His cock was hard and he wanted to bury it in Luci, feeling her skin against his, his face in her hair, her body wrapped around him.
He tossed off the covers, prowled to the bathroom, used the toilet, washed his hands, splashed his face with water, brushed his teeth and stabbed the floss wrapped around his fingers through his grill.
Rinse.
Pull on a pair of sweats.
Head to the kitchen.
And there she was in her sweater robe that was soft as kitten fur, his tee on under it (fuck him), hair gorgeous even if it was still a bedhead, eyes bright and happy and aimed at him.
“Buongiorno, caro,” she greeted.
He didn’t hesitate in the stalk he had going on while replying, “What’d I say about leaving me in bed?”
Her smile grew wicked.
Yeah.
Fuck.
Him.
He grabbed her. Kissed her. He did the first rough. He did the last deep.
She tasted fresh and sunny and minty and happy.
Yeah.
Happy.
He’d never tasted that in his life.
It was beautiful.
Cosmopolitan, jet-setting, international supermodel in a nothing-special house, frying bacon for some guy who grew up on a farm, nearly fucked up his whole life, got his shit together simply to be a normal, average dude, and she was happy.
He broke the kiss, lifting his head.
“You don’t have to make breakfast for me, babe.”
Her eyes were a little fuzzy from the kiss, something he liked, and her body was relaxed into his, something he liked maybe more, though that was a tossup. “I like cooking breakfast for you.”
“Did you cook breakfast for Gordo?”
It just came right out without thought, but Hap knew why it did.
Even giving her what she thought she wanted, he’d do everything he could to put anything at his disposal between them so she’d wake up and see she was destined for better, for more, for happier.
She felt Gordo slide right between them (or more to the point, Hap shoving the memory of him there) and he knew it because she was no longer leaning into him, giving him some of her weight. She’d tightened, even if she didn’t pull away.
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “But I’m not cooking breakfast for Travis. Travis is dead. I’m cooking for you because I’m with you.”
He let her go, stepped away and lifted his hand to rub the hair on top of his head while he studied the bacon in his skillet wondering now that he’d pull that shit, what was next.
He should apologize. That was a dick thing to say.
He stood staring at the sizzling bacon and did not apologize.
“That will break us, Hap,” she declared, her voice stronger.
He dropped his hand and looked to her.
“You were avoiding speaking of him,” she noted when she got his attention. “Now that you’ve seen I won’t easily be pushed away, you’re bringing him up to use as a tool to tear us apart, and I’ll warn you, there is little I can imagine that would work in your efforts to accomplish that. But using my dead husband will.”
“You’ve got to know that shit is gonna be on my mind,” he pointed out, and there wasn’t much to be said for him doing that except it was the truth.
“Then perhaps we can discuss it when we have time, this not being when you have to get ready to go to work,” she returned.
She was now stabbing at the bacon with a fork, her chin tipped down, the line of her jaw strained.
“Luce—” he began, even though he had no idea what he was about to say.
Whatever it was, he didn’t say it when her head jerked his way and he caught the fire warring with hurt in her gaze.
He did that to her. He’d intentionally made her pissed.
He’d also intentionally hurt her.
He’d done that.
And that didn’t make him feel like a dick.
That made him feel like a motherfucker.
Shit.
“I loved him,” she declared. “This is not news to you. I mourned him when he was gone, this is not news to you either. You witnessed it. You were there to help me work through it. In ways all my own, I will mourn him forever. More that is not news to you, as you know how much I loved him and you also know what kind of man he was, so you know he deserves that kind of grief because he earned it.”
She paused, and Hap said nothing because there was nothing to say.
He did know all of this.
Luci kept going.
“I honestly don’t know what to say to you to make you feel better about this. The truth is, we would not be what we are if he was here. We both know that. But he’s not here. That was where life took us, Hap. Us, the both of us. I cannot say what Travis would say about us being together. It was not a possibility when he was alive. I would hope he’d want me to be happy. I would hope he’d want me to feel again what I felt last night when you were making love to me. What I felt this morning when I woke up beside you. What I felt when I came downstairs to cook you breakfast. But I cannot say for certain he’d be happy I was happy with you or if he’d be angry at us both. What I do I know is he is no longer here. So he does not get a say.”
She drew in breath and this time Hap didn’t get a chance to chime in because she didn’t give him a shot.
“I also know I’m happy . . . with you. With you, Hap. Look at me and listen to me and please, God, believe me. I am not making breakfast for my dead husband. I’m not sleeping at his side. I’m not making love to him. I am absolutely not using you to be with him, to get back what I had with him, to play pretend to have some part of him back. I’m here with you. And if you can’t get there with me, if you can’t believe that, if you even think I’d use you like that, I’ll find my way home and this will be done. I’ll also find a way to us having some sort of relationship that won’t make it hard for those who love us to be around us. But after what we’ve shared, you’ll need to back off and give me time to get there.”
She would end it.
All he had to do was tell her he couldn’t get past Gordo and she’d end it.
That was all he had to say.
He stood there looking at her and said nothing.
“Why don’t you take the day,” she suggested after he remained silent. “I’ll call a rental car company and have a vehicle on standby should you come home and wish me to leave. Now, if you don’t mind finishing breakfast, I’m going to get dressed and take a walk.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond.
She tossed the fork on the counter and marched out of the kitchen.
Hap didn’t move.
She’d given him his out. No screaming, shouting or tears. He’d crossed a line and she’d laid it down for him and left it to him to decide, promising that even if it was over, it wouldn’t be over.
He had an out.
He stood still and stared at where she’d disappeared and stayed right there even after some time had passed, and he heard his front door open and close.
The only reason he moved was when he smelled the bacon burning.
He threw that out, cooked more, scrambled some eggs, ate them with the bacon then went up and showered, shaved and got dressed.
He came back down, made more eggs, left them and the rest of the bacon on a plate in the oven on warm and wrote a note to her to tell her where to find her breakfast.
Then he put a key under the mat at the back door and texted her the info on where to find it.
Finally, he locked up, hauled his ass in this truck and went to work knowing when he got home they’d be over.
But they wouldn’t be over.
He was good with that.
And it killed him.
That night when Hap got home, he walked into a tidy kitchen but the only thing he saw was the key he’d left for Luci sitting on the counter.
At the sight, he felt his throat get tight, his gut constrict like it wanted to force the bile in his stoma
ch up his gullet, and his eyes shot to the living room.
The TV was dark. Luci was not to be seen.
But her black bag was sitting on the floor by the front door.
Christ.
Unlike the time between leaving her on Sunday and picking her up on Wednesday, when she texted frequently just because, and he texted her back, she had not texted him that day. Outside telling her where to find the key to get in, he also had not texted her.
But he figured she’d spent the day not like him, not feeling like an asshole and trying to convince herself it was for the best that she’d acted like that.
She’d likely spent the day just plain pissed at him for being an asshole.
He caught sight of her as she rounded the bottom of stairs, her purse over her shoulder, a suede jacket on, ready to roll.
Ready to roll.
Oh yeah.
She’d spent the day pissed at him for being an asshole.
And yeah.
He’d been right that morning.
This was going to kill him.
She stopped at the door and asked, “Shall I order a taxi?”
“Gordo was still here, but something happened to Sam, and what was going on with us went on with me and Kia, how would you feel?”
She shook her head sharply, instantly ticked, or more ticked, but she also paled, he could see it all the way across the room.
“Do not even speak of something happening to Sam,” she snapped.
“Answer the question, Luce.”
“That hasn’t happened. That won’t happen.”
“Answer the question, Luciana,” he pressed.
“It’s impossible to say because it didn’t happen that way,” she fired back.
“No. You just won’t say it because if it happened, you would not be where Kia is, okay with the idea of us not having been around when Gordo was here so not knowing how it was. You’d be pissed.”
She tipped her head to the side angrily. “Are you saying I’m interchangeable with whatever woman was left behind by one of your buddies?”
Oh no she didn’t.
Hell no.
“Now you’ve pissed me off,” he growled. “You know what I’m asking, Luci. You just won’t answer because you refuse to concede the point.”
She looked to the door then back to him, and he knew she’d hunkered down for a fight when she did.
“So are you saying you care more about what Sam thinks, what Travis would think, than what I think or what you feel?”
“I’m saying you don’t get to shut shit down just because you don’t get it,” he shot back. “You want what you want and you just want everyone to be okay with it when it’s not okay. It’s not black and white. Just what you feel or what I feel and people have to get it, and if they don’t, they have to deal. There’s people, dead and alive, people we both care about that are involved in this and that’s gonna weigh on my mind. So this is not a ‘deal with it, or don’t, just tell me what you decide and then I’ll go’ type of sitch.”
“Yes, and I did say we should talk about it when we had time to talk, not you bringing it up the way you did when we had no time to discuss it,” she retorted.
“Sorry, I’m human and I’m trying to sort through important shit, and I might not measure my words if I’m feeling things deep. It might just come out. And when it does, I don’t need, ‘figure it out and let me know, whichever way you go, I’m good.’”
Okay.
Jesus.
Why was this coming out of his mouth?
He should just let her go.
It had been on his mind all fucking day.
He’d made his decision.
He would come home and let her go.
Just let her go.
So now what the fuck was he doing?
“You’re right,” she spoke up, her chin now lifted stubbornly. “If something happened to Sam, and you and Kia moved on to what you and I have, Travis and I would be angry.” She bit the words out like she didn’t like the taste of them. “Very angry. We’d feel betrayed for Sam.”
He took a calming breath and evened his tone. “So you get where I’m at, honey, because I would not want to lose you. You or Gordo. And if it went that way, it’d destroy Kia. And that would be the most important of all. Are you hearing what I’m saying?”
She looked to the door again and he figured she did that to hide her expression from him.
Yeah, stubborn.
Hap gave her time.
When she took that time, a lot of it, he prompted, “Do you hear what I’m saying, Luci?”
She turned her attention back to him and she did not share she heard what he was saying.
He still knew by the look on her face she heard what he was saying.
She changed the subject to one that was even less comfortable. “It’s important for me to know that you know that I’m very aware who I’m spending time with and I want to be with you, Hap. I’m not trying to replace Travis and using you to do that.”
He hated that she thought he thought that.
He hated it worse that it was actually what he thought.
That wasn’t her.
She would never do that.
And he knew it.
“It was a dick thing to say. It was a dick time to say it. You’re right, I’m trying to push you away,” he admitted.
And goddammit, he not only seemed to have no control over his mouth, the relief on her face made his stomach settle and his breathing start to come easier.
What she did next was even better.
Which made it worse.
“And I should not have put it all on your shoulders what would happen from there,” she swung an arm out to indicate her bag by the door, “or had my mini-drama in making my point. I should have found another way to settle things so we both would not have had the days we both had. And instead, I should have waited for you to come home so we could discuss it.”
“It was me that screwed that pooch, baby,” he said softly. “You were making me bacon and I was being a dick.”
“You don’t fight fire with fire, Hap.”
She had that right.
He was still in the wrong.
He wasn’t going to push that discussion, because he could tell she was set on taking part of the blame even if she really had no part, so he’d get nowhere.
And it sucked because it was awesome that she could admit that he did something fucked up, she returned something fucked up, and she regretted it.
Yeah.
She made it seem like they could work.
“I’m sensing you’re going to test me,” she went on. “Test us. And I cannot fall down in proving that I believe in what I feel for you, what we can have. But I also now understand more of why you’re thinking how you’re thinking, and I’m glad I do, bello. I will be stronger. I promise you. Because, in truth, even if our pasts did not make this difficult, something would. That’s simply life and no matter what, we’d need to prove to each other that what we can have will be worth any trouble we face along the way.”
Hap had known her a long time. He knew she was beautiful. He knew she was funny. He knew she was warm, loving, affectionate. He knew she was loyal. He knew she was well-traveled. But even with her sophistication, she was as comfortable at a picnic table at a crab shack as she was in an expensive steak house. He also knew she was smart.
But he had not known her to be wise.
“Do you know what scares me the most?” he asked.
Jesus.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He just could not stop his mouth from running.
“What scares you the most, luce mio?” she asked gently.
“Fucking this up and hurting you.”
And Christ . . .
Christ.
The look on her face that bought him nearly took him to his knees.
“You won’t hurt me, Hap,” she whispered.
“I want you to be happy.”
�
�You’re making me happy,” she replied.
“Yeah, babe. Your bag packed and sitting by the door screams happy,” he pointed out.
She walked to him and he let her. When she got close, she didn’t get too close, but she did frame his face in both of her hands.
“You do know I did that to myself,” she said quietly.
“I took us there.”
“And I kept us there. We both didn’t handle this morning very well, my Happy.”
My Happy.
His nickname was Hap, which came from “Happy” because once he found the Army—once he’d found a new family that did not include his dad and his mom and their bullshit, and his grandparents and the loss of everything they knew and loved and worked so hard to keep—once he’d seen the man he could become and knew it was in his power to be that man, he’d been really fucking happy.
So he became that guy who would crack a joke to lighten a tense atmosphere and people would relax, or that guy who walked into a dud of a party and brought it to life by being loud and acting like an ass just so folks would loosen up.
But no one called him Happy.
The way she said it gave it new meaning and good Christ, it felt like that meaning settled in every cell in his body.
And the feeling was good.
“You cannot take it all on your shoulders, caro,” she continued. “Especially when I contribute to fucking things up. Yes?”
He stared into her warm, brown eyes, which were staring deep into his.
“Yes?” she prompted, drifting her hands down to either side of his neck and curling her fingers around tight.
“Yeah, baby,” he muttered.
A whisper of a smile hit her lips. “That was not very convincing.”
He felt his mouth lift in a grin but he said nothing.
She kept hold on him and tipped her head to the side. “Shall I make dinner?”
“I’m frying us hamburgers.”
She smiled and when she did, she lit his world.
Now, by letting this carry on, he was screwing this pooch and he did not care if he got chewed up in the process.
But if she did . . .
“I like hamburgers,” she told him something he knew.
“I know.”
Yeah, he knew.
He also knew she liked cheese melted on, American, as well as ketchup, mustard and pickles.
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