have to scramble to steam some corn to add to the plate. The little basket of fresh-baked rolls and the butter were on the table.

He confirmed he had the fresh strawberries, angel food cake, and real whipped cream for dessert.

The crunch of gravel in his driveway told him his guest had arrived. He walked to the door and opened it to see Sidney closing the door of her rental car. She walked around its tail and smiled up at him.

She'd taken time to change into a sundress. It was yellow with wide burnt orange tie-dyed stripes running horizontally. One streak ran across her breasts, which stretched it. She was a little thick in the belly, where the second stripe stretched as well. The final line ran around her hips and ass with significant distortion. She had tan gladiator sandals whose straps reached her ankles. In her right hand was a bottle of red wine.

"You look lovely tonight!" Tyson said with a smile. "You didn't have to bring wine."

She climbed up the stairs and held the bottle out to him. "Never arrive empty-handed," she said with a grin.

He noted it had been chilled. "Come in, please." He stood aside, holding the door.

She looked around. "Your home is lovely! It's bigger than I thought it would be. Is it a two-bedroom?" she sighed.

"Thank you! Yes, it is."

"Seriously, how did you score one of these homes on the lake?" she asked.

"Inherited it from my parents," he said simply. "Dinner is ready."

Her smile widened. "It smells incredible!"

"It's prime rib, so would you like some hot mustard, steak sauce, or whatever you like," he suggested.

"How do you eat it?" she asked.

"Au jus."

She smiled and nodded. "I'll have the same"

Tyson gestured for her to take a seat, then filled two plates and carried them to the table.

"Oh my god, this smells fantastic! Where did you learn to cook," she asked.

"I was an only child, and both my parents worked. My mom taught me to make meals to help out. That came in handy when I was studying in England. None of the other students knew how to cook, so I made meals for my squad."

"Squad?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He smiled self-consciously. "It's just what we called our dorm. It looked like an old WWII pilot barracks, and we mathematicians liked the romantic aspect of that."

He opened the wine and poured it for them.

They took their first bites and smiled as the tender roast melted in their mouths.

"Would you mind if I asked you questions about your early years after you moved back?" Sidney asked.

He took another mouthful and pondered that. Once he swallowed, he looked at her. "I may or may not answer, but you can ask."

They both sipped the wine and agreed it went well with the meal.

Sidney began. "When you returned from Europe, you discovered your best friend, Ashley Collins, had gotten married. Were you two ever romantically involved?"

He looked at her. "Well, I see we're easing our way into the sensitive stuff." The woman just smiled and watched him. He sighed. "No, it didn't happen."

"But, you wouldn't have been resistant."

Tyson stared at her. "It's a moot question. There was no opportunity back then. I returned, and she was married. I met Imani and fell in love. We got married. More than twenty years passed before Ashley's marriage failed. The accident happened and took Imani. I found out in the hospital that Ashley disappeared somewhere in Europe. It's done. She got a new start. So did I."

Sidney changed tactics for a while and asked him general interest questions. Fluff stuff that could be used to fill out an article to lengthen it. Lots of things about how he grew up and the hijinks a math wizard got into. Questions about hanging out with Ashley as they grew up. They enjoyed their meal as the discussion continues.

Finally, Sidney looked around the room at all the pictures.

"I recognize your wife in some of these photos. She was very beautiful."

Tyson just nodded and continued to eat.

"I don't recognize the young blonde in the pictures, though," she gestured toward the photos of Christy.

He glanced at them and back to his plate. "A friend, Christy Taylor. She helped me break free from some of my reclusive ways. Another friend, Miranda Moreno, had the idea of using cycling to give me the means to get around. Christy paid for the bicycle I ride to the campus." He smiled as he recalled the argument they'd had over his paying her for the bike. She was such a fierce young woman!

He noticed Sidney watching his smile with a knowing look in her eyes.

"What about you? Anyone special in your life?" he asked boldly to redirect the conversation and saw her smile widen.

"Yes. I'm actually married. Three years now. Her name is Phoebe. She's a nurse." She held his eyes in challenge.

"A nurse in New York City. Must be a tough job," he said, and she nodded, satisfied he wasn't going to react in some homophobic manner.

"It's nice to see an enlightened attitude from someone in your age group," she remarked.

Tyson laughed. "Glad to see someone is acknowledging my actual age."

She snorted. "You have to look very closely to see signs of aging. Whatever you are doing to keep age at bay, keep it up and teach it to others. You'll be rich beyond your wildest dreams."

He shrugged as he used a dinner roll to get the last of his meal. "I have all the money I'll need for more than the life I have left to use it. I live minimally, so I have limited expenses." He looked to the journalist. "I have fresh strawberries, angel food cake, and real whipped cream for dessert."

She nodded happily, so he cleared their plates and brought the ingredients for dessert to the table. They filled their own dishes and enjoyed the sweet treat.

Tyson cleared the dishes away while Sidney moved to the couch in the living room with her topped-up wine glass. He joined her with his glass, and they half turned on the sofa to face one another.

Sidney gave him a small smile. "You seemed like you were waiting for this next question. Devon Wilson."

Tyson grit his teeth unconsciously.

She saw his jaw flex. "You don't like the man," she said gently.

Tyson snorted at her understatement. "No. I don't like him. I hate him and what he did. As much as the affair he had with Imani humiliates me, I want him to be known as the rapist he is."

"You pressed charges?" Sidney asked.

Tyson nodded. "I don't expect much from the courts as all I have for proof is his confession. Imani never told me of the affair."

Unbidden, his mind flashed the image of Imani's eyes one second before the train struck. The emotion in her eyes was now guilt, but he knew his memories were being painted with his current knowledge. Still, the sudden memory locked his muscles.

"Tyson? Are you okay?" Sidney's nervous voice broke through the buzzing in his head, and he blinked his eyes open to see her leaning over him with a worried expression.

He felt his muscles trembling and consciously made an effort to relax. "Yes... sorry."

"What happened?" she asked as she slowly sat on the couch next to him.

"Flashback. I had a flashback to the accident. The last time I spoke with Imani. We were arguing about Ashley. Imani accused me of having feelings for her."

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!" Sidney exclaimed. Tyson raised a stern eyebrow at her. "Sorry," she said sheepishly.

When Tyson felt a little less shaky, he nodded. "I was upset, so I confronted her about her behavior around Devon. Just before the accident." He hadn't meant to disclose that, but his tongue was running on autopilot.

"Oh, fuck! I'm so sorry!" Sidney gasped quietly, shaken by his confession.

"Do you have enough for your article? Would you mind if we ended the evening now? I'm a little tired," Tyson asked. He needed to stop talking.

"Oh-Uh, sure. Yes, I have enough," she said.

Tyson stood and walked Sidney to the door. The woman turned and pulled Tyson into a hug.

"You're a good man, Tyson. It's just my opinion, but you didn't deserve any of it," she said.

He hugged her in return. "Thank you. Be safe out there."

With a final look in his eyes, she nodded and left his home. He watched until she drove away.

He locked the door and collected the empty wine glasses, taking them to the kitchen. He lost himself in the mundane task of doing the dishes and tidying the kitchen.

When he was done, he saw there was still half a bottle of wine, so he poured himself another glass. He shut off all the lights and sat on the couch to watch the flames dance in the little wood stove. He sipped at the wine and did his best to clear his mind of all thoughts other than the fire.

"I hurt you."

He sighed as her voice twisted the knife in his chest. "Yes." He was too tired to ignore the hallucination and run his equations tonight.

"That was never my intent."

The flames licked the glowing wood. He rather enjoyed watching the fire. It was safer than the voice.

"Didn't matter what your intent was. You destroyed everything good. You destroyed me, too," he said wearily.

"No, you're better than you ever were."

He scowled at Imani, sitting at the other end of the couch. Beautiful, untouchable, and unbearably sad. "So sorry you didn't survive the crash to cash in on this." He gestured to his body.

She looked away, and a single tear fell from her cheek.

Tyson roared as he surged up from the couch to stomp over to the patio doors and outside to the backyard. He marched down to the sand and stood there looking out over the still waters. The sun had just set, but there was still plenty of light to see. He looked upwards and saw there wasn't a cloud in the sky. There was a stillness to the air tonight.

Once he let that stillness inside, he took deep breaths to calm himself. Then he was able to bring his rational mind back online.

His non-rational mind was conjuring up some emotionally tricky shit tonight. The tear was over the top.

"I'm sorry."

"Please stop repeating that," he whispered. He glanced to the side, and Imani was standing there, clutching her hands together. She looked so beautiful and distraught at the same time. He turned to face her. "Listen, I don't want to be angry with the memory of... you. I love- loved you- her! Yes, she betrayed me, but there is nothing to be gained by anger now. All I need is for you- her, to go away. It's been seven years. Please, go."

"I can't. Not yet."

He turned back to the water. "Fuck!"

"The lake doesn't want you."

"I know. I don't need to hear it again," he sighed wearily and saw she was gone. He was alone.

He admitted it to himself; he was having a difficult time not responding to these hallucinations. He wondered if his mind was beginning to slip. He hoped not.

It would be a hell of a thing to go through all this pain and grief to get back to his life, only to lose his marbles now.

Chapter 13

For Tyson, the month that followed Sidney's interview settled into his daily routines and the standard year-end patterns. The final exams came and went, and his students performed admirably. Ms. Dewitt increased her score by twenty-two points. She'd scored a perfect grade and was delighted with the result.

She was celebrating her graduation with two weeks in France, but she intended to visit Tyson for the promised treat when she returned.

Miranda sent him an apology in email, saying he would have to ride on his own for a short time as she was working on her relationship with Ken, who felt a little threatened by her affection for Tyson. He let her know he understood. While he was sad to lose a riding companion, her relationship with her boyfriend was more important.

On a solo weekend ride on the same loop where he'd met Ken and his friends, Tyson encountered the town's official cycling club. Roughly eighteen cyclists, mostly young males, caught up to Tyson at the base of the descent and attempted to leave him in their dust. He surged forward, weaving his way through the group. While a few managed to catch his wheel as he swung wide of the pack, when he got to the front, over the series of straight-aways and long curves, Tyson peeled them off one by one until only one cyclist remained with him when he pulled into the parking lot of the small gas station. The young man was too exhausted to speak, so Tyson went inside to pick up a small bag of dried fruit and nuts.

The group was straggling in when Tyson came back out to refill his water bottle. He grinned at the cyclists who were wearily watching him munch on his snack. One of the young men, the first one he dropped on the first straight section in the valley, approached him.

"I'm Peter Hamlin, president of this cycling club. You really caught us by surprise. None of us expected you to be that fast, and we certainly didn't expect you to maintain that pace for so long. Did you drop all of us?"

"Tyson Kane. One of you managed to stay on my wheel." Tyson looked around and pointed to the man in question, sleeping in the shade of a tree. "That fellow. He was quite persistent."

He looked back at Peter and saw the man's face was turning red. He raised an eyebrow in question.

"Tyson Kane? The Professor? You're old!" the man shouted, and his group all turned to look.

Tyson grinned at the man's outrage. "And?"

"Never mind. I was about to ask you to join our club," Peter snapped.

"So, my skills on the bike impressed you, but now that you know how old I am, you don't want me? Ken was right. This club is lame." Tyson shrugged and walked back to his bike, where he topped up his bottle from the spring water tap. He mounted the bike, waved, and stood on the pedals to leave the parking lot to race away.

He really was loving his new mobility. He had no desire to ever go back to using a car.

He wouldn't have to do weekend clothing runs to the university over the summer break, so that gave him a little extra time to do personal rides. He was thinking about doing some bike camping that summer. He had time on his hands.

Riding past the hospital, he smiled as he recalled hearing the news that Devon Wilson no longer worked there. Being charged with raping one of the hospital's most beloved administrators ignited the suppressed anger of many of the female hospital staff who'd been sexually harassed by the former chief surgeon. Additional charges were filed against the man. For once, the hospital's administrators didn't protect their top surgeon. He was dismissed and wasn't likely to get another hospital gig.

Tyson stopped for ice cream and recalled his first ride with Miranda, and smiled. She and Christy had dragged him from the prison he'd fashioned for himself. He hadn't tried to find a way out himself. He'd fallen into a rut, and if they hadn't rescued him, he'd likely still be there.

He rode home slowly, doing his best to just enjoy the day. He had no other plans. Maybe he'd fire up the barbeque for dinner. He'd have invited George, but his friend was in Austria visiting his friends and colleagues.

And that was the extent of Tyson's social circle. One friend.

That was a little depressing.

Barbara Willowby, his neighbor, was off on a rare visit to one of her children's homes.

He thought about Christy, who was living her dream in New York City.

Miranda and her beau were on a road trip traveling through the states.

Even Leona and Felicity were gone for the summer. He wasn't even sure if they'd be coming back in the Fall.

Tyson was falling into a funk. He'd spent five years alone, and it hadn't bothered him then, but now, he'd begun to need people again.

He found he truly missed Imani, even his hallucination of her. She hadn't reappeared to him since his dinner with the journalist. He wished he could speak to the real Imani, not his mind's representation. While he believed her straying was due to her dissatisfaction with him, physically, he needed to know.

Of the article Sidney wrote, there was no sign. He was beginning to dread its eventual publishing and wasn't even sure he'd read it. If anything, he'd ask George and Gail to read it and give him a review.

As he stopped at the end of his driveway and dismounted, he spotted a sporty little red Fiat 500 parked on the gravel. Sitting on his steps was Ms. Dewitt. She hadn't seen him yet, as she was busy tapping a message on her cell.

Tyson felt a little surge of excitement... it was Ms. Dewitt!

A sudden sadness passed through him. He knew what she was here for.

And his heart was saying no.

It was saying no to a casual fling with Ms. Dewitt.

It was saying no more with Leona and Felicity if they came back.

There would be no more meaningless sex with people who were going to move on and leave him alone with his regrets.

With the loss of Imani, his life plan had been lost as well. Now, he had to start from scratch, but it wouldn't happen if he was flitting from bed to bed like a horny bumblebee.

Taking a deep breath to ease the tension in his chest, he rolled his bike forward, walking towards the steps.

When she heard the crunch of feet on gravel, she looked up and smiled. That smile faded as she saw the look in his eyes.

"You promised," she said with a pout.

He stopped a few feet from her. "I know. I'm sorry. I just... can't, anymore."

Her eyes widened in shock. "You can't get it up?"

He blinked in surprise, then laughed. "No! No, the plumbing works. It's my heart—" She gasped, hearing of his condition. "Sorry! There's nothing medically wrong with me. It's emotional. I can't continue to have flings for physical thrill alone. Everyone forgets how old I am. I was supposed to be retiring and settling into my golden years... with my life partner." He held her eyes. "That's not even close to your game plan."

She shook her head sadly.

"You have a fantastic life ahead of you with lots of opportunities for excitement and sexy times. I'm just... not going to be part of it. I lost the one I was going to settle down with to enjoy these twilight years. Now, I have to start over. I'm sorry for breaking the promise."

She stepped forward to give him a hug, and he hugged her in return.

"I can't say I'm not disappointed... but I understand."

When they parted, the young woman took a step towards her car and stopped abruptly as she and Tyson looked to a woman standing at the entrance of the driveway, watching them timidly. She was blushing and clasping her hands before her.

"I might know someone interested in sharing those twilight years with you."

Tyson couldn't breathe. He was terrified that if he did, this moment would end, and the vision before him would blink away as Imani now did.

Wavy sun-bleached blonde hair cascaded down past her shoulders. Her face, so familiar, yet matured with time, sunlight, and wind. Freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose spoke of time spent outside. Her tan skin confirmed it.

The vision wore a pretty, sleeveless sundress and sandals on her feet. Her arms were toned and tanned as well. She'd done hard physical work outside to keep her body firm and fit.

"Ash... Ash... Ashley? Oh my god," Tyson managed to force out of his tight throat. He stepped forward, then again, until he saw her moving towards him. He rushed forward to scoop her up in his arms, holding her tightly against his body, feeling her reality, the solidity of her presence, the delicate perfume of her body, and her warmth.

"Tyson, too tight," she squeaked.

He immediately set her down on her feet and tried to look into her eyes, but his eyes refused to focus. He wiped at them, but they remained blurry, and his cheeks felt wet.

"I'm crying?" he muttered in surprise.

A warm voice, filled with emotion, chuckled. "So am I."

"Ashley! You're really here?" He frantically pulled his jersey up and over his head, then wiped his eyes with it to dry them.

"Oof! You've certainly changed a lot since I last saw you!" Ashley said in admiration with a smile in her voice.

A second voice made a sound of disappointment.

He finally blinked his eyesight clear and gazed at the beauty before him. She'd aged, but she was still the most beautiful sight his eyes had seen in a very long time.

He looked to the pout on Ms. Dewitt's face. "Stephanie, I'd like to introduce you to Ashley Dunnings—"

"Collins," Ashley corrected.

He dipped his head in apology. "Sorry. Ashley Collins, my best friend. This is Stephanie Dewitt. A former student of mine."

"And would-be lover?" Ashley asked with a grin.

"I was this close!" Stephanie held up her finger and thumb with a tiny gap between them. She reached out to run her fingers down Tyson's chest and tight stomach muscles with a sigh. "Food for fantasies." She smiled at Ashley. "It was nice to meet you, Ashley. Enjoy, lucky bitch." She said it with a grin, so there were no hurt feelings.

The younger woman climbed into her sporty little car as Tyson and Ashley moved to the steps. With a single honk, Stephanie drove away. Tyson watched her go, then a puzzled expression appeared on his face as he looked back to Ashley.

"How did you get here?"

Ashley gave him an embarrassed smile. "I actually drove here in a rental and followed her car. When she pulled into your driveway, I went past and parked next door. I sat in my car, watching her, and saw her sit on the steps as you weren't home. When you arrived, I slipped out of my car and moved to the end of the shrubs to listen. I wasn't sure if you had a new girlfriend."

"I do not. I don't have anyone. Well, George Haley is still my friend." He looked her over again, his body practically vibrating with excitement. She was back!

"Should I move my car?" she asked.

"Hmmm? Oh! If you want, but Barbara won't be back for a week," he said happily.

"Later then. Should we go inside?" Ashley asked him, enjoying his delightedly distracted smile.

"Of course! Where are my manners? Please come in," Tyson jolted.

He ran up the stairs and unlocked the door for her. When she entered, he rushed down the steps, carried his bike up, and tucked it into the space next to the door.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked.

"Water would be lovely," she said. She made herself comfortable on the living room sofa and looked around.

Tyson rushed into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. He handed it to her and said, "I can't believe you're here! Now! Such incredible timing!" He sat next to her.

"I was sure you'd never want to see me again. What I did that night was unforgivable!" she suddenly confessed. She shook her head sadly. "I fled to Tuscany, Italy, to stay with my aunt at her vineyard. She took me in and helped me divorce that bastard Franklin from there. I isolated myself and disconnected from the world. I was so ashamed."

Tyson took her hand in his. "Ashley, there was nothing to forgive. I understood what you were going through, and I loved you, too, but I wasn't available. I loved Imani, too."

Ashley nodded. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you after she died. I-I didn't know she had until Ms. Calabre found me at my aunt's vineyard.

"Sidney Calabre? The journalist?" Tyson asked in surprise.

Ashley nodded. "She told me her editor sent her to find me to complete the story she was writing. She's one hell of an investigator, as the link between my family name and my aunt's family name is obscure and is only referenced in a few places in rural Italy. She filled me in on everything that happened here after I left. I had a good long cry that night. I'd failed my best friend again."

Tyson lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "You never failed me because you didn't know. I missed you terribly, but I understood you needed to get away from the place that brought you such pain."

Tears pooled in lovely blue eyes. "I never wanted to get away from you. I thought I had to, to protect your marriage. I didn't know you were actually alone."

"Did you mean what you said in the driveway? Will you share my life with me?"

She burst into happy tears. "Yes, oh, Tyson, yes!"

Then his lips were on hers, for only the second time in their lives, but now they willingly crossed the line from friends to lovers, and it was better than they imagined.

She lifted her hands, sinking them into his mane of hair, as he tenderly held her face between his hands so he could kiss her deeply.

Ashley moaned happily as he tasted her mouth. She recalled the brief forbidden kiss so many years before and how she'd felt him pull away. Now, he was hers. There was no more hesitation, only need.

He scooped her into his arms and carried her into his bedroom, gently laying her on the mattress. He slid in beside her and kissed her again, tenderly exploring her lips with his, memorizing the contours and softness.

For Tyson, this was what should have happened when he returned from Europe. While he'd been there, he'd come to realize how much he missed her. How much he needed her. His return was filled with anticipation, but hearing the news that she'd gotten married drove home how self-absorbed he'd been.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted.

"What?" Ashley asked in confusion.

"I went off to Europe to those universities, and I didn't tell you how I felt about you first. I arrogantly thought I had all the time in the world, and I didn't consider your feelings. I loved you, but I was so full of myself—"

"Shhhh. We were young and foolish! I was threatened by your genius, and in fear, I turned to Franklin. I could see he would never achieve much on his own, and that was safer for me. I could guide his career. I told myself it was enough. You saw how that all turned out. At least you found love! I was happy for you," Ashley confessed.

"I did love her. But for her, it wasn't enough, or she wasn't physically attracted to me? I was pretty fat then. Maybe I was just my normal state of being a self-absorbed asshole, and she felt neglected," Tyson said in shame.

"If she didn't talk to you about her concerns, how could you have known and done something about it?" Ashley insisted.

Tyson kissed her again, and Ashley joyfully responded until they rested their foreheads together to catch their breath.

"God, I've missed you so much, Ashley. I love you!" he confessed.

"I love you, too! I think I have all my life," she answered.

"Why are men so dense? Can't see what's right in front of us," he lamented.

"You see me now?" she asked quietly.

"Yes! Ashley Collins, I swear my heart will always be yours. Will you vow the same for me?"

"With all my heart," she responded with tears of joy in her lashes.

"Marry me," Tyson exclaimed.

"YES," she cried, and they kissed again.

When they pulled back from the sensual kissing once more, both were panting and grinding against the other. "Are you going to make love to me, or are we just going to kiss all night?" she asked with a grin.

Grinning, Tyson rose to his knees on the bed and helped Ashley up to hers.

He pushed his cycling pants down as she pulled her sundress up and over her head. He paused as he took in her fantastic body. Whatever she was doing on that vineyard had kept her in excellent condition. Once more, he was struck by how much Christy resembled Ashley in her twenties. Full breasts and svelte curves. "My god, you're beautiful!"

She smiled at him as she undid the clasp on her bra. "Not as pretty as the young blonde in all those pictures in your living room."

He smiled. So, she had spotted the shots of Christy. "Oh, you mean the woman who looks like you in your twenties?"

"Exactly," Ashley pouted.

Tyson had to laugh at the expression Christy had also perfected. "Her name is Christy Taylor, and she's a good friend. We were lovers, but that's over. George Haley sent her to me for math tutoring, and we became close for a time. She was the one who got me started on escaping my prison."

He took another loving look at the woman before him. "You are my ideal for the pinnacle of beauty."

He didn't let her respond before he pulled her to him for another kiss. He slid his hands down her bare back and under her panties to squeeze her firm ass cheeks. She moaned into his mouth.

He moved his lips to her jaw and discovered how sensitive her ears were when she gasped and clutched at him. He kneaded her butt cheeks in his big hands. "You have the sexiest ass," he whispered into her ear.

"Oh, god, now I know you've lost it! After having a twenty-something's ass, you think mine—" she began.

"Hey! Don't kink shame me for what I find sexy! There is nothing wrong with Christy's body, but I'm allowed to express my preference, and I prefer yours. It's everything I dreamed of," he insisted.

She looked into his eyes and saw he was being serious. "Oh! Thank you. Well, I like your hands on my ass.

That got her another squeeze. She squeaked, then chuckled at his playful look.

She ran her fingers over his chest. "I can't get over how fit you are. That young woman today was right. I am a lucky bitch," Ashley teased.

"Let me show you just how lucky you're gonna get," Tyson said with a wicked gleam in his eye. He suddenly lifted her off her knees and laid her back on the mattress. She squeaked again at the quick and effortless way he handled her body, then all she could do was moan and arch her back as his mouth found her breasts. He licked, sucked, and caressed until she thought she'd go out of her mind.

When he finally pulled away, she slumped to the mattress, panting and grinning as she'd been thoroughly shown her good fortune, in her opinion. Then she noticed he was moving lower. Her eyes flew wide as her heart leaped into her throat.

"Tyson! Tyson! Wh... What are you doing?" she gasped.

He just smiled, then he dipped lower.

"OHMYGOD! OHMYGOD!" Ashley cried out as she grabbed his head between her legs. His tongue and lips were doing things she'd only read about.

"Oh, Tyson! What... Mmmm! Oh! Ah, so good! Ohmygod!" she jolted and twitched as intense new sensations shot through her body. She LOVED this!

Her release was racing up, and her body was vibrating with it. Tears were running down her cheeks as she loved this man so much, and he was making her feel so intensely good!

When Tyson slid two fingers deep into her pussy to stroke the inner walls while he teased her clit, her ass left the mattress as her body arched in bliss.

She screamed as her orgasm took her ability to speak.

Tyson eased her down from her bliss until she was slumped against the bed. She faded momentarily, then she noticed him slipping back onto the bed and cuddling next to her when her eyes finally opened. He smiled down at her as he lovingly stroked her cheek.

"Was that a new experience?" Tyson asked her gently.

She nodded weakly. "Yes... I've never... felt that before," she sighed.

"Damn shame. I love doing it, so prepare yourself," he said with a smile.

Her eyes widened as she imagined him doing that daily. Bliss!

"I-I want to return the favor, but I have no energy," she pouted. "I'm also a novice, so you'll have to be patient and let me get lots of practice."

Tyson grinned. "I like eager students."

She smiled naughtily at him. "I'll be your teacher's pet!"

Tyson's eyes lit up as he chuckled.

"Teacher, I have this need only you can fulfill. An emptiness that needs to be filled by a special man I've dreamed of my whole life, even when I didn't know it," she said with an innocent voice and wide blue eyes. It was too much for Tyson, and he bent down to caress her mouth with his.

When he pulled back, she looked up at him again. "That was good!" she sighed. "But I need more. I need a special part of you down here." She parted her legs, and he moved his body over hers.

When the hot head of his cock pressed against her wet lips, they both gasped. This felt like another line they were crossing, and they were so ready.

He ran the head up and down until it was wet from her, then he pushed forward to sink inside.

"Tyson! Yes!" she sighed.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked quietly.

"Don't wake me, either," she said with a smile.

They rocked against each other until Tyson's body came to rest on Ashley's, and she had all of him.

"This feels so right," she sighed.

"I love you, Ashley," Tyson said as he looked into her eyes.

Blue eyes filled with love, and she took his face in her hands and pulled his mouth down to hers. He began to stroke in and out as their mouths tasted each other.

Finally, it was too intense for them to continue kissing, and her hands moved to his hips. She pulled at him on his downstrokes, so he sped up his movements.

"Tyson, I love you so much," she whispered to him as her body began to shake once more.

Ashley came seconds before Tyson, who filled her with his heat.

"It's never felt this good before. I'm so glad we finally found each other," Ashley moaned.

Tyson could only nod as his eyes filled with tears. He was happier than he could ever remember.

They carefully rolled onto their sides but managed to stay connected. Tyson softened, but still, he remained inside her. Neither wanted the intimacy to end.

That's how they fell asleep.

-=-

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Tyson woke on his back with Ashley tucked up against him. It felt natural and right.

He looked to the foot of the bed, and Imani smiled at him.

Glancing at Ashley to ensure she was asleep, he looked back at Imani hopefully.

"Now?" he pleaded quietly.

She nodded. "Goodbye, my love."

And she was gone, but this time it felt like it was for good.

Tyson felt lighter than he had in years. Something that had broken inside him was gone, and he felt like he might drift up into space.

He wouldn't, of course, because Ashley's love was his foundation.

Epilogue

Devon Wilson lowered the passenger window of his Porsche Carrera as he raced northward along the Pacific Coast Highway at a reckless speed. He angrily pitched the empty rum bottle out the window to hear it smash against the cliff face he was so close to.

On the seat next to him was a copy of The New Yorker magazine. Someone at his old hospital sent him a copy, as it contained an article on that bastard Tyson Kane. When he first saw it, he choked on his rage to see the title:

The Sexagenarian Who Puts Sexy Back in Math.

Devon had been forced to flee his home and hide out with a friend in California, while Tyson was treated like a celebrity at home and abroad? Where was the fucking justice in that? First, he kills the love of Devon's life. Then he spends years dropping his fat and hardening his body until he has sweet young sluts throwing pussy at him. Then he has the fucking gall to hook up with his childhood sweetheart and marry the bitch with members from high society and celebrities in attendance?

The pictures of Tyson sent Devon into a rage as he was showing off his body right from the first photo. He'd posed in only his briefs, standing in his office at the school. The image left little to the imagination.

The photo of Imani sent pain through Devon's chest. She was so perfect! Under it, there was even a brief reference to Devon, though he wasn't mentioned by name. He was just the other man— a negligible footnote in the story.

The fucker's new wife was working on his PTSD, and they managed to take a honeymoon in Tuscany, Italy. He was apparently treated like a celebrity in Europe, as well.

"FFFFUUUUUCCKKK!!!!" Devon screamed in fury as he felt his headache spike. The booze wasn't helping. He cast his eyes over the passenger seat for his other bottle. It probably fell into the footwell. He felt the car drift into the shoulder and yanked the wheel straight to put him back in the lane. The surge of adrenaline helped sharpen his mind, but the headache just grew worse.

That was Tyson's fault, too. The damage he did to Devon's orbital bones left him with chronic pain in his head. He couldn't work and was currently living off his medical insurance and his savings.

Devon knew what he had to do. He was going to balance life's spreadsheet. He'd borrowed a big fucking gun from his friend, and he was driving back to that college town to settle the score. Tyson didn't deserve to live while Imani was dead. Tyson's bitch didn't deserve to live either. The only one who should be alive was Imani.

If only he hadn't fallen in love with her. "Why did you leave me?" he choked out.

"I'm sorry, Devon."

Bleary eyes focussed on the seat next to him, and she was there, unbearably lovely and sad.

"I've missed you so much," he mumbled.

"I know," she said.

"Are you back to be with me?" he whined pitifully.

"No, I love Tyson."

"Fuck! I hate him! He's gonna die! And his bitch!"

"Devon, do you love me?"

He looked at the beauty in the seat next to him, and he couldn't look away. She was... perfection.

His Carrera was doing one-twenty when it clipped the rocky cliff face outcropping of the sharp right turn. Its right front fender exploded into scrap as it veered sharply left, bouncing across the lanes into oncoming traffic. The driver of a speeding Lamborghini Huracán had only a split second to react as he raced around the bend. Instead of a head-on collision, it slammed into the underside of Devon's car, launching it up and over the guard rail.

Devon was securely held in place by the airbags and seat restraints, but he felt light-headed as the car flew through the air towards the surf far below. He looked to his right and saw Imani's sad eyes watching him.

"The ocean wants you."

-=-

Tyson stepped out of the lake and ran his hands through his hair to shed the cold water. He'd made it more than halfway across today before he turned back. His best result yet.

He walked up the grass to the patio, aware of eyes on him. One set belonged to Barbara, of course, sitting on her roof deck, binoculars in hand. He put up with this as he wasn't about to change his habits for her.

The other eyes were Ashley's, and they twinkled with joy seeing his approach.

"You look like a mighty warrior sent from Atlantis to ravish the women of the land dwellers," she purred.

He chuckled, accepting a towel from her hand as he reached the little table and chairs. "Your next book?" he asked and got a nod. She'd become quite the prolific writer since they got married.

He'd moved his patio furniture a little closer to the house to ensure Barbara and the neighbors to the east, if they chose to climb onto their roof, couldn't see them. Now, the only visibility came from being out on the lake in a boat, and no one was.

Tyson dried his hair as Ashley leaned forward to take his cock into her mouth. She was getting better at this, and he appreciated her willingness to practice and her enthusiasm. Once she had a good rhythm going, he knew he wouldn't last. The woman had no gag reflex and took him deep on each stroke. Her strokes sped up.

"Ashley! You're gonna make me come!" he moaned quietly.

She purred happily and took a firmer grip on his ass as she pulled him deeper into her throat.

His orgasm crashed through his senses, and he just managed to stay on his feet as she milked him dry, swallowing every drop.

"My god, you're incredibly good at that," he sighed as she released his shrinking cock with a pop.

She grinned up at him as he leaned down and kissed her tenderly.

"It's your reward for being so diligent in your workout routine," she replied as he pulled back.

He rubbed the towel over the rest of his body as she watched him happily. He pulled on his robe, and they went inside to start their breakfast.

They worked together to prepare their meal and enjoyed it sitting at the breakfast bar. They had no urgent matters to attend to, as it was Saturday.

After they tidied the kitchen, they shared the shower, made love, and prepared for a day of leisure, though Tyson intended to go for a ride in the afternoon.

The couple was walking back to the living room when they heard a knock on the front door.

"Were you expecting company this morning?" Ashley asked him, and he shook his head.

He headed for the door while Ashley went to the kitchen to see what they had to make for dinner tonight.

Opening the door, Tyson froze. He couldn't move, and he couldn't speak.

"Who is it, dear?" Ashley called out, and that seemed to break his paralysis.

"It's Christy, and..."

He stood back and gestured for the young woman to enter. She was doing her best to not cry, but it was touch and go.

Ashley joined them and gasped.

On Christy's hip was a young male child, perhaps eighteen-months-old. He had his mother's gorgeous blue eyes, but the rest of his features were Tyson's. He even had Tyson's densely curled hair worn loose and long.

"Is... is this why you didn't come to the wedding?" Tyson asked faintly.

Christy nodded shakily.

Ashley was the first to recover. "He's beautiful! What's his name?"

Christy smiled at her in relief. "Aiyden."

"May I hold him?" the older woman asked.

Christy nodded and moved the boy to Ashley's happy embrace. The older woman smiled at the child and got a beautiful one in return. "Oh my, he's a charmer like his daddy," Ashley said with a coy smile for Tyson, who remained frozen on the spot. "Perhaps you two can discuss this situation out on the patio while I entertain this little one?"

Tyson and Christy nodded shakily and headed out the back door while Ashley found some noisy measuring spoons.

They took seats, and Tyson spoke first. "How do you spell it?"

"A-I-Y-D-E-N," Christy blurted.

"So... my father's name," Tyson said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Christy looked down at her lap in shame. "When I came to see you that weekend, I was going through a hard time. I told you about my boyfriend, but the truth was, I'd dropped him months earlier. I wanted to be with you, but I also wanted my career. I was making bad decisions. I stopped taking my birth control after I broke up with him, so I-I was fertile that weekend. We made love so many times, and it was so good! Then we spoke, and you helped me get my head on straight. I knew I had to concentrate on my career."

She took some deep breaths as the words were rushing out. When she felt calmer, she continued.

"I was going to take the Day-After pill, but... I just couldn't. When I discovered I was pregnant, I knew I had to keep the baby. He's a piece of you I can have in my life. I couldn't love him more."

Tyson was stunned by the confession. "Why didn't you tell me?" he repeated.

Christy shook her head. "I... I didn't want you to feel like you owed me anything. You were very clear that you didn't want me—"

"I never said I didn't want you, but let's face facts. I'm in my sixties, and you're in your twenties. You need to find a partner who'll grow old with you. You're still very young, and you have so much life ahead of you. Be patient, and keep your heart open."

She nodded, but her bottom lip was trembling. His heart went out for her. He pushed his chair out and turned to face her with his arms open. She immediately moved to sit on his lap, and the tears came as he rocked her in his arms.

They sat that way for a while until Christy managed to stop crying.

"I always feel so much better when I'm in your arms," Christy said quietly.

"You will find arms out there, which will give you comfort and more. I'll always be your friend and will always be there to give you comfort. But the rest is reserved for Ashley now."

They sat quietly, enjoying the simple pleasure of holding and being held. Christy stood and moved back to her chair.

"My next question is, why now?" Tyson asked.

Christy smiled tremulously at him and lifted her chin. "Do you remember when I said my company was expanding into Europe?" He nodded. "I had to refuse the position because I was carrying Aiyden at the time." She paused to take a breath. "The position has come up again, and this time it's not only Europe. It's global. They want me, but it involves a lot of travel. I wouldn't be able to get back home for more than one week out of four. The pay is more than double what I'm making now, and the experience I'd get from this is enormous. I can't turn it down!"

"But, you have Aiyden."

"Yes. I can't take him with me, and I don't have a partner to watch over him. I came home to introduce him to my parents— they didn't know either."

Tyson's eyebrows rose. "You didn't tell your parents? How did it go over when you did?"

"Daddy's not talking to me, and Mom is angry she missed out on the beginning part of his life, but she's thrilled to have a grandson. Aiyden charmed her as well." She sighed. "Mom says Daddy just needs time. She said he'll come around, but I know he holds grudges."

Tyson nodded. "You were going to ask them to watch over him?"

"No. I wanted to ask if you could. Aiyden needs his daddy."

Tyson's eyes widened in surprise. "I've never been a dad before."

"I'd never been a mom before, and I had to do it without support." She held up her hands in surrender. "Yes, I know that was my decision. I-I need help now."

Tyson saw this wasn't an easy request for the independent young woman to make. "This isn't a decision I can make on my own. Ashley gets an equal say. Let's go inside."

They re-entered the home and heard the joyful giggles of the young boy. They found him playing on the living room floor with Ashley, who beamed them a joyous smile. "He's such a smart little man!" She lifted a hand to get Tyson to sit on the floor next to her. He did as Christy sat on his other side. Aiyden immediately crawled onto Tyson's legs and reached up. He helped the boy stand, and little hands gripped his hair. He chattered excitedly as he examined the hair. He looked over to his mom and grabbed a fistful of his own.

Christy had happy tears in her eyes as she nodded to her son. "Yes, he has the same hair as you. He's your daddy."

"Da?" Aiyden asked.

Christy hiccupped in surprise at Aiyden's response, and happy tears continued to fall. "Yes, Daddy!"

Tyson was awestruck at the idea that this sharp little fellow was a child of his. He never expected to have children, never mind one this beautiful and smart. But then, maybe he was biased.

He looked over at Ashley. "Christy has an opportunity at work she can't afford to miss. She's asking if we could watch over Aiyden while she's traveling."

"Yes!" Ashley immediately gushed.

Tyson blinked in surprise at his wife. "It means a lot of time out of our schedules." He looked to Christy. "How long would you be in this new role?"

She held his eyes with hers. "Two to five years, but if it's as successful as we think it might be, it could be longer. All of my free time will be spent with Aiyden between trips."

Tyson nodded and looked to Ashley. "This house isn't really set up for another occupant—"

Ashley snorted. "That's the easiest adjustment. The spare bedroom we cleared out to turn into my writing studio can easily be converted back into a bedroom. We could do it in a few hours. Where are you staying tonight?" she asked Christy.

"I was going to get a hotel room in town," she replied.

"No! You can stay here!" Ashley gushed. She looked to Tyson. "Christy and I will go into town and pick up a bed and have it delivered this afternoon. Oh, what about a crib for Aiyden?"

"I have his crib in my minivan. All of his stuff actually," Christy said sheepishly. Tyson's eyebrows rose in surprise, and Aiyden's hands went after them. That was a little painful.

Ashley's face lit up once more. "Excellent!"

"Are you sure I'm not imposing too much on you? I-I mean, you only recently got married, and now here I am asking you to take care of my child," Christy said.

Ashley reached across Tyson to take Christy's hand. "I was never able to have my own children. That didn't mean I didn't want them. Now that I'm married to the man I should have been with all along, it's too late. Aiyden's arrival is perfect timing!" Seeing the concern on the younger woman's face, she moved to ease it. "Please don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to be his mother. That's always going to be you. I just have a lot of maternal love I've never had a chance to express."

Christy had happy tears in her eyes again. "Thank you!"

The two women stood and hugged, then rushed over to the spare bedroom to begin planning its conversion back to a bedroom. Tyson and Aiyden were left in the living room staring at each other, ignored by the lady folk.

Tyson grinned at his son, who still has his little fists in his dad's hair. Aiyden giggled at his grin and bounced happily on his chubby little legs. "Da! Da! Da!"

The oddest sensation rushed through him. It felt like nothing he'd ever felt before. When it passed, he suddenly knew he would protect this young man with his very life, and he'd do anything to ensure he was happy.

He pulled Aiyden into a hug and sniffed his neck and ear like a dog. The boy burst into giggles. He kissed the boy's cheeks. Little arms wrapped around his neck, and he got a kiss on his cheek, too.

Sensing he was being watched, he glanced toward the spare bedroom and saw Ashley and Christy standing there watching him play with his son. They both had hungry expressions on their faces.

Tyson raised an eyebrow as he looked into Ashley's eyes and subtly tilted his head. She picked up on the cue and glanced over at Christy to catch the tail end of the younger woman's lusty look. Christy turned to look at Ashley as her face went a fetching shade of pink.

"Let's go look at what's in your minivan," Ashley said, taking the other woman's hand to lead her to the front door. "As you're allowing me to be so intimately involved in the upbringing of your son, we should negotiate the terms." Then they were outside and beyond Tyson's incredulous ears.

He looked back at Aiyden, who tried to match Tyson's shocked expression.

"My first lesson to you. Always leave the negotiating to the womenfolk."

Aiyden burst into giggles at Tyson's serious expression.

"Too soon for those lessons?" Tyson asked as he nodded, and Aiyden nodded, too.

"Happy wife, happy life?" Tyson asked, and Aiyden nodded.

Tyson laughed delightedly. "Son, I think this is the start of something truly beautiful."