by Tee O'Fallon
“Very funny.” She punched his arm, something she’d always done when they were kids and he’d pissed her off, which back then was pretty much all the time.
He turned to shake hands with his dad. They’d gotten off to a rocky start, but Doc Lawrence was also helping him to repair that relationship as well.
His dad surprised him by pulling him into a bear hug. “Good to see you, Son.”
“You, too, Dad.” He clapped his father on the back, grateful for his family’s presence and support. Maybe I can get through tonight after all. Then he lifted his gaze and spotted Mr. and Mrs. Wilshire in deep conversation with a large group of people at the far end of the hall.
His stomach clenched. A bead of sweat ran down his back between his shoulder blades. Again, his throat constricted, and he could barely breathe. What the fuck? He had never had one before but knew the signs. He was on the verge of an all-out panic attack.
Clenching his hands to hide their shaking, he pulled away from his father. I can’t do this. I’m not ready.
Like a coward, he turned to run but froze, barely feeling his father’s hand grabbing his arm. He blinked, shaking his head to clear his vision. He had to be dreaming. Trista was walking toward him, looking like a beautiful woodland nymph, and he drank her in like a man who was lost in the desert and had just spotted an oasis.
The full-length green dress shimmered and swirled around her legs as she glided across the floor. The tight bodice held up by thin spaghetti straps drew his gaze to her beautiful breasts. Her honey-blond hair was piled high, with delicate tendrils framing her heart-shaped face. The only jewelry she wore were long, dangly gold earrings and a matching necklace that dipped low into her cleavage.
Stunning didn’t cut it. She was…extraordinary. But it was more than that. Her unexpected presence lit up his world. Just when he thought he’d been about to choke and run, she was there, like a lifeline, saving him from drowning and dying right there in front of hundreds of people.
As the crowd parted for her to reach him, people began to whisper, but he couldn’t make out a single word. Every fiber of his being, every cell in his body, was focused on the woman now linking her fingers with his.
“Hi,” she said, looking up at him with smiling green eyes that looked even more verdant thanks to her dress. “You know, you could kiss me. That would be a good icebreaker.”
Still in shock, he did as she asked and dropped a light kiss on her lips. Only then did he take in her perfectly applied makeup. Since he’d never seen her wear any before, he began to suspect his sister had something to do with it, and for Trista being here. And she smelled amazing, like flowers, and vanilla, and sugary spice. He also noticed that she was taller than he remembered and glanced at her feet.
“Like ’em?” She held out one foot, revealing a strappy gold sandal. “They took a little getting used to before I could walk in them without falling on my face, but I’m a full four inches taller. I love that.”
And I love you, he nearly blurted, his heart about to burst with the power and intensity of the emotions he was feeling. But he was so blown away by the fact she was there that he was rendered speechless. Besides, with all these people crowding around him now—including his own family—he wanted to say it in private, when they were alone.
“You look incredible.” He ran his hands up and down her bare arms, admiring the light muscle definition that hadn’t been there before. “You been working out?”
“Every day.”
“Looks good on you.” He couldn’t wait to see what other body parts she’d been working out.
More to his shock, his father leaned down to kiss Trista on the cheek, as did his sister and mother.
“You all had a hand in this, didn’t you?” He narrowed his eyes, feigning annoyance, when what he really felt was gratitude for their foresight and thoughtfulness. They’d known he’d need help, that he would falter, and they were right.
“We might have helped out.” His sister linked her arm through Trista’s and the two women shared a conspiratorial wink. “A little.”
“I hope you’re not mad that I’m here.” Trista suddenly looked worried.
“Mad?” He laughed in disbelief. “Hell no.”
“Language,” his mother admonished, and they all laughed.
Not caring that his entire family was watching, along with half the people in the banquet hall, he slipped his arm around Trista’s waist and pulled her in for a none-too-chaste kiss. When he lifted his head, there was no mistaking the love he saw mirrored in her eyes.
He clasped her hand to his chest. “Come with me?” he asked, looking over her shoulder to where the Wilshires were watching him.
“Anywhere,” she answered in a firm voice.
“Excuse us,” he said to his family, then led her toward the Wilshires. Along the way, his chest tightened, but his body no longer trembled, and his throat didn’t close up on him. All because Trista was at his side.
Before they got to the Wilshires, she squeezed his hand and pulled his head down. “You got this.”
He couldn’t help smiling back at her, but when they reached Jerry’s family, he sobered in a heartbeat. Jerry’s parents had aged since he’d last seen them but not unusually so. In his black tux, Bob Wilshire looked distinguished as always. Jerry’s mom, Anne, though frailer now, still reminded him of a debutante in her white evening gown. Liz and Alex, Jerry’s brother and sister, looked pretty much the same, just older, and married now, with spouses at their sides.
Though he’d rehearsed this moment over and over in his head for the past week and a half, words fled him now. What do you say to a family whose son died because of you?
Mrs. Wilshire’s eyes glistened, then she gracefully wrapped her arms around him, her body shaking as she cried against his chest. He held her gently, swallowing repeatedly, desperately holding back his own gushing waterworks.
Then it was Mr. Wilshire’s turn to join the awkward reunion, as he dropped an arm across Matt’s shoulders. “You should never have made yourself scarce around our household.”
“Dear,” Mrs. Wilshire said, pulling away, then reaching to cup his cheek, “we needed you with us. You were family, like a third son, and we missed you.”
“What?” He gave Jerry’s mother a bewildered look. The sincerity in her eyes stunned him. “Missed me? I thought you hated me.”
Liz came forward, her cheeks wet with tears. “What Mom and Dad are trying to say is that we didn’t blame you for what happened. Jerry craved action and adventure just as much as you did. Even at sixteen, he was his own man. There was no telling him he couldn’t do something, because he’d do it anyway and wouldn’t care if he was grounded for life.”
Alex cleared his throat, obviously trying not to lose it. “My little brother wanted to be a fireman more than anything. We read the police report. We know what happened, and we know what led up to it. You were there, but it wasn’t your fault.”
Mrs. Wilshire pulled away from Matt. She grasped his wrists and held up his scarred hands. “You tried to save him.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Mr. Wilshire reiterated, squeezing his shoulder. “You have to accept that. We did then, and we still do now. You need to do the same.”
I do. Finally, I do. His throat closed up again. Not due to a panic attack this time, but from emotion as he absorbed the Wilshires’ compassionate forgiveness and faced down the ghost that had haunted him for two decades. Part of him now regretted not having been there for the Wilshires, sharing their grief, helping them through it while they did the same for him. But he understood now that back then, his guilt had been so overwhelming and self-destructive that he wouldn’t have been capable of giving, let alone receiving, anything remotely resembling compassion. So he’d isolated himself from the Wilshires, from his own family, and fled, both physically and emotionally.
“I’m sorry. For so much, but most of all that I wasn’t there for you. Couldn’t be there for you.” Without any embarr
assment, he swiped at the single tear tracking down his face. Letting go of Jerry’s ghost completely would probably never happen, but he was damned sure going to try to keep a lid on that specter so he could live his life and be happy again.
“We understood.” Mrs. Wilshire extracted a lace handkerchief from a slim evening bag he hadn’t noticed before and dabbed at her own eyes. “Please sit with us at dinner. We’ve reserved room for you and the rest of your family at our table.” She peered around him at Trista, who he now realized had graciously stepped back to allow him this moment with Jerry’s family. “Matthew, where are your manners? Aren’t you going to introduce us to your lovely girlfriend?”
My girlfriend? Definitely, and hopefully more someday soon.
As he held out a hand to her, Trista gazed up at him with glistening eyes. She’d been there with him the entire time. His silent strength. Again, he wanted to tell her how crazy in love with her he was, but it still wasn’t the right time. Instead, he reached for her hand, tugging her to his side. “Mr. and Mrs. Wilshire, Alex, Liz, this is Trista Gold. My girlfriend,” he added, eminently liking the sound of it.
The beatific smile on Trista’s face told him she liked the sound of it, too.
An hour later, when everyone had finished dinner and was awaiting the Wilshires’ presentation of the annual charity check, Matt massaged Trista’s thigh beneath the table, loving the way the silk of her dress glided over her shapely, toned leg. She linked their fingers together and gave him a look so full of promise his brain went wild with erotic thoughts of all the things he planned to do to her in his bed after the banquet.
He leaned in, brushing his lips over her ear. “When we get home, I’m going to strip you out of that dress, then kiss, and lick, and suck on every inch of your beautiful body.” Home. His home was her home. She just didn’t know it yet.
“I might just have to do the same to you.” With a playful gleam in her eyes, she slowly, seductively ran the tip of her tongue over her upper lip, then the lower one.
Beneath the table, he went rock hard and pulled her hand over him so she’d know exactly what her little tongue teaser had done to him.
She began to grin when the room went silent, and he only now realized the Wilshire family had left the table and gathered on the dais. Mr. Wilshire stood behind the podium.
“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of my family, I want to welcome and thank you all for attending this year’s annual charity banquet to honor our son, brother, and”—he looked directly at Matt—“best friend, Jerry Wilshire.”
Matt dipped his head to Jerry’s dad in silent thanks for the acknowledgment and swallowed the lump in his throat. When Trista leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, he drew in a grateful breath. His life was about to get a whole lot better.
“We normally take in about one hundred thousand dollars every year,” Mr. Wilshire continued. “I am pleased to say that this year’s donations far exceeded our anticipated goals. Without further ado, I would like to announce this year’s worthy recipient.” The crowd hushed as he opened the white envelope his wife handed him. “I am pleased to present this check for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars to Jerry’s Place, owned and managed by Matthew Connors.”
The crowd went wild, the applause and whistling so loud Matt couldn’t think straight. His jaw dropped, barely able to process what he’d heard. The entire room was standing and cheering. In fact, he was the only one in the entire banquet hall still sitting.
“Matt!” Trista managed to pull him to his feet, then hugged him tightly. “Congratulations.” It took her nudging him toward the dais for his feet to move.
The next thing he knew he was on stage, shaking Mr. Wilshire’s hand while Jerry’s dad handed him that whopper of a check along with a wood-and-brass plaque. Then he was hugged by every one of the Wilshire family, and the applause grew to deafening heights. Mr. Wilshire urged him behind the podium to say a few words.
Over three hundred guests sat in their chairs. The room was so silent he could swear he heard the blood pounding through his veins. He ran a finger under his collar, stalling for time as he surveyed the crowd. Receiving this check tonight hadn’t even been a remote possibility for him. He hadn’t applied. And he had no speech prepared. All he could do was speak from the heart.
He opened his mouth to say something but stopped as he choked up. Fuck. He looked over at the Wilshires standing to his left and to his right, at his own family still seated at the table. Last, he looked at Trista, absorbing her strength and love as if it was the antidote for everything gone wrong in his world. Everything that was now suddenly, unexpectedly right.
With her at his side, he could make it through anything.
“Jerry’s Place has been a dream of mine for years. What started out as a selfish need to commemorate my best friend will, with this money”—he held up the check—“help young people in need of support, compassion, and healing. Building Jerry’s Place did that for me, and I hope it will do that for others.”
The crowd applauded, then went silent. The words he’d just spoken were true. He was finally on the road to healing, and he had Jerry’s Place to thank for it. But there were others to thank as well.
“I’d like to thank the Wilshires for having faith in me and bestowing me with the honor and fiscal ability to bring Jerry’s Place to life.” More clapping. “Coming here tonight was the second most difficult thing I’ve had to do in my life. It’s been a long journey to get here, and I couldn’t have done it without my family, who have always been there for me, even if I was too stupid and thickheaded to know it.” This time, the applause was mingled with good-natured laughter.
When the room went quiet this time, a sense of peace enveloped him, and he looked directly at Trista, no longer able to hold back the words he’d intended to say to her privately. “Last, I’d like to thank the one person who pushed me to face my fears and start living again. Trista Gold, I love you and wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you.”
As the room erupted, he left the stage and strode to the table. Trista held her hands over her mouth, her beautiful green eyes glistening. He pulled her to her feet and deep-kissed her right there in front of everyone. Vaguely, he heard the cheers and laughter, but his heart and soul—hell, every part of him—was focused on the incredible woman in his arms.
She pulled away, gazing up at him. “I love you, too.”
The noise in the room was so loud he’d barely heard the words. His heart and soul were bursting with love, something he never believed could happen. But it had. Trista standing before him was living proof that he’d conquered his biggest fear.
This is the beginning of the rest of my life.
A life that had been waiting twenty years.
Epilogue
Sheba pirouetted around Trista’s legs, barking and whining with such exuberance that Poofy scampered up the stairs and disappeared.
After leaving the banquet, they’d picked up Poofy at Bonnie and Kevin’s, along with Trista’s overnight bag. Matt had wanted her to pack all her things, but she’d politely declined, saying they needed to spend some time together before taking that big step. And she also harbored a secret fear. Although he said he loved her, Matt had just gone through an emotional roller coaster, and he needed time to process.
Aside from the animals, they had the house to themselves. Matt’s friends were all working a midnight shift and wouldn’t be back until morning.
“I missed you, too, Sheba.” She knelt beside the dog and was rewarded with a wet muzzle in her face and a paw to shake. “Yes, I know. I do, I really, really do.”
Matt let out an impatient sound, and she looked up to see him watching both her and the dog with an impatient expression. “Are you two done yet?”
“We missed each other.” She gave Sheba’s ears a good scratching until the dog leaned into her hand.
“What about me?” He scowled, making her realize just how much she’d missed him and his adorable scowls.
“Sheba, sedni!”
Sheba leaped to her feet and sat obediently at Matt’s side.
The abruptness of his tone shocked Trista, and she was taken aback by the even deeper scowl on his handsome face. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was anxious about something.
“What’s wrong?” She stood and ran her hands up his chest then down his muscled arms, loving all the incredible things the tailored tuxedo did for his body. The man looked delicious but way too serious. “Whatever it is, I promise I’ll make you forget all about it.” To prove her point, she licked her lips as she’d done at the banquet, then slid her hand to the front of his pants. At her touch, he hardened, sending a jolt of awareness and red-hot need shooting from her belly to her core.
She tugged on his arm, intending to drag him upstairs to bed and peel off his tux to get at all those hard, smooth muscles, but he resisted. Trying to move a man his size was like trying to move a two-story supercomputer.
“I have something for you.” He dug into his pants pocket, then handed her something, curling her fingers around it.
She instantly recognized what it was. “My charm bracelet!” As Matt nodded, she narrowed her eyes. “Is this so you can track me again wherever I go?”
“No.” He smiled. “I took the tracker off, but I added a new charm to replace it.”
She peered closely at the bracelet, nudging the charms around on the metal chain, searching for the new one. Her fingers stilled, and she gasped.
Hooked between the heart and dragonfly charms was a diamond ring. She hadn’t noticed it at first because it was white gold and blended in with the other silver charms.
When Matt knelt next to Sheba and took her hand in his, her heart seemed to stop beating altogether.
“Trista Gold.” He gazed up at her. “I love you with all my heart and always will. I want you. Now and forever, if you’ll have me. Will you marry me?”