Between Yesterday & Forever

When the news finally called it—a heat wave this year—they weren’t kidding.

Even inside, with the air-conditioning blasting, I can still feel the heat pressing in through the windows anyway.

There’s only so much you can do to stay cool before your mind starts to slip—like Jack in The Shining. He got a haunted hotel and a breakdown. I get central air, a surveillance team, and guards who make it impossible to go anywhere unnoticed.

I can’t take it anymore. I need relief.

I walk to the kitchen, past the pale grey, neutral furniture, and pull open the freezer. Ice pop… or—oh, even better. I grab a bowl and fill it with ice cubes, drop onto one of the bar stools, and it’s heaven—the cold melting instantly as I drag it over my neck, my collarbone, my chest...

Just as I’m starting to feel the slightest bit of relief, the phone rings, snapping me out of it. I don’t even have to check—I know it’s Lucas. He won’t like it if I let it go to a second ring.

Where is that damn phone—

It buzzes again and I spot it, diving across the sofa to grab it just in time. I’m pretty sure I left skin behind on that landing. Still, the second I hear his voice, that giddy feeling hits me—like we’re still in high school.

“Hi, Lucas.”

“Why are you out of breath?”

His voice is a deep baritone that gives me goosebumps.

“I was looking for my phone.”

“Hm.”

“Baby, what’s going on?”

He could say anything and I’d react the same way. The sound of his voice alone makes my stomach dip like I’m cresting the first hill of a roller coaster.

“I’m done early. We could do dinner and a movie.”

“That sounds amazing.” I press the phone closer. “I have so many ideas for where we could go tonight.”

“I already have a plan. I’ll order from the Gondola, and we’ll watch a movie. You can pick what we watch. How does that sound?”

“Oh. Okay.” I swallow my disappointment. “That sounds good. I’ll see you soon, then. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The line goes dead.

I stare at my phone for a second, trying to focus on the upside. He’s coming home early. That’s a win. A big one.

Still, I can’t help feeling a little deflated. Staying in again. Watching another movie. Haven’t we already watched them all?

I peel myself off the kitchen stool—actually peel, because it’s a thousand degrees and I’ve been slowly fusing to the seat like a human grilled cheese.

God. I need a shower.

Every inch of me feels overheated and vaguely disgusting.

I take the stairs two at a time, shedding my clothes as soon as I hit my bedroom. This house is basically a giant fishbowl, and with guards everywhere, this is the only place I can strip without putting on a show. If Lucas knew they saw me, there’d be dead bodies around the yard—and I don’t want that on me. Though there are a couple I wouldn’t mind never seeing again.

I don’t even wait for the water to heat up. I step under the spray and let my mind drift—back to that day at the bank.

The bank, of all places.

I’d been bored, escorted like always. My guard—bored out of his mind—was posted by the door, doing his best impression of furniture while I withdrew cash. Sean wasn’t paying attention. A couple of girls were talking to him, and of course he was eating it up. Douchebag.

Lucas gives me an allowance—five hundred a week—which I use for toiletries or whatever I feel like. Everything else is online. I glance at Sean again, roll my eyes, and ask the teller to open a savings account. I use my Japanese name so it can’t be traced back to me. Not right away, anyway.

I take half the money and put it in the account.

God. That felt good.

Next stop: tampons and other feminine products. I don’t even need them—I just like making Sean uncomfortable.

Without question, he takes me to the bank. It doesn’t even cross his mind how often I’m going.

Still. I can appreciate it.

This was mine.

Being able to do this—getting away with it—makes me wonder if there are still things I could do without him watching, deciding, controlling every part of my life.

It was small.

But it was the beginning.

Not planning on getting out of the shower anytime soon, I reach for the shampoo. I need music. I grab my phone, hit play, and a second later it’s filling the bathroom—“Birds of a Feather,” Billie Eilish.

Cool water drifts over my skin. After rinsing the shampoo, I let the conditioner sit, standing there while the water runs over me and my mind does what it always does.

My mind drifts back to Lucas and the beginning, before any of it got complicated.

Lucas is a King—the CEO of K.I.N.G., a family empire that’s been around for generations: Keystone Industrial Network Group. Officially, they’re in logistics, shipping, infrastructure—all the boring words rich people use for businesses that quietly run half the world.

Cargo ships, ports, shipping routes, freight terminals. Things move because K.I.N.G. wants them to move. Things stop because K.I.N.G. says so.

I used to tune out whenever Lucas talked about it, smiling and nodding like I understood. What I did understand was that nothing crossed the Pacific without someone in the Accord knowing about it first.

But behind K.I.N.G. is something older.

The Obsidian Accord.

I only know about it because Lucas and I have been together so long.

We’re engaged. Someday, our firstborn will step into K.I.N.G. and inherit the CEO title. The Obsidian Accord, though, is different. It’s passed down in blood. And no matter how much I love Lucas, a criminal empire is never what I imagined for our child.

Funny, considering none of it was ever supposed to belong to Lucas.

It was supposed to be his brother’s.

Lucas and I had plans. Real plans. College. Marriage. Family.

A small place of our own. A future that didn’t involve empires, bloodlines, or the Obsidian Accord.

Then his brother died on a mission.

After that, everything changed.

They sent Lucas to Northpoint Mountain for six months.

Grief didn’t make his father softer. It made him harder.

When Lucas came home, it was obvious what had happened. His brother was gone, and now every expectation, every responsibility, every impossible standard had been dumped onto Lucas’s shoulders.

Sonny went with him.

I understood why. He was being brought in as Lucas’s second—his protector, the man responsible for keeping him alive. Their families took those roles seriously. Sonny’s father had served Lucas’s father, Maxwell King, for decades. He still did.

Still, it stung.

Sonny got six months at Lucas’s side while I got phone calls and silence.

And when they came back, something had changed.

Lucas carried himself differently.

Sonny looked at me differently.

Not openly. Not enough to call him on it. But there was something in his eyes now, something that hadn’t been there before.

Like I’d become a liability. A distraction.

Like Lucas could do better.

They came back different, both of them.

They weren’t high school boys anymore. They were grown men—bigger and harder.

Even the way they laughed had changed. More confident. More dangerous. Like they were in on a joke the rest of us weren’t.

It was like they came down from that mountain ruling something, and the rest of us were just expected to fall in line.

I didn’t know where that left me.

Turns out, while Lucas and Sonny came down that mountain looking like they ruled a kingdom, I’d somehow been cast as the princess in the tower.

Safe. Protected. Lonely.

My job was to stay safe, stay put, and wait for my prince to come home when he had time for me.

Sounds romantic until you realize most fairy tales skip over the part where the princess spends most of her life alone.

At first, it was fine. He was jealous, and I’ll admit it—I found it flattering.

Who wouldn’t?

But flattering turned into restrictions. Then rules. Then a life I barely recognized.

His jealousy—his paranoia—peeled my life away piece by piece.

My friends were gone.

The job I loved? Gone. He couldn’t stand the idea of me interacting with other men. My boss eventually got tired of the guy permanently stationed in the store and parked outside.

Honestly, I can’t blame him.

My friends stopped coming around, too.

Which is fair—nothing kills the vibe like a silent man built like a weapon standing five feet behind you.

Before I knew it, the tower wasn’t just a metaphor anymore.

It was my whole life.

And now here we are.

I remember when he’d take me out on his boat and disappear into the islands with me for a weekend.

We’d find some quiet beach, spread out a picnic, swim if the weather cooperated, and make love with no schedule and nowhere else to be.

Then we head back to Vancouver and do whatever we want. Shop. Stay in ridiculous hotels. Go to concerts. Try new restaurants. Waste entire weekends on each other.

I remember being happy.

The worst part is that I still am when he’s with me.

I still love him.

God, I love him.

We just don’t do any of that anymore.

Lucas belongs to the Obsidian Accord now, and the less I see of him, the more guards seem to grow out of the landscaping.

He has given me a home and everything I could possibly want, except friends and except him.

His jealousy pushed everyone else away.

My family doesn’t have time for me. I practically raised myself. We exchange one text every six months and call it a relationship.

No friends. No money of my own. Nowhere to go.

Some nights I honestly can’t tell which scares me more—being alone or accepting that love might not be enough anymore.

Wow. Feel sorry for yourself much?

I crank the tap to cold—full cold, the kind that punches the air out of you—and stay there just long enough to feel it.

The dress I pick is summery—gauzy pink floral cotton, spaghetti straps, the kind of thing that catches the faintest breeze and turns it into a favor. I dry off fast. He’ll be home any minute.

That’s the frustrating thing about loving Lucas. No matter how irritated I am with him, I still find myself excited when he’s on his way home.

I use two sprays of perfume, sweet and floral. I’ve worn it for years, but Lucas loves it, which means it’s been unofficially claimed as his property.

Then I catch sight of my hand in the mirror and stare at the ring as it catches the light—perfect, blinding, impossible to look away from.

We designed it together. Right after I graduated. Right before he went away.

The diamond catches the light. My thoughts wander. The wedding. The future. The life we’ve been building since we were teenagers.

Then the familiar doubts start sneaking in.

Am I happy?

Am I not?

My shoulders tighten.

That’s usually my cue to stop thinking.

I grab the Xanax from my nightstand, take one, and lie back on the bed, waiting for it to kick in.

I’ve been on antidepressants for almost a year now. I booked the appointment myself. Sat there trying to explain the crying that came out of nowhere, the mornings I couldn’t get out of bed, the hollow feeling I didn’t have words for.

I thought it was Lucas.

It wasn’t just Lucas.

It was everything.

Turns out, loneliness and heartbreak weren’t the whole story. It takes months before I have a name for it.

The diagnosis came later: bipolar depression.

The doctor was kind. Gave me something for the dark, something for the fog.

It helps a little. I cry less and stare at walls a little more productively.

Some things are easier now.

Lucas does everything he’s supposed to do.

He came to the follow-up and held my hand the whole time. He wants me to get better, and I believe that.

So why does it still hurt to be with him?

I tell everyone I am better, even when I am not. Somewhere along the way, I forgot how to be alone without feeling lonely. I need to learn how to enjoy my own company before I can expect anyone else to.

I said yes to this ring thinking it was a promise of more freedom, not less. That once we were married, Lucas would finally feel secure enough to stop treating every man on the planet like a threat.

Maybe then I could breathe.

The front door opens downstairs.

My stomach flips.

Lucas is home.

Early.

Thank God.

My heart trips over itself the second he fills the doorway—dark eyes, black hair styled to look accidental, which it absolutely isn’t. Ten years later, and he still gets to me like I’m fifteen.

And the body. The one every woman in a ten-mile radius notices the second he walks into a room. Except I’m the only one who’s seen all of it.

I guess I get jealous too.

He gives me that sideways smile—half serious, half amused.

Every lonely thought I’ve had all afternoon evaporates.

I take a running start and throw myself at him like a golden retriever.

He catches me easily, hands at my waist as my legs lock around him. He hums against my skin.

“Sweetheart, I can’t get enough of you.” Another inhale. “Seriously. I think I’m addicted.”

He starts kissing down my neck, across my collarbone, and my brain stops working.

His grip tightens possessively before he asks, “What did you do today? Did you see anyone?”

The question is soft.

The tone isn’t.

Whatever I say next sets the whole night.

I hold his gaze. Make sure he sees me.

“Nothing. I just cleaned.”

His eyes still wander around the room, checking corners, doorways, shadows. Looking for something that isn’t there.

I cup his face and turn it back toward me.

“Lucas.”

I wait until his eyes meet mine.

“Look at me.”

I hold his gaze, giving him nowhere else to look.

“Nothing. No one’s here.” My thumbs brush over his jaw. “It’s just me. I love you. I promise.”

The kiss is slow this time. He pulls back setting me down

“Come on. Let’s eat. You must be starving.”

“Please. I’m ready to stuff myself.”

We take our plates and wine out to the terrace.

The heat finally starts to ease as the sun sinks lower. For a while, it’s just us, good food, and the hum of summer settling in around the house.

No guards. No Obsidian. No future.

Just dinner.

It’s a gorgeous evening.

By eight, we’re done eating and just sitting there.

He looks relaxed.

It makes something in my chest ache.

There he is.

The boy I fell in love with.

He leans back in his chair and smiles at me.

“What romance movie are we watching this evening?”

He already knows the answer. Romance movies are the only ones I like.

It’s still unbearably hot and even sitting out on the terrace sounds excruciating. I hesitate, unsure how Lucas will react, whether this will turn into an argument I’m not in the mood for. I ask the way a child asks for extra dessert—sweetly, like being cute might improve my odds. “Can we please, pretty please, go for a walk?” I give him my best doe eyes.

I mean, look at me. I’m adorable.

He smiles back. “How can I say no to that beautiful face?”

Jackpot. Never underestimate the power of a cute face.

I bounce up from my seat and then on my feet. “Thank you, thank you. I love you forever.”

His eyes linger on me a little too long. I know I should stop before we never make it out the door. “Let me grab my purse.”

“While you’re at it, change your clothes,” he calls out.

I glance down at myself. “It’s hot. I’ll be fine. I don’t need to change.”

“You are hot, and all I can see are your tits and ass. The dress is practically see-through.”

His look says, Don’t argue with me. If you want to go out, this is what you’ll be wearing.

He takes my wrist and guides me toward the bedroom closet. The look he gives me says enough—this is not a discussion. He picks out a T-shirt and a pair of light cotton pants. I do not argue. I am just relieved he has agreed to go out at all. I change quickly, grateful for the short sleeves, and slip on a pair of strappy sandals.

We leave through the back garden and step out onto the street.

He goes first, like he always does. It’s something I learned a long time ago — even before the Obsidian Accord became such a constant part of our lives. He surveys the area, makes sure everything is safe, and only then do I follow.

Across the road, I spot Sonny. I smile and wave, knowing I will get the smallest response possible—a quarter nod. If there were an eighth, he’d give me that. Of course he is there. He always is. Seeing him means we are safe. You do not start trouble when Lucas and Sonny are nearby. They are practically law in most of Canada. It makes me feel protected and trapped all at once.

I hate thinking badly about Lucas or Sonny. They’ve kept me safe for years.

We walk hand in hand.

Part of me feels proud—like I’m showing him off.

The other part watches his attention drift. Counting who looks at me.

I’ve learned not to react. That doesn’t mean I like it. I tolerate it mostly to avoid an argument — the kind where I don’t get to leave the house afterward.

“I’ve missed this,” he says quietly, lifting my hand and kissing the back of it.

“I have, too.” I squeeze his hand.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. As soon as I was done, I came straight home. I couldn’t wait another minute.”

I lean into his shoulder.

“I have to go up to Northpoint Mountain early tomorrow.”

I frown. He’s my only real company and he’ll be gone again — who knows for how long. “You’ve been up there a lot lately.”

“I know. But summers are busy. Sonny and I are training the lower-level guards to replace the ones moving up.”

I don’t argue. I just listen, taking in the night around us, appreciating every minute I have with him.

As we walk toward the lake, the heat becomes unbearable. I get an idea — something playful — and I look up at him with a smile.

He gives me a look that says don’t you dare and loosens his grip on my hand.

That’s all the encouragement I need.

I take off running. I kick off my sandals, drop my top, my pants, and finally my underwear.

I am a little too far from the lake, but it is only five feet. I run for it. I am going to enjoy this, and I can handle him being mad at me. I am going to get him to have fun with me.

I love being in the lake. It’s so refreshing, but I have to admit I get a little scared when the water starts to go dark, almost black. I don’t get out far. I call for him.

“Lucas, come in. The water is so warm. Come on, please. I love you forever.” I know he’ll come after me — he wants to protect me. I’ll feel less like there’s a monster underneath me ready to drag me down.

From the water, Lucas is not impressed. He gives me that look again — annoyed now. I don’t care. He can never really stay mad at me too long, and when it’s a fight between just me and him, I’m pretty confident in my ability to win. Especially when I bat my lashes and wiggle my butt.

He reaches the water’s edge and crouches, gathering my clothes piece by piece. He folds his arms, fighting a smile.

“You know I already love you forever.” His gaze drifts over to me. “Only me, sweetheart. Don’t forget who you belong to.”

I’m winning him over.

“You know this is not what I wanted to do tonight.”

His eyes find mine across the water.

“Miko.” His voice drops. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He gives me that amused, annoyed look as he slowly strips off his clothes — takes off his T-shirt, which instantly makes me feel myself getting warm. Then his shoes, then his shorts, and nothing else but his boxer briefs. I’m just sitting in the water watching.

He dives in under the water. I don’t see a splash or him anywhere. He comes up from behind, wrapping his arms around my waist. I instantly wrap my legs around him — not just because I want to, but because I’m more afraid of what’s under this black water. I give him a kiss, and he kisses me back with a heat and passion that could light up the lake.

His eyes stay on me.

“You see why we don’t go out?”

There it is. The needle scratches right off the record. I have heard this line a hundred times, and it lands the same way every time, like a hand pressing down on the top of my head. I push back, kicking and trying to put water between us.

“Hey, hey.” He reaches for me through the water. “It’s okay.”

“Miko.” His hand closes around my thighs. “Stop. Stop.”

The second stop comes gentler, more like a plea than a command.

His voice drops into that low, reasonable register, the one he uses right after he’s done something I’m allowed to be upset about and just before he convinces me I’m not.

“Baby. You know how I get. People out there will try to get to you to get to me. I can’t have that. Do you understand?”

I don’t want to spoil the whole night.

He kisses me softly at first. Then his hand tightens on my waist, his expression changing as the kiss deepens.

When he pulls back, his eyes are hooded and his expression has gone dangerously intent.

I can feel him pressing at my entrance between my legs. He kisses me, working his way to my exposed breasts and nipping at my nipples. Heat rushes through me. I spring up and kiss him, thrusting my tongue so deep into his mouth I can practically feel his tonsils. He returns the kiss, giving me what I desperately need. He pulls us closer to the drop-off near the shore so he can get a good stance while the water still covers us. I hold him tighter, wrapped around him, he seems fine as he pulls out of me and then slowly pushes back in.

I grind down on him, rotating my hips with enough pressure on my clit to tear a scream out of me.

“I love it when you cum for me.”

He kisses me again, his thrusts light as he holds me close. I tilt my hips closer, taking more of him in. I feel the shudder that runs through him as he hits me deep. He makes this feral sound in his throat and then his whole body convulses.

I am still shaking, wrapped around him with my face in his neck.

Still leaning back, I let myself sway in the water. His body warm, his grip tight. I let it cascade over me and through my hair. Light as air.

We wade there another fifteen minutes before he climbs out first and tells me to wait while he scans the tree line for prying eyes. After a moment, he gives a small nod toward the woods. Sonny is standing there.

Of course Sonny is there. He’s always there. I’m starting to think he just materializes whenever I leave the house. He’s Lucas’s best friend, but there’s something about him that makes me think he doesn’t like me.

Lucas helps me out of the water. He gathers my clothes and hands them to me piece by piece, starting with my top. I’m almost dressed — one leg in my trousers, reaching for the waistband — when I hear voices. Male voices. Footsteps.

I glance over my shoulder and see a small group of tourists, a few mountain bikers who’ve come down from the hill to cool off. It’s normal. People do it all the time.

I’m a second away from being fully dressed when one of them does something stupid and whistles. It might not even be for me. But when I look at Lucas, his face changes.

The men are looking past him, over his shoulder, at me.

Lucas is already moving.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he snaps. “Are you looking at my woman?”

“Hey man, relax,” one of them says.

“Take it easy,” another adds. “We’re just saying your girl’s got a cute ass.”

“Lucas, don’t —”

He either does not hear me or decides it does not matter.

In three strides, he is on the first guy, knocking him to the ground. Another man lunges forward to pull Lucas off, and Lucas elbows him in the face.

“Lucas, stop right now!” He doesn’t. He headbutts the third.

Within seconds they’re all down — groaning, scrambling, stunned.

One of them spits blood and laughs nervously. “What the fuck is wrong with you, man? We’re just saying your woman’s hot. Chill out.”

Lucas doesn’t respond. He turns and kicks the man in the face.

The tourists freeze in shock. This is not what they thought Whistler would be. It is probably the least chill thing they have experienced all day.

Lucas signals Sonny with nothing more than a look and a tilt of his chin. I see Sonny step forward toward the men.

Lucas grabs my wrist and drags me away. I yank my arm free and storm ahead.

“I don’t want to hear it, Lucas.”

After a few steps, I spin back toward him.

“Why are you like this? Why do you have to be like this? I don’t understand.”

“Don’t start with me, Miko,” he snaps, pacing faster.

“You make me like this.”

“Do you like making me mad? This is what you do. This is why you don’t go out. This is all your fault.”

Without saying another word, I walk ahead of him in silence, knowing he’s only two steps behind.

When we get home, I slam the bedroom door.

I run through the whole night in my head: the dress, the lake, and the tourists who just looked at me. Then Lucas hit one of them anyway. I stood there saying his name like it would stop him, but it never does. I already know how tomorrow goes. He will say something that makes sense, and I will nod and mean it. I always mean it. That is what makes me the angriest.