by Maisey Yates
In ways that she loved.
He moved his hands down to her hips, covering those handprints he had left behind, and he gripped her hard as he thrust home. He raised his forehead against her, those blue eyes blazing into hers as he filled her, over and over again.
She couldn’t keep looking at him like this. She couldn’t endure this. This deep, unending build of pressure inside her that seemed to have no end.
And then he thrust one last time, his breath leaving his body on a hard shudder, his body pulsing inside her. He closed his eyes, shaking, and that sharp burst of need she could feel coming from him burst inside her, her orgasm rolling over her endlessly, relief and regret all in one. Because she had wanted that to go on forever, as sure as she had been that it would destroy her.
But what a way to go.
At the hands of Jacob Dalton.
The rough, capable hands.
She was sweaty and covered in paint and buzzing with a kind of pleasure she had never realized her body was capable of feeling.
She had known her body could feel pain.
She had known it could feel trauma.
She had known it could feel sadness.
That it could feel like a blank void of absolutely nothing at all.
But she hadn’t known it could feel like this.
It was like he had taken her body and gifted it back to her in a way she could never have guessed another human could.
Her eyes started to sting, and she blinked rapidly, moving away from him.
“You’re covered in paint,” he said, sitting up, his muscles rippling.
“I know,” she said, looking around. “And my clothes are worse.”
“Guess you better head straight home,” he said.
“Probably,” she responded.
She really didn’t have any desire to try to explain this, not to anyone.
She gathered her clothes up and dressed quickly. She was dimly aware that he was doing the same. She wasn’t sure what he did with the condom. Or the wrapper. But when she looked, both were gone, and he was dressed again.
He still had paint all over him. So did she.
She didn’t know whether she found it disconcerting or comforting that it was impossible for the two of them to even pretend like nothing had happened. At the very least they looked like they had been involved in one of those weird marathons where people threw paint on you.
Except, on her hips, she knew that if anyone looked, they would find his handprints.
And there would be no way to pretend it was from anything other than exactly what it was from.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Hopefully you can get all the paint off,” he commented.
“Yeah, you too.”
“Hey, if I can’t, I’m staying home. They don’t need me here half as much as they need you.”
“Don’t you dare,” she said. “You can’t abandon me.”
“You didn’t even think you needed me.”
“It is nice to have you here.”
For the most part the boys had been good, but it was good to know that she had Jacob for backup if she needed anything.
“I’ll have to make a record of that. Remind you several times a day that you said that. That it’s nice having me here.”
“I’ll deny it,” she said.
“Deny it all you want. I’ll always know you said it.”
“Look,” she said, trying to find a way to take what had happened between them and make it light. To gloss over it. What she wanted to do was cry. Curl up into a fetal position and let herself howl. In happiness, and sadness. In just a motion. Because something in her felt fundamentally changed by having been joined to him. By the rawness of what had happened between the two of them. By the intensity of the pleasure that she had felt.
And she knew that she needed to figure out what exactly it was. What exactly it meant.
But that was something she needed to do alone, not with him.
Sex, for him, would mean something entirely different.
He hasn’t had sex in years. You have no idea what it means to him.
You think you know everyone’s secrets.
She gritted her teeth and shut that down.
“Obviously, being here is putting me through some things. Things I didn’t anticipate. I appreciate... It’s been very affirming...”
“Are you trying to thank me for the orgasms?”
“Yes.”
“Affirming is not exactly the word I would use.”
“Fine. Thank you for the amazing sex. Whatever else is going on in my life, that’s not an unwelcome addition to it.”
His lips quirked upward. “I feel the same.”
“I really don’t think we should keep doing it.”
He shrugged. “You thought that an hour ago too. Look what happened.”
“We should try not to?”
“Was that a question?”
“Maybe.”
“Go home,” he said. “Take a shower.”
Part of her wanted to invite him to come along with her. But the part of her that was on a fragile, emotional precipice that was on the verge of cracking and breaking off into the sea very much needed to go be by itself.
“Right. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yep.”
“See you tomorrow.” And tomorrow there will be no sex. She ignored the part of her that was deeply saddened by that internal statement.
She enjoyed having sex with him. She enjoyed it so much. But it wasn’t good. It wasn’t good for her. It couldn’t be. Not in the long run. She felt so fragile.
That could be healthy.
As if words like healthy or unhealthy could possibly be applied to it. It was just life, she supposed.
Sometimes she felt like she was a good eight years younger than she was. Because she had lost so much time in a haze. Where she hadn’t had real relationships of any kind, let alone healthy ones.
She’d never had sex sober.
And because of that this all felt very...new.
Yes. That was why. It wasn’t just because of him.
It couldn’t be.
She swallowed hard and got in her car, thankful that there was no one around.
And as soon as she was out on the open highway, she dissolved into tears.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE NEXT DAY it was time to get into the first of the ranch chores. They were having the boys help build a fence.
They were beginning with digging postholes. Three of the boys had three posthole diggers, and Jacob was supervising one section and one boy, while Gabe had the others.
They would be going in shifts throughout the day, the others seeing to their regular classes.
They would also be trading off checking in on those classes. So that meant he would probably only see Vanessa for a limited time today.
It was probably for the best. When he was around her his control seemed to go out the window completely.
Not that he had been known for his control when it came to women at any point in his life.
But the past few years, he’d been as celibate as a youth group leader with a promise ring.
Now? Well, now his body had been reminded of just how much he enjoyed sex.
Now he was preoccupied with it. Hell if he didn’t feel a little bit guilty. Because there had been a reason he’d been denying himself in the first place. Because it had been part and parcel to trying to change.
Another parallel between himself and Vanessa, he supposed.
Maybe that was why they kept coming together like magnets. And then, the minute they flipped over, they repelled each other.
No, that wasn’t true, not really. He enjoyed a fight with her in many ways. Because it gave him a chance to let loose and do something with all that anger inside him.
Maybe that was wrong. But if it was, he didn’t particularly want to be right. Not right now.
It was a
release. The sex and the fighting.
Maybe it was for her too.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”
He was snapped back to reality by Aiden’s surly question.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s a rock in the hole.”
“Dig it out with a shovel,” Jacob said.
“This is probably against child labor laws,” Aiden said.
He was arguing, but he was trying. And nothing spoke more to the changes he was making than that did. And Jacob... Well, he felt a sense of accomplishment.
He couldn’t bring Clint back. But he’d wanted to make his place in the world matter a little more.
This made him feel like it just might.
“The government already knows you’re here,” Jacob said.
“Yeah, but I bet they don’t know you’re using us to build a fence for you for free.”
“We could build this fence three times faster than you jokers. We don’t need you.”
“Then why are we here?” Aiden shouted.
“It’s for you.”
“Why? It’s supposed to make us...better people? What do you think good people are anyway?”
“It has a hell of a lot of nothing to do with what I think a good person is. Why are you here anyway?”
“I got arrested,” Aiden said. “None of the foster families can handle me anymore. I was basically headed for a group home. Though, all up, I think I’d choose prison first.”
“Yeah, that’s not about being a good person. It’s about not having your ass in jail.”
Aiden shook his head and looked away. “Whatever.”
“Not whatever. There’s a lot of mileage between being a good person and being a criminal.” He needed him to understand that.
He needed him to want better for himself, because dammit, Jacob wanted better for him.
“Does it matter?”
Jacob shrugged. “I’m not a criminal.”
“Are you a good person?”
The kid looked at him, a dark eyebrow raised, a challenge in his brown eyes.
“Not especially,” Jacob said.
“All the posthole digging in the world didn’t help you. Why do you think it might help me?”
“Look, kid,” he said. “I don’t know anything about anything. But I do know how to stay out of jail. So that puts me about a step ahead of you. And quite frankly, if I’m a step ahead of you, you should be concerned.”
“Why do you care?”
Jacob frowned. “Did I say that I care?”
Except, when he said that, he found that he did. Because for some reason he identified with this kid and all that smart-ass rage. Because he knew that never covered anything good.
Probably something that happened to him when he was too young to understand the consequences. When he was too young to have had any say in the matter.
A kid who was a victim of his early circumstances.
Not that Jacob felt like a victim.
“Why are you here, then?” Aiden asked.
“Okay, let’s say that I do care. Just for the sake of argument. The thing is, there’s no point running around trying to be the biggest badass. It doesn’t prove anything. And running around like you are... Treating people like they’re disposable comes back to bite you in the ass. Treating everything like it’s a joke... It doesn’t end well.”
“Yeah?”
“My best friend is dead because of me.”
Aiden’s eyebrows raised. “You said you weren’t a criminal.”
“Carelessness kills more people than outright violence, I’m convinced of that. Look, I didn’t kill him, but the fact of the matter is I didn’t take anything seriously either. Not when I was your age, and not for a long time after. I didn’t take much seriously until there were consequences that I couldn’t ignore. I would rather you didn’t wait until you were me. So honestly, that’s my investment. Just that I know where your attitude leads. And if you can help it, I’d say stay away from it.”
“Well, help me dig the rock out,” Aiden said.
“Nope,” Jacob said, handing him a shovel. “The rock is all you.”
“It’s huge.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Fuck This, you can’t dig a rock out of a hole? What kind of inner-city badass are you?”
“Who said I was from the inner city?” Aiden grabbed the shovel and treated him to a baleful look. “You’re stereotyping.”
Jacob rocked back on his heels. “Maybe I read your file.”
“Did you?”
Damn kid. “No.”
“Then you’re stereotyping.”
“Are you from the inner city?”
“Of course I fucking am.” Aiden scowled and went back to digging.
Jacob laughed and clapped the kid on the back.
“How are things going over here?”
He looked up and saw Gabe.
“Pretty good.”
“Terrible,” Aiden said, putting the shovel in the hole and trying feebly to get the rock out. He was a big kid. Strong looking too, but he clearly had never done any outdoor work in his life.
“Get the shovel underneath the rock,” Gabe said.
“Put your boot on top of it,” Jacob added.
“Not on top of the rock,” Gabe said. “On top of the shovel.”
After some more coaching, Aiden finally got the thing moving.
“You’re a hard-ass,” Gabe said.
“I thought that was what we were supposed to be doing. Instilling the value of a day’s work into young, impressionable minds.”
“Yeah, true. Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Are we going to have an interaction that doesn’t conclude with you pulling me away from the group anytime soon?”
“When we quit having conversations that are best kept private?”
He didn’t want to move away from Aiden, though, and it was hard to say why. Except that he needed the kid to understand. To understand that life and choices had weight.
And to be included. Not shuffled off to the side like something that didn’t matter. Which he had a feeling had been too much of the kid’s life already.
What would happen if someone treated him like he mattered? If someone pushed past the BS?
When he’d been a kid, no one had done that to him, and it hadn’t ended well.
“If this is about what I told you the other night about Clint...Aiden knows about it.”
Aiden looked up at them. “I do?”
“My dead friend,” Jacob tossed back at him.
“Right,” he said.
“You shouldn’t feel responsible,” Gabe said.
“Then you shouldn’t feel responsible for our half siblings.”
Aiden looked interested now.
“I knew about them,” Gabe said. “I knew about them, and I didn’t go looking for them when I should have.”
“And I didn’t go on the fire when I should have. I wasn’t responsible. I didn’t do the right thing, and because of that... So we can talk all you want about how it doesn’t matter. About how it would just be a trade-off of him or me. But it’s not going to make me feel any better than people telling you the half siblings aren’t your fault does.”
“There are half siblings?” Aiden asked.
“Our dad is a whole thing,” Gabe said.
“I have half siblings,” Aiden said. “I never get to see them, though.”
“Yeah, we never see ours either,” Gabe said.
“I’m not the one from the family, though.”
It took a second for Jacob to realize what he meant. Aiden was the one who wasn’t part of a family. He was the one shoved off to the side and kept out.
“Do you want to be part of the family?” Gabe asked.
“No. Anyway, I’m not allowed to because my stepdad thinks I’d be a bad influence on his precious kids.”
So it was a little bit different, then.
“Guilty without a trial?�
� Jacob asked.
“Basically. So why try?”
The words hit perilously close to home because Jacob knew that feeling well. Because after Gavin had died he asked himself that constantly. Why try at all? He hadn’t been able to save his friend. And so he had hidden what had happened, shoved it all down deep, never talked about it to anyone. Never let anyone know how badly it had hurt him.
That he could see his friend in his mind’s eye, falling over the edge of the trail. Over and over again in his dreams.
And so he would push it down deeper. And deeper and deeper, so he didn’t have to ever deal with it.
And he had always asked himself why it mattered.
Because Gavin was gone, and there was nothing to be gained by letting anyone know he had seen it. Because they would’ve wanted to talk to him and make sure that he was okay.
Because they would have been so worried about a little boy who had seen his friend fall to his death.
And Jacob hadn’t wanted to talk about it. No, not at all. And what was the point?
It was a reason he’d become an EMT. Because he’d seen someone die already, so why not? He’d already had the trauma. He could protect the people who were injured. Maybe protect someone who hadn’t seen that kind of thing before. Shoulder it in a small way.
He had been bad at that in his personal life. He hadn’t known how to do it.
But he’d been able to do it for strangers. The one way he’d been able to matter.
It hadn’t been enough. Because he hadn’t engaged in his life, and that was where he’d let Clint down.
“Because somewhere down the road your behavior will impact someone else,” Jacob said. “It will. I asked myself all the time why it mattered if I was an irresponsible dick. It didn’t, until he died. Until I brushed off the responsibility, and now I have to live with the fact that my friend got on a helicopter that he shouldn’t have been on because of me.”
“Well,” Aiden said, “I would just be glad that I wasn’t dead. But maybe it comes back to that good-person thing.”
“You’d feel guilty,” Jacob said. “Every day. Believe me.”
Aiden grunted and lifted the rock up out of the hole. “Done,” he said.
“Good,” Gabe said. “Next hole.”
Gabe held Jacob back as Aiden moved down a few feet.
“That was good advice.”