by Jamie Magee
“It’s not twisted. You’re always going to find a safe pocket. You have to believe so, and know you’re not alone in any fire.” A thought crossed her mind. She reached for his shoulder, moved her hand across his skin. “These are flames, the tattoo; they’re not wings.”
“Wings?” he said with a soft laugh. “I’m no angel. Each flame is a place I’ve been, a pocket I found. I put them there to remind me of the path I took, how they made me who I am.”
“When did you get the last one?”
“After Grace was born. The ones before that one were my first fire, when I graduated from school. I don’t mark the bad, just the path that leads to the good. What purified me…the glory behind the flames.”
The smile in her eyes faded a bit.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s something,” he asked, focusing intently on her.
“I don’t know shit about pockets, Easton—all I know is sometimes for me to snap out of something I have to get burned by the flame.”
“What are you trying to snap out of?” Easton asked as his heart thundered.
For hours he’d been sitting before this fire telling himself he had done nothing but pull Georgia into his hell, gave her more reasons to be anxious and flighty.
He tried to imagine what Lucas would have told him to do if he knew what Easton knew, what his dad would have…he didn’t know. But right as he looked down at her, he feared she was going to leave him—and he felt the primal desire to fight to always keep her as his—the advice he requested was given.
“Don’t get mad. Promise.”
He didn’t say a word, his entire body tensed.
She sat up, “I fucked up really bad. I’m scared you’re not going to understand why.”
She watched every expression, every breath, every muscle and when he tensed more she told him about Hunter, only altering her path to explain who was who, why she believed him.
Easton was quiet for a long moment after her words fell silent. His gaze moved back to the fire. She was sure he was going to tell her he couldn’t deal with this now, take on the drama of her life or wait for her to figure out who she was, but silence trudged onward.
Finally, he breathed out. “You helped him because at one time, before he fell apart you saw some good in him…you blamed yourself for not seeing him crumble in time to stop it and not being able to undo the damage.”
At first Georgia assumed she was the luckiest girl in the world to have a boyfriend who understood her so clearly, but then the wheels started turning…then she realized only someone who had walked her path would get this insanity.
“That’s why you helped Trish. When she showed up looking for a way to balance you took her in—didn’t you, and when she started to get better…you made Grace.”
His jade eyes slowly moved over her. “Only half right.”
“Which half?”
He moved his gaze back to the flames but pulled her into his lap, cocooned her in his arms.
“Trish use to work at a pool hall not far from the campus. She was just a scared kid paying to put herself through school. At first I just thought she was coming out of her shell, becoming bold. She’d show up where Wyatt and I were, states away, hang out saying she needed a break—figured out later she wasn’t on a break; she’d dropped out.
“When we were around I tried to help her out, tried to get her right, but every time I saw her again, she’d gotten into some other trouble. When she couldn’t find a job she started cons to feed herself, which spiraled out of control.
“Every time I helped her, she got me in trouble, and I told her it was the last time. When she showed up at the Doran’s I almost turned her away, but I thought maybe if she were there, not near any influence but us, we could get her right. And for I bit I thought it was working.”
His arms tightened around her. “One time.”
She looked up at him.
“I stopped hooking up with Trish after the first time she started doing crazy shit. When she was going through rehab here…one night I woke up with her in my bed. The next day I told her it was a mistake—friends and only friends.
“She went ballistic—called you every name in the book, ‘bout destroyed the apartment itself.”
“Me?”
Easton glanced down at her, realizing how confusing he surely sounded then. He reached to his side to where his jeans were sprawled across the floor and pulled his wallet out, the photo of her and her family he had always carried.
“She saw this the first night we met, when I paid, asked if it was my girl. I just smiled.”
Georgia’s hand trembled as she took the clear plastic bag from him, then pulled the picture out.
“I never would tell her who you were, what was or wasn’t between us.” He grinned at the irony. “To her, you were always the other woman.”
Georgia thought to question how someone could hate a person they never met, but she found herself smiling as she unfolded the photo and saw her father’s face, remembered the day the picture was taken.
“How are you not terrified she could come back at any moment, cause trouble?”
Easton thought about the fire he was just in, the lingering assumptions around the arson, then brushed his lips across her brow. “Trust me. I’ve kept a detailed record of every fucked thing she’s done—she’ll have the fight of a lifetime if she comes back ‘round.” He wanted to tell her he knew Trish had now gone too far, that there was a serious accusation against her, but he couldn’t say a word about it, not yet. Not if he had any hope of the officials actually catching her.
He leaned his shoulder back so he could see her face. “She doesn’t even know her name. She showed up months after she signed everything away, asking for money, and telling me she was sorry I had to bury our daughter without her.”
Georgia’s eyes grew wide with shock.
“She knows Grace lived, nothing more. I gave her money then for rehab. She never went.” His fingertips brushed across her brow. “That’s why I get it Georgia, but I promise you this; only Hunter can help himself.” He tightened his arms around her. “The son of a bitch is going to have hell to pay if I ever get my hands on him.”
There was a cold, somber truth in his last words, ones which made Georgia feel safe and terrified all at once.
To break the tension she reached her arms around him. “How ‘bout we just live in this moment and forget this heavy stuff?”
Before he could answer her lips were on his, her legs moving to either side, not allowing him to deny her.
Chapter Seventeen
Almost four months had passed. Life was slipping into a routine, a routine which was in one town where Georgia woke every morning in the same bed, yet every day was somehow different, a new adventure. It felt like a dream, one Georgia was fiercely protective of.
She and Easton had fallen into a rhythm. On his days off, after Grace was asleep, he would take her out to a different restaurant, for a walk around Willowhaven, or even fishing.
Most of his off nights, he would stay until dawn then slip out with a whisper of a kiss on her forehead. At times, at least once a week, the schedules wouldn’t line up with the way his mom worked, so she was the one that knocked on his door once Grace was down and slipped out before she woke.
They had never laid out the rules or the plan which stated they needed to be secret lovers. It just seemed to happen that way, both assuming it made the other one comfortable. Georgia still spent time with Grace, though. Cynthia made sure she pulled the babysitting card at least twice a week. In some way, Georgia had built a bond with Cynthia, Grace, and Easton, but they were individual, one on one, never the three of them in the same room.
Every day, Georgia would venture out and find something for her home. It could be as small as a candle or a new chair. She and Easton had more than enough fun christening every room as it was pulled together in Georgia’s style; simple, eccentric, with a touch of classic.
/> Her projects, both the ones online and the photo shoots, kept her working near constantly, building her nest, her blanket back to where she wanted it to be.
This morning, she awoke to hear banging and the rumble of male laughter. Today is the day, she thought as anxiety crept through her veins. She was supposed to have an open house barbeque to thank everyone for helping her with the house.
Parties were not something Georgia ever looked forward to, and if she did go to one she’d hide in the shadows. Hosting one would not let her get away that easily.
Everyone knew Easton and Georgia were together, but they had not made a public appearance as a couple yet. Their time alone was precious to them, so they didn’t care to share it by stopping by the pub or showing up at Memphis’s famous sport veg out parties.
Today it would all be real. A thousand scenarios raced through her mind, none of them awesome.
She knew it was Memphis, Wyatt, and Easton in her house, knew what they were setting up at the crack of dawn. Leaving them to do so, she took a long, hot shower. Breathing in calming thoughts and telling herself by this time tomorrow it would all be over. She thought if she kept her projects in her head, kept her focus beyond today, she could get through this.
She heard her front door shut, Wyatt shouting he’d see them later before it did. With her robe clutched to her, she peeked out of her room, then listened for a second before she made it to the second floor, to the playroom. Just as she arrived, she saw Easton sink in the eight ball, winning the game.
Memphis gave him hell, said it wasn’t a win because he never even had a chance to shoot, gaining a supporting bark from Haven, who was becoming a massive dog and permanent sidekick to Memphis.
Georgia leaned in the doorframe, grinning at the pair of them. Easton didn’t even bother to rebut Memphis or defend his win. His stare found Georgia, her hair damp, draping across her shoulders, not a stitch of makeup on her beautiful face, her robe clinging to her body, a body he had not had in his arms in a good thirty-two hours because he’d just gotten off work.
Memphis waved his hand at Easton, knowing it was hopeless with Georgia in the room. His boy was done for. He turned to his sister. “I’m going to get the grill and go by the store. Be back in two hours tops to help you set up.”
They both could see the wave of anxiety wash over her. Memphis had a speech ready, a funny joke, words he knew would take her mind off it, but he held back, didn’t say a word. If Easton was going to be serious with his sister, then he needed to figure out how to calm her down. He patted Easton on the shoulder, then left, only playfully nudging Georgia’s shoulder as he did so.
Georgia held Easton’s gaze as she walked in the room, her fingertips traced around the edge of the pool table as she walked around it, taking in all the nicks here and there, imagining the laughter and ease it had brought in the past.
“Still think it’s crazy you guys set this up just to take it down once this party is over.”
Easton grinned as he shook his head. They had gone round and round about this point for almost two weeks now. “Everyone brings a gift to a housewarming party,” he countered.
“Yeah, like a plant.”
This was his pool table, one he’d had in high school and in his apartment. Yep, the bad boy was in the center of his living room back in his bachelor days.
“You’re her last hope,” he said, catching Georgia as she passed by him, leaning her against the table. His arms were on either side of her.
“Her last hope,” she said, arching a brow.
“Yep. My mother has managed to find this amazing sitter for Grace so she’s antiquing again, and apparently my stuff in the attic is in her way. This is on the hit list,” he said with a sorrowful glance to the table.
She gave him a weak smile, knowing she’d end up giving in.
“You’re nervous about today,” he said, moving his hands up her arms.
She didn’t answer; she let her gaze speak for her.
“Tell me what’s scaring you.”
She bit her lip before she spoke. “All in the same room.”
He lifted his brow.
“I don’t know how to act. I don’t know if I should touch you or not around Grace. If I should play with her the way I always do. If I do, what it will seem like to your family, our friends. It’s just a big first.”
Easton’s eyes drifted across hers. He knew they had never set up ground rules for him and her, for his daughter; he assumed Georgia wanted to build what they had before the family aspect came in.
He also knew without a doubt, whether she loved him or not, Georgia was in love with Grace. He almost asked her out on his and Grace’s days together, wanting his girls in the same place, not really liking he had to live his life in shifts, but each time he went to Georgia would tell him about how full her days were, all the work she needed to catch up on. He’d been looking forward to today; it was like waiting on Christmas morning.
“You’re worried that I’m going to see how much you love my daughter instead of hearing about it from my mom and her friends, worried that Grace is going to see how happy you make me?”
She blushed and dipped her head. His fingertips rested under her chin, drawing her to look up at him. “I don’t like you leaving my bed before dawn, thinking she shouldn’t see you there. Or us not talking about her when we’re together for more than a moment. I want you completely in my life. Not at the doorway, taking a step in, then out when you think I need time with her.”
“You do need time with her, though.”
“I need and want to have time with both of you. This thing between you and me is serious, Georgia. It’s real.” He hesitated, like he always did each time his next words would beg to come forward. “I love you, Georgia. I want the world to see that. I want my daughter to.”
She launched herself on him, covering his lips with hers. He laughed through their kiss, pulling her to him. She broke away from his lips, only to bury her face in his neck. “I love you,” she breathed. His arms tightened around her as his mind shifted forward, as wistful dreams of the future seemed possible. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head before leaning back.
The most innocent look he could manage was in his eyes, but a sinful smile was dangling on his lips. “So after the party, she gets to stay, right?” he said with a nod to the pool table.
“You’re attached, aren’t you?”
He lifted her up, sitting her on the edge of it as he stepped between her legs. One pull of the tie on her robe let each side fall open. No matter how many times he laid eyes or hands on her body, it felt like the first; so much heat, so much want, fire. His hands moved around her waist. “Well,” he said in a husky voice, “this would mean you added another piece to the house. We should mark this point in time.” He’d said this after each room in the house had been completed.
Her hand landed on his stomach and moved up his chest as her head leaned back and she gazed at him with eyes full of hunger. “You have always been a little excited about me putting the rooms together.”
“The bedroom is still my favorite, but the office is a close second. No, make that the master bath.”
His hands slid up her thighs. “Can she stay? If so, we have work to do.” At this point, he could have asked her if an alligator could move in and she would have said yes. She barely nodded before his lips crashed into hers, before he devoured her mouth with his. His strong hands dipped between her thighs, only teasing before he moved them up and began caressing every inch of her. She struggled with his shirt, wanting to feel his flesh.
No time they had been together was the same. Each time they’d find a way to drive the other mad by capitalizing on a known desire. He loved having her nude when he was still dressed because that gave him control. It meant he could hold himself back until she was near spent, and she loved the fight to feel him against her, fight to pay him back for every sensation he gave her.
The shirt left him, his belt was unfastened, and the
top button of his fatigue pants had found their way loose before he took control again. With him bracing her, he arched her back, letting her neck stretch out for him, her chest rise to meet his lips. He was lavishing kisses across her flesh, blowing warm air across his path. She was a feast laid before him, a feast of beauty, of sensuality, of everything; a woman made for him who fit him in every way.
An aching want washed over her as he laid her down and his hands and lips chased each other across the warmth of her flesh. When he fell to his knees, her heart quickened. She knew how powerful his mouth was, how talented it was, knew she was about to be completely submissive to him—she was at his mercy. All she could do was say his name in a heated voice as her body writhed and those long arms reached up for her chest, her face, caressing her. He left nothing untouched.
She was finding her way back to sanity when his lips began to move from hip to hip, when they stopped to circle her navel with his tongue. He had made it to the base of her chest before she decided she could not handle it anymore and pulled him to her lips and forced him to lie down so she could sit astride him. Their eyes connected, the way they always did when they became one. No matter what rhythm they found, what room, what position, their gaze would connect, their souls would reach forward; the emotion was deep, vibrating as much as their bodies.
He could sense when she was close, when she was building. He waited for it, then leaned up and held her against him as they both rode the wave. His hands moved through her long hair, cradling the back of her head. “I love you, Georgia Armstrong. I’m so in love with you.”
That word isn’t enough, Georgia thought.
***
When Memphis made it back to his sister’s they prepped most of the food and filled the coolers on her back porch. Now the sports channel was on in the living room, the radio on outside. Everything was looking perfect.
Memphis squeezed her shoulder. “It’s going to be fun.” She made a desperate face, figuring out there was nowhere to run, this was really happening. “You have to learn to have fun.”