by Cindy Miles
Beneath the street lamp next to my truck, I saw him, straddling his motorcycle, waiting for me, and my pent up breath and worry eased right out of me. He looked up and was off his bike, jogging toward me in that easy lope that I never tired of watching, and my eyes drank in the sight of his long muscular legs closing the space between us. My heart sped up as he grew close, and at the last second, just before he reached me, he flipped his ball cap around, bill to the back, and gathered me in his arms. His body enveloped mine, and his scruffy jaw buried against my neck. I sank into him, my arms slipping around his waist and marveling at the muscles bunched there. When his lips settled over the skin of my throat the erotic gesture sent a shiver down my spine, and I melted a little more. How had I come to crave this with him? To so vehemently crave Brax? What was even more astonishing was that he seemed to crave me, as well. In less than a month? Could it even be real?
“I thought I was going to have to come in and drag your ass out,” he said against my skin. His mouth moved to my jaw, then my chin, then grazed my mouth. Then, he pulled back and looked at me with those light, ethereal eyes. “Let’s get outta here.”
Sliding the pack off my shoulders, Brax led me to my truck. “We’ll take my bike,” he said, and waited for me to open the door.
“Where are we going?” He hadn’t mentioned the incident from this morning. Hadn’t mentioned Kelsy. And I hadn’t heard of any fights or trouble after Brax took off this morning, determined to get to the bottom of the vandalism on my truck. What had happened once he’d left me?
He tossed my pack onto the bench seat, then closed and locked the door. He grasped my hand and threaded our fingers together. His were long, warm, slightly calloused, and dwarfed mine, and I decided I more than liked the feelings he caused within me whenever he touched me. However slight the gesture, it stirred a physical response deep inside that I now longed for; hungered for. I knew he struggled at times; I could see desire in his eyes, feel it in the depth of his kiss, the desperation in his touch. I marveled at his control. I marveled at my own. As he pulled me toward his bike, the expression he threw over his shoulder at me nearly stopped me in my tracks. Mischievous. Sexy. Promising. “You’ll see.”
We rode through campus, my arms wrapped around his stomach and holding tightly. The warmth from his skin seeped through the tee shirt he wore and sank into me, and I loved that feeling, too. It reminded me of safety, protection, desire, all tightly bound within the tattoos and muscles of the most unlikely of scarred heroes. Dare I call him mine?
Brax changed gears and slowed the bike as we pulled into a darkened sports complex, winding through to the baseball diamond’s parking lot. At this time of night all the lights were off, and Brax came to a stop close to the dugout entrance. He braced the bike as I climbed off, then with his heel he kicked the stand and swung his leg over. Immediately, he turned to me and unclasped the straps to my helmet.
“It’s so dark,” I said quietly. “What are we doing here?”
He set both our helmets on the seat of the bike then grasped my hand and looked down at me. The full moon had already come and gone, so the celestial illumination was next to nothing. Brax’s face was swallowed in shadow. His voice washed over me; raspy and familiar. But when he smiled, his teeth slashed across his face. “You’re about to break the law, Sunshine. Now come on.”
“We’re breaking into the ball field?” I whispered, and pulled back on his hand. “Brax, we’ll get into trouble.”
His body brushed mine. “Only if we get caught.” Humor laced his voice, and he pulled me gently. “Come on, Gracie. Let loose a little.” We got to the dugout gate, which was chained and about seven feet high. Brax pulled me close, lowered his head and brushed my lips. “Trust me, sweetheart. Can you climb a fence?”
“Oh lord,” I whispered, looking around nervously. “Of course I can.”
His hands moved to my hips. “Well, get your skinny little ass over the gate then, will ya?”
“Brax, I swear,” I murmured. Then I heaved a gusty sigh, stuck my fingers through the links and shimmed up and over the chained gate. Brax followed behind me with grace and very little effort, and dropped to the ground. His hand found mine and pulled.
“Your reluctance is too fucking cute, Gracie. Besides, adrenaline is good for the heart,” he whispered. “Now quit your bitching and follow me.”
“I’m not bitching,” I insisted in a hushed voice. “I’m voicing my concern over your delinquent decision, is all.”
Suddenly and in the darkened dugout Brax jerked to a halt and scooped me up in his arms. I stifled a squeal, and he chuckled. “Keep it down, keep it down,” he warned. He bent and grabbed something as we passed the benches, and then rounded a corner and started walking.
“I can walk, you know,” I insisted. It only made him chuckle again.
“Yeah, but I like you right where I got you.” He pulled me close against him, and I tucked my head in the crook of his neck. He walked for a few seconds more, then stopped. His warm breath brushed my temple. “All right, keep your eyes closed. No looking.” He set me down.
Not that I could see a solitary thing anyway, but I still let my lids fall. “Yes, sir.”
Brax busied himself close to where I stood, laughing softly to himself. I wanted to peek, but I refrained, just on the off-hand he’d catch me. Then, he was there, his body crowding mine in a way I felt positive only Brax could do. Even blinded, I felt him swoop in, melding us together as he enveloped me, one arm around my waist pulling me snugly against him, the other cupping the back of my head as he steered his mouth over mine. My hands found their way to his hair and entwined my fingers through the soft flips and curls I found so appealing. His lips, so expert and full and firm and pliable moved over my jaw, my lips, and his tongue tasted me in such an erotic way that I couldn’t help the groan that he coaxed from deep within me. He pulled back and whispered in my ear.
“Christ, girl, you’re killing me.” He kissed my nose, then my body went airborne once more as he lifted me, his arms catching me behind my knees. “Keep those beautiful eyes closed, you hear me?”
“I will,” I whispered. Then, my body began to drift downward as Brax lowered me to my back on the ground. My fingers flexed and I encountered a blanket beneath me.
“Be still,” he ordered. I did, and he straightened my legs, my arms at my side. I felt him lay beside me then—not directly side-by-side, but just his head. With my eyes closed it seemed a strange feeling, his roughened jaw against my temple. But I waited in silence. I didn’t have to wait long.
“Open your eyes.”
I blinked several times as I focused straight up above me into the vast, pitch-black blanket of Texas sky littered with a million blinking stars. The night sky was cloudless and perfect, and my face broke into an unstoppable smile. “Brax,” I muttered. Even I could hear the awe in my voice.
“Impressive, yeah? Even though you’ve seen it a hundred times?” he asked.
I turned my head to look at him, and found he was looking at me, too. The darkness shaded his features but I could still make them out; slightly crooked nose, arched brows against fair skin, with the longish curls he usually kept pushed back falling over his forehead. Although I couldn’t see it, I knew his sharp gaze searched my face, too. He was beautiful, strong, and stunning. I smiled. “It’s always perfect.”
“I don’t fucking deserve this. With you.” He had one arm behind his head, and he rolled onto his side so that he now braced himself with his elbow. I did the same. His words took me off guard, shook me. I wasn’t expecting to hear that from him. We were face to face, inches apart, our bodies pointing in opposite directions, yet we remained intimately close. To me it still wasn’t close enough. With his free hand he grazed my jaw with his knuckles. I thought he’d kiss me then, or more. But he didn’t. He simply stared, explored my face, throat, shoulder, with deft, long fingers that left my insides humming. When he spoke, his raspy voice was quiet, controlled, serious.
“I want to know what happened with Evans, Gracie,” he said. “I want you to trust me.”
I could barely breathe. I wanted to trust Brax so badly it hurt. Should I? How wise would it be to trust someone with such a dark piece of my past? Even more was, how wise would it be to keep that dark seed locked away inside of me? It would only grow like a tumor until it spread from that secret hiding place, malignant and brain-infesting and all-consuming until all that remained was an embittered, fragile, ugly shell of a woman. I missed my old carefree self. I missed her so much. Brax was slowly bringing that part of me back and I knew it.
Brax’s fingers brushed my cheek, then grasped my jaw, lifting my gaze that had drifted away to meet his. I inhaled, drawing in his clean scent. “I’ve been in that dark place, Gracie. I know what it’s like to keep secrets.” He laughed softly, void of humor, filled with sarcasm. “Trust me, I’ve got my share of them.” He caressed my lips, my scar with his thumb. “But I don’t want you to shoulder yours alone anymore. I can see whatever it is in your eyes, hiding, every time I look at you. And I fucking hate it.”
So very close, I let my stare settle into his, and in my next breath it consumed me with trust, hope for a peace I hadn’t experienced in, well, over a year. Everything that drew me to Brax Jenkins merged and connected at once, and I knew then that it was meant for us to meet. Meant for us to belong. I drew in a long, cleansing breath, and let it exhale slowly. “Promise me something then, Brax.”
“Anything.” This he said without the first trace of hesitation.
Timidly, I lifted my hand and let my fingertips brush over first the scar at his cheekbone, where it lingered despite the slight flinch I’d felt. He didn’t stop me, though, and I fingered the roughened skin there, noticed the difference between it and his otherwise smooth texture. Then, I traced his perfectly shaped lips, and another scar so similar to my own. Like he’d done to me, I grasped his jaw, the stubble like sandpaper against the pads of my fingers. I liked that.
“You have to promise me that, no matter what I tell you, you won’t act on it. At all.” I pulled his face closer to mine, and as I stared at my hand holding his face, shadows merged our bodies into one. “I swear it’s the only way I’ll do this, Brax.”
His hand reached for mine, and he brought it to his mouth, pressed his lips over my knuckles, then my fingertips, one at a time. “I don’t think I like the sound of this.” He kissed my fingers again. “But for you, I promise.” He held our hands up between us, pressed palm to fingers, and then laced them together. And waited.
This was it. To not go forward with this, with trusting Brax? It meant I was a grade-A coward in the worst way possible. According to Jilly there was no such goddamn thing in existence as a cowardly Beaumont. I breathed. Then began.
“By the summer before my senior year, Kelsy and I had been dating for almost a year. We’d known each other since the fourth grade, when his family moved to Jasper.” My eyes watched Brax’s as he studied me, fierce and with every ounce of concentration evident in the shadowy blue depths. I smiled, and it was a mixture of good memories and deception that belied the humor tugging at my mouth. “Kelsy’s from a very affluent Texas family from Dallas. His father is a successful attorney with statewide connections and a shocking amount of power, political and otherwise. And Kelsy, boy,” I shook my head. “Kelsy had charm. Charisma. Respectful to adults, and all the guys looked up to him. All the girls swooned at his feet, including me. He,” I tried to decide how to describe it, and couldn’t. “He just had that thing that made every girl at Jasper High wish to God she was me.” I let out another whispery laugh. “His parents weren’t too happy about their son dating a poor ranch girl, but they left him alone about it. Kelsy sure had me fooled, though. Had everyone fooled, actually, only they just didn’t know it. Still don’t. Everyone except my grandpa Jilly. Nothing gets by him. Ever. Anyway.”
Brax’s body had grown tense; I could tell by the slight pressure he’d started exerting in squeezing my hand. He wanted to speak, and I believed it was extremely difficult for him not to, but he didn’t say a single word. Just listened. It was a lethal silence though; deadly and dangerous. Even his breathing had stilled. In anticipation of what I’d say, maybe? Inside, I shook like crazy. This was it. I hadn’t told a soul about that horrible nightmare of a night that I barely remembered. But I was going to tell Brax. Trust him.
I continued, carefully choosing my words. “Like I said, it was the summer before senior year. It was Saturday, a typical August Texas night, blistering and sticky, and our graduating class had gathered at Marshal’s Pond for a huge party. It’d been kept a secret, of course, since there was a lot of under aged drinking going on.” Dread began nagging at me as I remembered details, and I stared at Brax’s chest now, focusing on the rise and fall as he breathed, and it urged me to push past the pain and continue. I swallowed. “I’d lied and told my mom I was sleeping over at Carrie Yeoman’s house, and she’d believed me without question. I’d never lied to her before, but Kelsy said we couldn’t miss our own class party. And I knew I’d never be given permission to go. So I did it.” I may have been pretty toasted, but I recalled his angry face, jaws clenched, cheeks reddened. He was so mad at me. I drew a deep breath. “We’d been at the pond since four in the afternoon, swimming, drinking beer, having a swell time. We had a bonfire once it got dark, and the fun continued. Just a bunch of teenagers goofing off, making memories.” I stared down at the blanket now, a small space between Brax’s shoulders and mine, and forced my self to breathe as the memories flooded back. When I lifted my gaze, Brax’s stare held me steady, so profoundly, even under the cover of darkness. I could see clearly enough to notice the depth at which he listened. And it gave me a strength that surprised me. “I remember only a few things after the darkness came. One, was Kelsy’s insistence that I have one more drink. I’d had enough and could tell it, but he was so damned adamant.” I shook my head. “He started to get angry, telling me I was going to ruin our fun, that we’d only have shitty memories of our class party. I caved. He left, brought me a drink. Everyone had their trucks backed up to the bonfire in a huge circle, and we sat on the tailgate of the Beast, the very same truck he drives now. I remember … drinking the whole thing. You know, typical red plastic cup.” I shook my head again. “The next thing I remember was my lip being sewn up in the emergency room—”
“Jesus fuck! He hit you, Gracie?” Brax pushed off the ground, clasped both hands behind his neck and paced the pitcher’s mound. “Jesus fucking Christ!” He returned and stopped beside me. “I’m going to fucking kill him,” he growled. Crouching beside me, he ducked his head, and he grasped my face with both his hands. They were shaking. “Tell me the rest, Gracie.” He dropped his hands and waited.
Fury fell off him in pulsing sheets as more curses followed, and I pushed up to sit cross-legged. His reaction made me rethink my decision to tell him everything. I didn’t want Brax to go nuts on Kelsy. He’d get into trouble. Maybe even lose his scholarship. Kelsy Evans wasn’t worth it. Not at all. I swallowed hard, pushing that part of my nightmare into a darkened corner in my mind. “He didn’t hit me, Brax. I tripped.” He hadn’t hit me, at least that’s what he’d sworn to my brothers. But I had no memory of anything after that red cup, except the emergency room. A burning between my legs. And having my lip sewn up. Brax laced his hands behind his neck and paced. Swore. After seeing his reaction now? It’d been a good call not to tell him the one part that I felt sure would ignite his fury like a stick of dynamite.
I blinked away tears. “He confessed only to my brothers that he’d spiked my drink. But after the beating they gave him,” I said, shaking my head. “Kelsy’s father went ballistic. Kelsy, of course, denied spiking my drink with anything. Then there were the pictures others had taken of us—of me—at the party.” I gave a short laugh. “It was quite apparent I was having a good time, hanging all over Kelsy and acting like …” I shrugged. “Like so many other girls do at parties. Like a
complete fool. Everyone saw it and there was no denying it.” I breathed again. “Kelsy claimed my brothers caught wind of the party and came for me, found me drunker than a skunk and then jumped him for letting me get that wasted. Kelsy’s father not only threatened to drag the Beaumont name through the dirt with a public trial, but that my brothers would surely go to jail for assault and battery. I believed every word of it, too. Like I said—Kelsy’s father is extremely powerful.” I gave a hollow laugh. “My brothers—they are so damn hardheaded. They were willing to risk everything—even their whole future—to defend me. I begged them. Begged. Pleaded with my mom, Jilly, not to do it.” I looked at Brax. “Not to go fight Mr. Evans in court. To just … let everything be forgotten about, and settle everything quietly, just between us and Kelsy’s father. I’d do anything to keep my family’s name out of the dirt. And they reluctantly agreed.” I pushed my hands into my lap. “My senior year left little to be desired, and I’m relieved it’s over. Everyone loved Kelsy and it was easy for them to turn against me for causing so much trouble.” I shrugged again. “I was shunned. You know, poor ranch girl versus the ever-so-popular lawyer’s kid. But I’d worked my ass off to get where I was academically. Senior year I submerged into my studies, ignored the taunts and accepted the solitude, worked twice as hard, and I received this scholarship and employment. My brothers were safe and not facing jail time, and that was the most important thing to me.” I let out a long sigh, amazed by Brax’s silence. “Nothing else mattered. Which is why you have to keep your promise.”
Brax sat now, knees bent up with his forearms resting on them, his head hanging down and staring between his feet. He sat that way, wordless, for several moments. Then, his head rose. His fingers found mine, and he stroked my ring. “What made you decide to wear this?”