by Kay Maree
“Jesus, Quincy. Surely this isn’t totally fucking new news to you. You must have had some idea.”
He was right, I had. I’d seen the way he looked at me, especially when he thought nobody else was watching. I’d also felt the heat continue to sizzle between us—even as King and I grew closer—particularly on stage. But while it was just an inkling I had, a ‘maybe’, not a ‘definitely’, I could deny it, and pretend it wasn’t happening. Now he’d verbalized his feelings, and given them a name, I could no longer pretend they didn’t exist.
I shrugged, not prepared to commit to my knowledge in words. “We shouldn’t be fighting like this. You need rest. Thank you for telling me. It can’t have been easy.”
“It’s okay, it’s just words. No biggie.” But as he spoke, he turned away from me and looked toward the far corner of the sparse hospital room, his eyes unfocused.
I was pretty sure what he’d just said was a bunch of bull crap, but like I’d told him, he needed his rest, and I wasn’t about to call him on it. As though on cue, he tried, and failed, to stifle a huge yawn. Even if he’d succeeded, he couldn’t hide the droop of his eyelids as they fought impending sleep.
“Quit talking. You need your rest. Sleep. We’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Okay, but Quin?”
“Yeah?”
“Hold me a while?” His eyes were already firmly shut, so I couldn’t read his expression, but his voice told me everything I needed to know. He sounded like a lost little boy. I swallowed past the growing lump in my throat and ignored the thudding in my chest.
“Sure. Scooch over, I could use some shuteye myself. It’s been a long-ass night.”
He shuffled across the mattress, turning onto his side. I slipped in beside him, my front pressed to his back, and crossed my arm over his body. He reached for my hand, interlacing our fingers, and I squeezed tight.
“Go to sleep. Everything will be better when you wake up.” I wasn’t sure if I was talking more to him or myself, but I let the tiredness carry me under as consciousness drifted from my grasp.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
KING
When I came back from grabbing food and coffee, the sight of the two of them curled up asleep together like that took my breath away.
Rome looked as at peace as I’d ever seen him—he was normally so tightly wound that even in sleep, he looked ready for a fight. But today he seemed like a weight had been lifted, not just from his shoulders, but also from his soul.
Quincy looked gorgeous, as usual, with her wild curls fanning out across the pillow like a bi-racial Pre-Raphaelite angel. But then that was a given—she was stunning, no matter what she was doing.
Walking into the room, anyone who didn’t know better could be forgiven for mistaking the two of them for a couple, as they spooned. They were so achingly beautiful, they almost seemed like a mirage—something I’d imagined in my emotionally charged, sleep-deprived delirium.
As utterly fucking perfect as they looked together, I didn’t know what to think. My feelings hovered somewhere between jealous rage, and turned on beyond belief. The boner swelling uncomfortably in my pants was definitely fueled by a mixture of both.
I flopped into the easy chair by the side of the bed, that was anything but easy—hard, and uncomfortable would be a better description. Irritatingly, I’d lost my appetite—I was too preoccupied by the sight of Quin and Rome together to even think about eating—so I chugged down my coffee, and let my cluttered mind wander.
Despite the recent caffeine hit, I drifted off to sleep a few times, only to wake up with the worst crick in my neck, or having lost feeling in various extremities. Whoever designed hospital furniture needed to stop treating it like airport lounge furniture—which was designed to discourage people from dwelling there for long periods—it wasn’t like people waiting around in hospital rooms had any other option.
When it became obvious that I wasn’t going to get any more sleep, I stood up to stretch my legs—and hopefully restore the blood flow. The movement must have disturbed Quincy, as she woke up with a start, blinking myopically, her gray-green eyes unfocused as she tried to acclimate to her surroundings. Her face lit up when she noticed me watching her, but as she went to speak, I pressed my fingers to my lips in a shushing motion.
“Don’t wake him,” I whispered. She nodded, then went about extracting herself from the bed without disturbing Rome. She padded across the room, and greeted me with a warm smile, tiptoeing to give me a PG 13 peck on the lips.
“Hi.” Her voice was a low whisper.
“Hi yourself. You sleep okay?” I kept my voice equally quiet.
“I guess. How long have I been out?”
“Let’s just say that coffee isn’t drinkable anymore.”
“King! You should have woken me,” She hissed, keeping her voice low.
“Why? There was no need. Better that one of us got some sleep than neither of us.”
“We could have taken turns, or something.”
“Taken turns spooning with Rome? No thanks. I really think you’re better suited to that role than me, somehow.”
She looked at the floor sheepishly. “We weren’t spooning, I think he just needed a little comfort, you know?”
“For sure. It’s okay, I understand. And you’d better believe that if ever I almost die, I’ll be taking the hugs wherever I can get ‘em.” Fuck, I loved her.
“If you ever put me through what he just did, I’ll kill you myself.”
Despite the funk I was in, I laughed quietly at her using my own words against me. “Let’s go outside, so we can talk properly.”
“Uh, okay.” She was clearly hesitant.
I turned to her sharply as soon as the door was closed behind us, my eyes zeroing in on hers. I had her up against the wall, my lips smashed to hers, upping the rating of our earlier kiss to X-rated in no time. I slipped a hand to her throat, squeezed a little, and at the same time, pushed my knee between her legs, to add pressure to her clit. When I finally let her up for air, my voice was sharp.
“Did you really choose me, or was it just because Rome was unavailable? Emotionally, I mean.”
“What? What are you talking about? Where’s this coming from?”
“I was listening to the two of you talking before.”
“Oh, you were, were you?” Her face was like thunder, just like our song. “Well my mom always used to say that people who sneak around and spy on other people deserve whatever they find out.” Her mom was a wise woman.
“That’s as may be, but you didn’t answer the question.”
“Because you shouldn’t be fucking asking, King. But since you are, you might as well know that I chose you for you. It wasn’t a competition, and you weren’t the consolation prize instead of Rome.”
“So you knew he was into you all this time?” I tried, and failed, to keep the anger from my voice.
“Not for certain, but I had an inkling. A strong inkling, yeah. I’m sure you must have, too.” She was very astute. Not that it surprised me. I’d known that from day one. “But I ignored it, because I was focused on you.” She sought me out with her eyes.
“So why do I feel like the fucking ‘also ran’ in all of this?” I paced the hall, the mounting tension in my body preventing me from standing in one spot.
“Honestly? Because the last sixteen hours have been a rollercoaster of emotion—the highs and lows of which have fucked with all of our minds.” She wasn’t wrong there. I felt half out of my mind with delirium.
“And because part of the brotherly love you have for each other is the inevitable sibling rivalry. You’re so used to Rome winning that you’ve resigned yourself to it always being that way. But that’s not how it is this time. Not that I’m saying that I’m a prize for either of you, but to carry on with the analogy... for once, you’ve won. I chose you because I wanted you.” I wanted to throat punch myself for even asking the question.
“No you don’t. You sound like a sleep-deprived guy who’s still recovering from the shock of his best friend almost dying. Most people wouldn’t be at their best under those circumstances. Cut yourself some slack already.”
“You’re too good. Thank you for being so understanding.” I looped my arms around her shoulders, and smiled down into her waiting eyes.
“Don’t get used to it. I’m feeling generous due to the extenuating circumstances, but you’ve used up your one free asshole pass already. Pull the jealous boyfriend routine on me again, and I won’t be so forgiving. That said, I’m down for it any time you want to kiss me like that again, for whatever reason. Any. Time.”
“Am I?”
“Are you what?” Confusion clouded her features. “Allowed to kiss me like that at any time? Yeah, of course. Definitely.”
“Your boyfriend. You said I was acting like a jealous boyfriend.”
“You already know the answer to that, you’re just fishing for compliments at this point. Now shut up and kiss me like you want to make me forget your best friend.” I cringed inwardly at her recall of the jealous words that had slipped out involuntarily in the heat of the moment.
She didn’t need to tell me twice. I pushed her against the wall, and kissed her with everything I had. She gave me everything right back, kissing away the doubt, fear, and confusion that had plagued me moments before. She was mine, and I was hers, and that’s the way it would always be
About the Author
MV ELLIS knows what it’s like to fall head over heels in love with a badass musician. She followed her heart halfway around the world to be with one. She moved from London to Sydney after a steamy holiday romance with a sexy bass player in sultry Brazil.
Twelve years, two children and a dog later, and she’s still smitten. All this with a guy she sat next to on a bus for 36 hours! She has toured internationally as a ‘WAG’, and her experiences inspire her writing.
Ellis’ love of romance began when she was 11 years old, after a summer spent secretly reading her auntie’s books. She’s been a sucker for an alpha hero and strong heroine ever since.
An avid reader, Ellis always knew that she’d write a book of her own one day. She was right about that. Following a career spanning advertising, marketing, and social media, she finally wrote Catching London in 2017.
She has continued to expand the Heartless Few series beyond Catching London, with releases planned through to 2020. In addition, she has launched a new four-part series, Rough Ink series, set in the sexy world of a New York tattoo studio. Expect the same sexy badass guys, angst galore, witty banter, scorching bedroom scenes, and kickass sassy women; but with a whole new world, and cast of characters to get to know and love. Zed, the first book in the series launched in June 2019.
Author Links
Website
https://mvellis.com/
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instagram.com/arloandlondon
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Coming Home
CARI ROBE
COMING HOME
Copyright © 2019 by Cari Robe
The right of Cari Robe to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical or mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Editing by Autumn Bryant and Tracey Nyland
Book Dedication:
For anyone who ever wanted a second chance; happy holidays!
Present
The first rays of sunlight cast a maroon kaleidoscope through my closed eyelids. It must be one hell of a sunrise. I saw more than three thousand sunrises as an enlisted man. This is my first August as a civilian in almost ten years and I don’t intend to miss a single thing. My insomnia will help make sure of it.
I love August. I love the way it smells. I love the way it makes me feel. In the military so much is the same. You wake up at the same time and lights go out at the same time. When you are overseas even the seasons are all the same. I have to remind myself for the second time I am not in the military anymore.
I have been home for a little over a month and working at Butch’s Auto Shop for almost the same amount of time. I lean back in the office chair I have slept in more times than I care to admit and stretch my arms behind me. The chair groans and so do I as the kinks loosen in my back and shoulders. I wanted a job doing what I love, repairing and rebuilding cars and that would keep my mind off all the things I managed to keep at bay with the sameness of the military.
I don’t want to think about the reason I joined the service.
I don’t want to think about the reason I left the service.
I don’t want to think about the things I left behind and can’t get back.
So far, all working at the shop has done is give me a place to be when I can’t sleep at night, but it hasn’t managed to keep my mind occupied. I give my arms and legs one more feline stretch before starting the paperwork for the car I finished earlier. No one else will be in for at least two hours so I can take my time. It’s Thursday, the calm before the storm is what Butch calls today. The weekends are always the busiest with people needing oil changes, tire rotations and other maintenance they don’t have time for during the week.
We only have three cars lined up right now, so if I rush through them, I won’t have anything to keep me occupied. I spend an hour or so finishing paperwork and organizing the office before the phone rings. It’s early but it could be Butch checking in on me.
“Butch’s Auto, how can I help you?”
“Hi, we are calling to request a tow truck for one of our Triple A members.”
“Of course. We have a tow truck, but we actually don’t open for another hour.”
“Sir, I understand, it’s just our member needs to get her daughter to school and it seems like she’s having a pretty bad morning. Is there any way that you could make an exception?”
Looks like I found something to fill my morning with. I didn’t really need the guilt trip the agent laid on me, but it definitely got my attention.
“Give me the address I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“That is wonderful news. I’ll tell her you’ll be there soon to pick them up.”
I get the location from her and the vehicle type before we disconnect the call. I call Butch and let him know I’ll be taking the tow truck out to pick up a truck that broke down. I leave out the part about it being a woman and her daughter, so I can avoid the shop gossip. Anyone who thinks women gossip hasn’t spent much time with a group of guys. It’s their favorite thing to do to pass the time and so far, I’ve managed to stay out of it. I intend to keep it that way.
I fire up the truck and let it idle before I head to the address the agent gave me over the phone. Even though it’s seventy-five degrees outside the truck needs to warm up. Butch made me promise I would always give her at least five minutes each time it was being used. He’s had this truck as long as he’s had the shop and according to him, “I intend them to both outlast me.”
I turn up the radio start driving
to the address they gave me over the phone. It’s only a few minutes to the destination but there is something about riding down the road with the windows down and radio volume up. It isn’t long before I see the outline of a truck on the side of the road. It takes a few seconds for me to get a good look at the exact model. When I do, I am immediately transported back to the first time I saw a truck just like it.
Past
I stare at the rusted, bent and worn pile of metal with three tires, masquerading as a truck in Mike’s driveway.
“What do you think, Tommy?”
“Damn, Mike, where did you get this thing from the dump?”
“You’re an asshole.” He lands a soft punch on my shoulder to express his dismay but laughs while he does it. “You’re the asshole who is going to help me get her running.”
“This thing doesn’t even run! Are you crazy?” Outside I am putting up a good fight but inside I’m thrilled at the prospect of a challenge. Mike knows me too well.
“Yeah, crazy confident you can make it work before homecoming. What do you think?” Flattery works every time and if Mike had a superpower it would be getting his way. He seems to always know just how to make that happen no matter who the audience is.
“I think you have the words mechanically inclined and magical confused.”
At that we both double over laughing.
The truth is, this rusty heap has some deep hidden beauty I can see already. It’s an old Chevy and it will need some serious work before homecoming, but my best friend knows I can do it. He’s stroking my ego enough to get me to agree but I want to see if he has a little more incentive for me.
“So, we’re taking this to homecoming, huh. Who are we talking with us?”
“Well I’m not going to be your date, if that’s what you’re asking.”