A Long Way Home

by Wendy Vella

  “Is she okay?”

  The serious tone of Mikey’s voice told Hope the call was not a friendly one. The boy had stopped slouching and was standing upright, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched.

  “B-but, Connor, is she… I c-can’t say it.”

  Faith and Hope moved closer.

  “Okay, I’m coming. Did you call Jake?”

  Mikey looked gray as he pocketed his phone.

  “Connor found my nana on the floor. Sh-she’s—”

  “Let’s go.” Hope took his arm. “I’ll let you know what’s happening, Faith. Call Branna and send her there.”

  “Okay.” Faith hugged the boy.

  Mikey gripped her hand as they sprinted out of the Howler and along the main street. She didn’t know what to say to him, so she simply held his hand tight in hers. Fear radiated from the boy and her heart ached for him.

  “Hope?”

  Newman was suddenly running beside them.

  “M-Mikey’s n-nana. Sick,” she managed to wheeze.

  He didn’t say anything, just moved to the other side of Mikey and kept pace with them.

  Mikey’s house was in the same street as hers. At the end, it was small, also like hers, and in need of a paint. But for all that, the garden was weeded and it looked clean. The front door was open. Mikey sprinted through it with Newman and Hope on his heels. They found Dr. Jake McBride inside.

  “Jake?” Mikey stopped inside the door.

  Over his head Hope looked for Mikey’s nana, but only saw Connor Tucker. He was crying.

  Jake walked toward Mikey, opened his arms, and the boy flew into them.

  “She’s gone, Mikey.”

  Newman urged Hope into the room as the boy began to howl. It was loud and painful, and Newman swallowed several times at the anguish he was so obviously feeling.

  “Connor, I’m so sorry.”

  He and Hope took the seats on either side of the man. They weren’t friends, because Connor hung with a different crowd, but still, he was a Howler, and Howlers stuck together.

  “I-I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  The devastation on his face was real. Newman watched Hope hold out her hand to Connor, and he slipped his inside. He remembered then, they’d hung out at school occasionally.

  “I-I found her.” He cried then. Loud like his little brother, and Hope held him while he did so.

  Newman pulled out his phone and found Cubby’s number. He called him and broke the news. Cubby would see to details.

  Branna and Rose arrived next, followed by Annabelle and the two Texans. Last was Macy and her boy, Billy. They were all here for the Tucker boys, and would stay until they were no longer needed.

  Mikey left Jake and fell into Branna’s arms. Jake picked up Rose and joined the huddle. Newman watched the little girl pat Mikey’s back and place kisses on his cheek.

  “It’s all right, Mikey,” she said softly.

  “I have to call my family,” Connor said when he’d stopped crying.

  “I’ve told Cubby, Connor.”

  The man nodded, then heaved a deep breath.

  “I can’t believe she’s gone,” he said, looking at the wall, but not really seeing. “She’s been the only constant in Mikey’s and my life.”

  “We got you now, Connor.” Newman regained his feet. “You’re not alone, you know that.”

  He nodded, then pulled out his phone and started making calls. The hardest calls he’d ever likely made.

  “You okay?” Newman turned to find that Hope had risen.

  “Sure.”

  Her face was closed, and she was battling down the tears. The grief in the room was so thick you could reach out and grab a handful. It choked him. He hated death, hated grief, and felt helpless when there was nothing he could do to make things better. Newman liked to be in control of a situation, and if not that, then find a solution. Death robbed him of that.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “No. I’m not the one in pain, Newman.”

  “But you look sad, and I know some of that is because you believe I shouldn’t have said what I did to that limp dick, but—”

  “You’re actually talking about this now?” She said the words softly, but there was force behind them.

  “Okay, bad timing. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you doing anything rash.”

  “Like you did, do you mean?”

  “It wasn’t rash and it will work out.”

  She looked at him, studied every inch of his face, and Newman suddenly felt naked, as if she could read every thought he held inside. Every fear and uncertainty.

  “Maybe you just can’t fix this, Newman, did you think about that? How would that sit on your Superman complex?”

  Newman looked around them, but no one was listening.

  “I don’t have a Superman complex.”

  She gave him another steady look, and he resisted shuffling his feet.

  “You can’t help everyone, Newman. It’s just not possible, and you’ll burn yourself out trying.”

  She walked away from him then, leaving him feeling raw, rubbed the wrong way, and not sure what the hell he was meant to do now. Picking up the phone he called Cubby again, to bring some food when he came.

  Yes, he liked to help people. He just didn’t like the fact that Hope had poked at that place inside him and made him think about why he felt a need to. There was his dad and the shit he carried from him, he understood that, but hell, it wasn’t a problem… was it?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Newman walked down the road, intent on running home. He’d been at the Tucker house for hours. Hope had left an hour ago, and he’d wanted to follow, but had stayed in case he was needed. He’d stayed at Connor’s side while the man handled stuff. The funeral arrangements would be made when the rest of the Tucker family arrived.

  It was approaching early evening, and he was sure he had a whole shitload of work to catch up on but didn’t have the enthusiasm to tackle it.

  Reaching the end of Hope’s driveway, he found himself turning down it for no other reason than he wanted to see her, even though he knew his reception would not be a good one. The woman had him tied in knots, and for the life of him he couldn’t fathom why.

  “Paul.”

  His head snapped up and shoulders went back as he noted Militant heading toward her car, which was under a cover and stowed in the carport.

  “Can I help you there, Ms. Lawrence?”

  “You can. I’m going see HRH to work out how best the book club can help the Tucker family in their time of need.”

  “Ah... HRH?” Newman took the cover off, wondering if he’d heard the words correctly.

  “We’re not fools, Paul. We know what the children in this town, and some of the adults, call us. We just choose to ignore it, as we quite like our nicknames.”

  He looked over the hood of her car to see if he was actually speaking to the right person. Yup, there she stood. Militant Lawrence. Mouth drawn into a line, red spikes in her hair quivering. Dressed in black.

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be back later, as we are also researching a location for our next book club field trip.”

  “I thought you didn’t like field trips?” Newman said before he could stop himself. Don’t engage!

  “You’ve a smart mouth on you, young man. And perhaps I once did not like them, but I do now.”

  He nodded.

  “I, however, will be selecting the driver of our transportation this time.”

  Annabelle had driven them last time, and Militant had sat on her shoulder watching the speed limit for the entire journey.

  “I’m sure I’m busy that day.”

  She snorted. “I did not ask you.”

  “No, of course you didn’t,” he said quickly.

  “Now, you will go into the house and see Hope. Don’t make her unhappy, she is already that. I expect it to be in the exact condition it is in when I return.”

  Newman was at a loss to unde
rstand what she was talking about.

  “Pardon?”

  “No mess will be left behind.”

  His eyes nearly crossed at the thought of making a mess with Hope, but he didn’t think her mother would appreciate him mentioning that fact.

  “Out of all of them, I’ve always liked you best.”

  On these ominous words. Militant got into her car, fired it to life, and backed out, missing Newman’s toes by centimeters. She then crawled up the driveway slower than a snail.

  “Dear Christ, what the hell was that about?” he wondered, lowering the cover he still held to the floor. He headed to the front door and knocked. When no one answered, he turned the handle and walked inside.

  “What are you doing?” he muttered, walking down the hall. He peered in the lounge and kitchen, but saw no sign of Hope. The garden was empty of her also, which left her bedroom. Checking the first two, he came up empty, but found her in the third one.

  He snapped a picture of Hope with his cell phone, because he was fairly certain he’d never recreate the moment anytime soon. She lay on her bed, dressed in a pink kimono. Hair wet, long legs bare, and she slept with earbuds in her ears. She looked soft, approachable, and he wanted her with a hunger that drove him to move closer.

  “Hope.” The name was raw, and wrenched from him.

  Her eyes opened, but she didn’t look afraid. She pulled the buds from her ears, and looked up at him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Hell if I know.”

  His heart was thudding, and he could do nothing to stop himself placing a knee on the bed beside her. He then braced his hands on either side of her head and leaned in.

  “No.” The word was whispered, and it sounded more like a plea than a deterrent.

  She reached for him as he took her lips beneath his. It was deep and hungry, and he wanted more. Where one kiss finished, another started, and on it went until he wasn’t sure if it would ever end.

  “God, Hope.”

  “I know, and it’s wrong.”

  “I don’t know how it could be,” he whispered, opening the sash at her waist. Parting the robe, he looked at what he’d unwrapped. Pale curves, long limbs, and full breasts. He wanted to map every inch of her with his mouth.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  That made her snort.

  “You seriously are.” He kissed her neck as he ran his hands up her sides. Her skin was warm and smooth. She smelled delicious.

  “Who’d have thought it. Hope Lawrence smells really good.”

  She giggled, but that fell away as his mouth reached her breast. He licked the slope and she shuddered. He then took her nipple into his mouth.

  “Oh God!”

  She arched into him, and Newman’s body was soon painfully aroused. He’d never felt the need to possess a woman like he did Hope. He wanted her willing, he wanted her wet and aching for him. He wanted her to need him.

  “Let me pleasure you, Hope.”

  The eyes she’d had shut, sprang open. She then wrestled him off his feet and onto the bed beside her.

  “I don’t need you looking after me, Newman.”

  “I-I wasn’t.”

  “You were, but that’s stopping right now.”

  She forced his T-shirt up his body and over his head. She then opened his shorts and shimmied them down his legs, stripping off his sneakers at the same time.

  “Hope, I don’t need you to—” He forgot the last word as she straddled him.

  “Shut up, Newman, and take your punishment.”

  Her mouth was on his chest, licking his skin, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe. Newman liked to take charge in these situations. He liked to administer the pleasure, then take his second. Hope had wrested that from him.

  “Hope, really…” She had her hands on him now. They were tracing the waistband of his boxer shorts.

  “What’s the problem here, Newman? You got control issues?” She looked up at him from beneath long, spiky black lashes, and her eyes were filled with wicked heat.

  “Yes… no.” He couldn’t think straight, as her hand was now cupping his erection and running up and down the length, driving him crazy.

  “Yes,” she whispered, circling his nipple with her tongue. She then bit him, sending a bolt of lust straight down his body.

  “Christ!” He dug his fingers into her hair and held on as she slowly tortured him, moving ever closer to where her hand was caressing him. Newman wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t disgrace himself when she eased his underwear down his legs and took him in her hands. Her mouth slid down the hard length, and he moaned long and loud. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he gripped the bedcovers. It was heaven and hell combined. The silken glide of her mouth, and swirl of her tongue transported him to places he’d never been before.

  He withstood as much as he could, then hauled her up his body.

  “My turn.” He attempted to wrestle her beneath him, but she slid down his body until he felt her, damp and ready. Newman couldn’t stop his hips moving, and slid inside her. The feeling was so good he moaned again, but this time it was accompanied by Hope’s.

  “So good,” she said, sitting upright.

  She looks good naked , was the only thought he could muster before she started moving. He cupped her breasts as she rode him. He let her, and then grabbed her waist and threw her down on the bed beside him. He then held her there with one hand while he did his own torturing.

  His body screamed for release, but there was no way in hell that was happening until he’d made her beg.

  He kissed her breasts, taking his time circling each nipple until she screamed at him to end her torment. Of course he didn’t, but he enjoyed hearing her beg.

  Her stomach was softly rounded, unlike most of the women he’d slept with, who were taut and muscled from gym work. It felt good, and tasted better. Moving lower, he parted her legs, then licked the damp folds between them and gave her the most intimate kiss of all. She clamped her legs around his head and held on. Usually a quiet person, Hope rarely spoke unless she had to. The opposite was true in the bedroom.

  “More!”

  She cried and screamed. She moaned and sighed. Newman loved every sound she uttered, especially when he grazed his teeth over the hard bud between her thighs and she pulled his hair as she came… loudly.

  He drove her higher using his fingers and mouth, until she was sobbing his name. Only then did he open her legs and slide deep inside her again.

  “God, you feel good.”

  Hope had her eyes closed, hands clenched as he thrust into her again and again, the spike of heat inside him beginning to climb. When he was near, he lifted her hips and thrust deeper, and she answered him with a little squeal, and then they were both gone. Scaling the summit, and spiraling into ecstasy.

  He fell forward, his head resting on her body, legs sliding off the bed, feet hitting the floor. He was weightless, exhausted, and felt so good, he wasn’t sure there was actually a name for it.

  Her hand was in his hair, fingers stroking his scalp, and he thought about purring but didn’t have the energy. Easing himself upright, he looked down at her. She was the picture of a thoroughly sated woman. Newman managed to roll into the place beside her on the narrow bed. He felt boneless, all his energy sapped.

  “Are you okay, Hope? I didn’t hurt you?”

  She rolled onto her side as he spoke, her eyes on him.

  “No, I can honestly say I feel pretty good, thanks, Newman. But I’m still angry with you.”

  “Sure, I felt that anger, right before you came.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Hope wasn’t sure what had just happened, but she didn’t have the energy to examine it at the moment.

  “You want something to eat or drink?”

  “Newman, I’m okay, really. Stop trying to get me things.”

  “I was just being nice.”

  “I know you like to help people, and that’s admirable, really,�
�� Hope said, then realized as he sat up that she maybe should have left this discussion inside her head.

  “Admirable?”

  The word was clipped.

  “I mean, there’s no doubting your friends need you and stuff, but you have to stop sometime, surely?”

  “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, and if this is your attempt at after-sex talk, it sucks.”

  He was getting angry, but Hope had gone this far, she wasn’t going to back away now. Besides, it wasn’t like he wasn’t always hassling her.

  “I was just pointing out that you can’t help everyone, and you are needed. So if your helping is a result of your dad’s behavior toward you, you don’t have to do that anymore.” Excellent, Hope. You should have just kept your mouth shut like you usually do. See what happens when you try to be like other people?

  “And this is your professional opinion, is it?”

  He climbed off the bed, and grabbed his shorts. The man had a hot body, she noted. Every muscle defined, and the really sexy ones that dipped down on both sides of his stomach and disappeared into his shorts were mouthwatering. Broad shouldered, he was a very sexy male, if an angry one.

  “Why is it okay for you to dissect my life and insult my clothing choices, and yet you, on the other hand, get offended when I get too personal?”

  “I’m not offended,” he snapped, pulling up his T-shirt. “And I don’t know where this crap about my father came from.”

  “This is you not being offended, is it?” Hope decided not to dig any deeper into the stuff about his father.

  “Look.” He pushed a handful of curls out of his eyes, and they now stood off his head in a halo. Way too cute , Hope thought. “This was nice, and I’m sorry for what I did earlier, without your knowledge, but I really think it will work out… What?”

  He added the last word when Hope rose to her knees, taking the sheet with her.

  “You slept with me to apologize? You bastard!”

  “No. Shit! That came out wrong.”

  He was rattled, like she now was. What they’d just shared had rocked him like it had her… at least she hoped it had, because she was seriously unsettled. Hope had had sexual partners, okay, only two, but still, this was off-the-scales by comparison.