When the front door shut, Mom turned, offering a kind smile. “He thinks he knows everything. Last I checked, his degree was in law.”
I chuckled, though it was empty.
“Would you like something to drink? Are you hungry?” she asked, already trying to smooth things over using food. It was her go-to fix for everything. She seemed to believe if she could just get enough food into us, we’d be too tired to argue anymore.
I patted my stomach as the wind chimes sang. “You know me. I can always eat.”
She smiled. “Come inside, honey. I’ll make you a sandwich.”
I followed her in. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust after being in the bright morning sun. The house still smelled of fresh-cut flowers. I passed by Dad’s study and cut through the living room, tailing her into the kitchen. Bluegrass music trickled through the air.
Dad was at the fridge, pulling out the ingredients for a sandwich.
The moment Mom noticed this, she rushed over. “I can get that, dear. I was just about to make Dean a sandwich.”
She never let any of us make our own food, even when we offered.
Dad looked in my direction, but he never made eye contact. “I can’t wait around all day for Dean to decide he’s hungry. I have a yard to finish and a case to prep for.”
There was a stiffness that pulled her upright, hardly noticeable if one didn’t know to look for it. But I knew. I watched how she fought an internal battle to keep everything light and friendly when Dad and I were in the same room.
Seconds later, she gave the minutest shake of her head and offered me a warm smile. “How’s the internship, honey?”
Dad stepped out of her way and leaned against the counter, arms and feet crossed as he watched her every move.
I took a seat at the bar and cleared my throat. “So far so good. My salary is decent. In the next year or so, I’ll be given some of the better commissions. Might even be able to choose which style I’d like to edit.”
I caught the tail end of Dad rolling his eyes.
Swallowing, I continued, the same tightness building in my chest that always did when I was in his presence. “I was able to work on a big project recently. You might have heard of it.” I stared in his direction, willing him to look my way. “The Fallen Lawyer. It hit all the bestseller lists. It was about a big-time lawyer who—”
He pushed off the counter and grabbed a bottle of water from the inside door of the fridge. “We don’t have time to read silly novels around here, boy,” he said, cutting me off.
Mom froze in the middle of setting the layers of meat onto the bread.
“I do real work,” he continued, twisting the cap off. “The kind you have to sink your teeth into.”
I gritted my teeth as a black, pitted bitterness roared awake inside my heart. “And the books you studied in order to learn how to do that real work… the books you and your colleagues continue to use… you think they just arrived on the market in pristine condition?” I taunted, squaring my shoulders. “Someone sank their teeth into those pages, Dad. Night after night. Day after day. They ate, slept, and bled those words until they were suitable for your eyes.”
His glare could be felt across the room. He hated when I talked back. Even more when I was right.
“Anyone can learn how to edit, boy, but having the savvy to run a courtroom full of opinions that could sway in any direction… that takes real grit.”
“Sam,” Mom hissed, the butter knife in her hand clanging against the counter.
My jaw tightened, heart banging against my ribs. “My mistake,” I said, keeping my words short.
It was no use. He wasn’t worth the argument.
He looked at me, and all I saw was hatred. The reminder that I put the blemish on his name. That I cost him one of his biggest clients.
In all the years that have passed since that night, he still hasn’t asked me why I did what I did. Still didn’t care to understand my reason, even when Mr. Hale took my case and vouched for me. I imagined he knew the truth. He was Andy’s father’s partner. They had to have talked about it at some point.
I didn’t know what bothered me more… the fact he’d turned his back on me, or the fact he still treated me as the monster they painted me as, even though he knew the truth.
“Where are Paul and Wesley?” I asked, changing subjects. Wishing I was anywhere but there.
Dad didn’t waste any time answering. My older brothers were his pride and joy. “Paul is working on a huge case, and Wesley is at the hospital. He had a surgery at two.”
He didn’t have to say anything else. The implications were there. They were working while I was vacationing. They had real jobs while I puttered inside pages like some sort of homeless vagabond.
It was all he’d ever perceived me to be.
Mom cleared her throat. “Here we are… two hearty sandwiches, made just the way you like,” she said, handing each of us a plate. “I’ll grab you both a drink.”
I dug right in, ready to be done so I could excuse myself and leave. A moment later, she set a glass of scotch in front of me.
“You going to stay at the Hale’s with Josh?” she asked as she leaned on the bar, watching me eat. She always knew how to steer the conversation when it came to Dad and me.
I nodded, chewing through a bite.
The light in her eyes dimmed a little. She’d love if I stayed here, but I wouldn’t survive the next two weeks being stuck under the same roof as Dad. She and I both knew that.
“I heard Andy will be there,” she said, eyes finding mine just long enough to make me squirm. She knew a little about the feelings I had for Andy. I wasn’t sure how… maybe some weird mother’s intuition, but I could always see it in her eyes when we talked about Andy. She was rooting for me, even if the rest of the world wasn’t.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant even though my heart jolted. Andy’s name always had a power over me. I swallowed, and then took another bite. “This is good, Ma,” I said through a mouthful. “My sandwiches usually consist of stale bread and near-expired meat.”
“That’s ‘cause you can’t find yourself a good woman to take care of you,” Dad pointed out as he set his dish in the sink and carried the remainder of his sandwich out of the kitchen. “I’m going back outside. It was ah… good to see you.”
The tension in the air lifted a little after he left, though the knot that had formed in my stomach didn’t let up.
“He just worries about you,” Mom said as soon as we were alone.
I kept my comments to myself.
“I… uh… I heard things didn’t go well for Andy’s case against Charlie’s father.”
Acid stirred in my stomach. I knew just enough about that douche bag Matt to know he was nothing but trouble. “Her case?”
Mom leaned on her elbows. “Yeah. Charlie’s father took her to court for custody. John tried to convince her to let your father and him take over the case, but you know how stubborn she can be.” She took my plate when I reached my last bite. “She’s just like you in that sense… always needing to prove to the world that y’all are capable.” She sat the plate in the sink and turned, a warm smile on her face. “She’s a strong one, that girl.”
I reached for the glass of scotch she’d poured and tipped it back, welcoming the fiery burn before setting it down. “I didn’t know Charlie’s father was interested in custody.”
She gave a small shrug. “I doubt he is. Seems the type who just likes to control and manipulate if you ask me.”
Fists formed at my sides. All I could think about was the things she’d told me about him throughout the years. The last I’d heard, five years ago, Andy was on the fence about taking him to court for child support. I tried to tell her she should, even though she shouldn’t even have had to. If the man loved Charlie enough, he should’ve wanted to take care of him, no questions asked.
But from the little she opened up about, Matt didn’t seem like the caring ty
pe, which was a shame because Charlie was nothing but exceptional.
“Dean?” Mom was looking at me funny.
“Yeah?” I said, trying to shake off the anger.
“If you love her that much, you should tell her.”
Words clammed up in my throat. Even though I had an inkling that she knew, she had still never expressed what she thought.
She smiled at me, and then patted my hand. “I know you’re probably itching to get over there. I’m sure I’ll see you at the annual celebration before you leave.”
I nodded, my skin hot.
“Okay, good.” She stood straight, inhaling, and then turned. “I should get back to pruning then. We’re losing daylight. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Tell her that you love her… I thought as I headed to my truck. If only it were that easy. Andy was as delicate as she was fierce. As stubborn as she was submissive. When she put her mind to something, that was it. Changing her view of me from the boy she grew up with into a man she could fall in love with would take more effort than simply admitting my feelings for her.
I just had to figure out the best way to do it.
After cranking the engine and putting the truck in drive, I stuck my hand out the window in farewell. Mom waved me off as I pulled out of the driveway, but I didn’t even bother to look in my father’s direction.
I knew he hadn’t glanced my way, so it would have just been a waste of my time.
“DUDE, I TOLD YOU TO get here at one. Dad already took Charlie to catch dinner,” Josh said as he dropped my suitcase on the bed I’d be claiming for the next two weeks. It was directly above Andy’s room. I knew, because Josh made a point to show me where Andy was staying and lay down the law that his sister was off-limits.
But limits were never my thing.
“Sorry. You know how sentimental my mom is. She made me a sandwich and all that.”
“And your dad?”
I shrugged and put my suitcase next to the dresser. “What do you want to do since we missed the fishing trip?” I asked, already feeling bits of my old self returning. This house was my second home.
He wore a wicked grin. “I don’t know. Break into the ‘rents liquor cabinet?”
My mom’s earlier words concerning Andy replayed in my ears as I thought about her being somewhere close by. “A drink sounds perfect right about now.”
I followed him down the stairs, my nerves on edge as I kept my eyes out for her. She was everywhere. Pictures lining the walls marked her childhood. Memories hid in every room.
“What do you want?” Josh asked from the next room as I forced myself forward. “Whiskey? Tequila? Scotch?”
“Scotch.” I didn’t want to mix.
His face puckered. “Armpit juice it is,” he said, pouring a glass for me. He shoved it at me as if it would infect him or something. “I don’t know how you drink that shit.”
He poured himself a gin. I pointed my glass at his. “And I don’t know how you drink that shit.”
“Touché.” He lifted his glass, and then pressed it to his lips.
Mrs. Hale strolled into the room, her floral scent filling the air. “You boys shouldn’t day drink.”
“Hello, Mrs. Hale.” I set my drink on the table. “You look as lovely as ever.”
“Hello, Dean.” She stuck her cheek out for an air kiss. That always threw me off. Mom loved hugs. Loved smiles. Mrs. Hale was the complete opposite.
“Where’s Andy?” Josh asked as he hovered near the liquor cabinet.
A flicker of annoyance passed over her kept features. “Sleeping. Now if you two will excuse me, I have a daughter to rouse.”
She passed by us as Josh snickered. He always loved to witness Andy getting in trouble.
“You knew she was resting, didn’t you?” I asked, reaching for my glass.
“Obviously. It’s just like Andy to come home and head straight for her bed.”
“She had a long drive.”
“And?” He lifted his shoulders and just as easily dropped them. “Come on. Let’s go sit on the porch. That accusing look of yours is giving me indigestion.”
I followed him, hearing the faint sounds of Andy’s voice mixing with Mrs. Hale’s coming from her room. Growing up alongside her, I knew she enjoyed the company of her mother just about as much as I did of my father. It was part of what drew us to each other.
But in her case, I knew there was hope. Although Mrs. Hale could be difficult, I could tell she truly loved Andy. Andy just couldn’t see past the standards Mrs. Hale set for her.
“Ahh,” Josh said as he pushed the screen door open and stepped onto the porch. The air was warm and thick with the scent of freshly cut grass. “Do you smell that?”
“Smell what?” I asked as I took the rocking chair next to him.
He lifted his nose and inhaled. “It smells like two weeks’ worth of messing with Andy and having home-cooked meals set out for me.” He looked over the rim of his sunglasses. “The high life, my friend. We are living the high life.”
I chuckled. “Sounds to me like you need to get a life.”
We sat for a while, listening to the sounds of the birds while exchanging stories and catching up. I nearly spilled my drink down the front of me when Andy came barreling out the door, racing into the backyard.
I knew where she was heading—the tree.
I sat forward, setting my drink on the table as I watched her long, flowing hair bounce under the light of the sun like spun gold.
Josh smacked his lips together, jolting me back to reality. “Let the games begin,” he said, sounding way too happy. “Look at her go. Just like old times. Drama.”
“She seems upset.” I tried to keep my backside planted even though every part of me wanted to run after her to make sure she was okay. It was what I always did.
But that was before…
“When is she not upset?” Josh spouted. He was slack in his rocking chair, the liquor settling his shoulders. “Matt the dick fuck is probably bothering her again. I told Dad we should invite him here. We have like seventeen acres of woods. No one would miss him.”
I chuckled at the thought. I wouldn’t mind helping. “Maybe she needs a friend,” I mentioned as her form shrunk in the distance, swallowed by sunlight.
“A friend like you, perhaps?” He lifted his eyebrow at me.
I forced myself back into the rocking chair.
“You do realize she’s six years older than you. And she has a kid.”
I already knew where his warning was headed.
“Not only that,” he continued, finger in the air, “but she’s my sister. It’s like a rule of thumb—you don’t date your best friend’s sister.”
I swallowed. “I wasn’t talking about me,” I lied. “You’re her brother.”
He snorted. “The last person’s shoulder she wants to cry on is mine.”
I kept my eyes on the direction of the tree. Imagined her climbing it. Imagined a blanket wrapped around us as the stars pulsed overhead. Her lips… her smell… I was going to make her smile again if it was the last thing I did. I’d do everything in my power to make her happy; all I had to do was get through her armor.
Her soul was meant for me. I felt it all the way to my bones.
She just needed to see it.
“That girl is going to be the death of me,” Mrs. Hale said from the doorway, staring out into the hazy sunset.
I couldn’t agree more.
7
T E N S I O N
See me through hooded eyes.
Bend me to your will.
THERE I WAS, SITTING ACROSS from a room full of people wishing I had the flu or some form of virus that would give me a plausible excuse for not being there. I knew better. Knew I’d run into him eventually. I just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. And I hadn’t expected to come unglued by his presence. I’d prepared for this… for our first real encounter. Prepped myself to pretend like we never kissed. Convinced myself
it would be easy to do so.
Looking at the stubble along his jaw, his gaze hiding experience and heartache, and the full head of dark hair he’d grown out, I realized I was so utterly and completely wrong.
Those eyes—the color of the leaves on a sugar maple just before they were about to turn for fall—green with floating specks of gold.
It was like flashes of lightning… the intensity in which the memories crashed over me.
The way his lips felt—demanding and inviting. The way his hands slid deliciously slow under my shirt, his touch warm and rough. The way his tongue moved with mine, swirling and tasting, taking everything I’d almost given to him. His eyes had been fire. His mouth, the gate to heaven.
Taste my sin,
Set fire to my soul.
“Andrea, did you hear me, dear?” Mother said from the end of the table. From right next to Dean. His eyes were galvanizing. Somehow, they kept finding their way to my direction. Every single time, I felt like I was caught under a heat lamp.
I wished he’d stop. It was like his eyes were yelling, announcing to the room that he’d tasted me and he wanted more. I already felt my face flushing to shades I’d never reached when he finally let go of my gaze and directed his attention back to my mother… who was staring at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Andrea,” Mother barked again.
“Hmm?” I rushed out, wishing I could excuse myself.
Mother laughed, and then looked to Dean, shaking her head as if she were dealing with a child. “I said…” she drawled in her best southern accent, “our boys seem to have grown into handsome men overnight. Wouldn’t you agree?”
She batted her long, thick lashes at me.
Handsome men, I thought as a storm of words washed over me.
Kiss the forgotten parts of me.
Clear the cobwebs of time.
Charlie tugged on my arm as my tongue twisted in knots. Maybe it was a coping mechanism—a way to keep from saying something I knew I’d regret. Everyone stared at me… waiting for me to say something.
The Taste of Her Words Page 7