But with Taryn around, the jagged edges inside him were smoothing out. She made him laugh. She didn’t let him take himself too seriously. And she kept him on his toes. Then, at night when they crawled into bed, he lost himself completely to the sweet oblivion of her touch, her words, her body. She’d become a drug he couldn’t get enough of.
It was dangerous territory to tread in.
He tried not to think about it, tried to just be in the moment and enjoy it. He’d learned long ago how fleeting good moments were. Reality had a bad way of crashing a perfectly good party. They were on a fantastic ride, but that train ultimately had nowhere to go but dead ends. He was leaving before the end of the year. And even if he changed that plan and figured out a way to stay, he’d still be living under a false name. He’d still be who he was.
Taryn deserved more than that. She couldn’t introduce him to her family. She couldn’t tell her friends who he was. He would blow up her life and risk her relationships. There was no path forward for them. Plus, if word got out they were together, the media would pounce on it and milk it for every sensational ounce.
His stomach turned.
He was letting this go too far, getting too selfish. No matter how good it felt to have Taryn in his life, the risk was always there, pressing at the back of his mind like a bad headache. He could ruin the calm, successful life she’d worked so hard for. Or, at the very least, make a living hell out of it again. He could not—would not—do that to her.
They needed to talk. Soon. He needed to tell her about his plan and when he’d be leaving. Go forth with eyes wide open. Because if this kept on like it was, he could do something really terrible. He could forget this had an end and fall in love with her.
Maybe he already had.
Shoving the thought away, he flipped on the vacuum and pushed it forward with more force than necessary. He couldn’t go there.
He stepped around the bed, putting vacuum lines in the carpet in a methodical way. The sound and the motion soothed his frayed nerves. He started to make a list in his head to get his mind on anything else. He wanted to clean a few more things and then jump in the shower since he hadn’t rinsed off after work today. He and Taryn could go out, or they could pick up some steaks and borrow Rivers’s grill.
A loud crackling sound broke Shaw from his train of thought. The vacuum was trying to suck up something too big. He switched off the power and squatted down. He was famous for sucking up random socks that had fallen under the bed. But when he flipped the machine over and looked, he saw the culprit immediately and smirked. A condom wrapper.
Not a surprise. He should probably buy stock in the company that made them, based on how quickly he and Taryn went through them. But this wrapper was a different color from the brand they’d recently been using. He frowned and pulled it out of the vacuum’s roller. Half of it was gone, but he could still read the label.
It took him a second to realize it was from the box they’d found that first night when Taryn had dug through his drawer. He smiled at the memory of her teasing him about his lube and then her true cheer of victory when she’d found the condoms. He loved that about her, her complete lack of awkwardness or shyness about sex. She was a straight talker. Maybe it was the psychologist in her, but she had no qualms about telling him what she liked and wanted and what she didn’t. Shaw flipped the wrapper over, trying to remember when he’d even bought that box, but then his eyes caught on the small stamped writing at the bottom of the wrapper.
Exp. November—
Shaw blinked, trying to adjust his vision. Surely, that said November 2019. But when he looked again, his stomach dipped.
2016.
Sixteen. Not nineteen. It wasn’t just expired, it was almost two and a half years past that date.
2016. 2016. Years. Past.
Oh shit.
His mind rushed back to that first night. Taryn leaning over and smiling at him. She had told him the condoms were good. They’d used the rest of the box over the next few weeks. She was always cautious about protection with him. But…hell. The vision was clear in his head now, her smiling. She hadn’t had her glasses on. She’d misread it. Then they’d just assumed the condoms were okay every other time they’d plucked one from the economy-size box.
Shaw sat down on the edge of the bed, his heartbeat thumping behind his eyeballs and his mouth dry. Expired. Okay. He didn’t need to panic. There were no diseases to worry about. He’d been tested since Deidra. And he didn’t recall any problems with the condoms. None had fallen apart. But had he looked closely every time? Could any have had a tear?
He felt sick.
Flashbacks to Deidra raced through his head. The unexpected pregnancy. The panic. Then the acceptance that he was going to be a father. Then the utter, annihilating grief when he found out the baby was gone.
He could not get anyone pregnant.
He definitely could not get Taryn pregnant.
Suddenly, the specter of their shared past, always looming in the background, became a full-out monster, snapping its jaws and threatening to consume him in one big chomp. He put his head in his hands and tried to get ahold of his runaway thoughts. He didn’t need to freak out yet. The condoms had probably worked. He and Taryn hadn’t had issues with them. Expiration didn’t necessarily mean completely ineffective.
Everything was probably fine.
Please, God, let everything be fine.
* * *
Taryn headed up to Shaw’s apartment and stretched her neck as she climbed the stairs. After so many hours sitting at that desk and making phone calls, she felt as if her spine had fused to her shoulder blades. She’d almost been tempted to work out for a few minutes after to loosen things up. Almost. The gym had become a mental respite for her, but she was still a little sore from a full obstacle workout two nights ago.