Falling Together (All That Remains #2)

by S. M. Shade

  “It’s not impossible for two blue-eyed people to have a brown-eyed child because recessive genes come into play. And while your eyes look black, a study suggests people whose eyes appear black really have very dark brown pigment.” After pausing for a moment to think, Carson continues. “Immunity could be affected by recessive genes as well, or some other factor I haven’t considered, so I could be wrong, but it makes sense. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Jayla doesn’t know her father, and her mother was incarcerated when the plague hit. They could both be immune. Joseph is immune, but you don’t know whether Walker’s surrogate survived, do you?” he asks.

  “No, I don’t.” We had no contact with the woman who carried our twins after the birth.

  “If you both survived, you and the surrogate passed the immunity to Walker, but since your husband wasn’t immune then Walker’s twin wasn’t immune. He didn’t have two immune parents.”

  We thought it was a miracle when we found out each of our sperm donations managed to fertilize its own egg, resulting in fraternal twins with two different fathers. The odds of that are astronomical, even with the help of fertility drugs. When I allowed myself to think of Mason’s death, I’d assumed he’d died because he wasn’t my blood, and Tim wasn’t immune. I figured Walker had gotten his immunity from me, and was even more convinced after meeting Abby and Carson. I never considered it took two immune parents, or wondered if the surrogate survived. No wonder there are so few of us left.

  Carson goes on. “My grandparents died before the plague and so did Julie’s parents, so they could’ve been immune. That leaves Eric.” Carson turns to him hopefully.

  “My mom died in a car crash years ago, and I haven’t seen my father in a few years. I don’t know if he’s still alive. So, technically, yes, they could be immune.” Carson grins.

  “If it does prove to be true, Carson, what difference does it make now?” Airen asks.

  Carson stares at him incredulously. “Are you kidding? It means your biological father could still be alive, not to mention mine, Troy’s, and Eric’s. Joseph and Jayla’s parents could’ve survived. Plus, mom’s brother Brandon. If my grandparents were immune and they passed it to Mom, it follows that he could have inherited it as well. We could have family we didn’t even know existed.”

  Christ. He’s right. My parents could be alive. Despite the fact that they threw me away when I was only fifteen, a part of me wants to know. We’re all somewhat subdued as we finish eating. The thought of my parents and their fate weighs heavy on my mind, and it seems I’m not the only one struggling to absorb Carson’s bombshell.

  “I’m sorry,” he volunteers, glancing around the silent table. “I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I get carried away when I have an idea.” His face is pinched with anxiety.

  “It’s okay,” Abby reassures him. “It’s better to know the truth. If you’re correct, honey, you’ve given us a lot to think about.” He certainly has.

  In an attempt to lighten the mood, Airen spends a few minutes teasing Carson about his brain growing too large for his skull.

  “That’s physiologically impossible,” Carson replies, rolling his eyes.

  Airen grins and pokes him in the arm. “Nuh uh, it’s a theory…and…studies suggest it. So factor that into your…hypothesis.”

  “Two points for the big vocabulary word, but any credibility you may have had disappeared when you said nuh uh.” Everyone cracks up and Airen flips a piece of bread at Carson. We can always count on those two for comic relief, and by the end of our meal, we’re all in a better mood.

  I grin at Troy as we start down the trail towards home. “I see Abby loaded you down with leftovers.”

  “And her recipe. It’s surprisingly simple.”

  “Walker’s going to spend the night at Carson’s tonight, you know.”

  “Hmm.” He smiles at me with feigned innocence. “What can we possibly do to entertain ourselves for an entire child free night?” His palm is warm against my cheek when he slips his hand into my back pocket.

  “I have a few ideas,” I murmur, stealing a quick kiss.

  “I thought you might.”

  * * * *

  Both sated, we fall naked into bed, and I cuddle up in Troy’s embrace. My hope we would take things further tonight was dashed, but a blowjob from Troy is nothing to turn my nose up at. We lie silently for a few minutes before Troy reaches for his boxers.

  “Don’t.” I grab his hand, and he glances at me, surprised. “Do you trust me, Troy?” I ask softly.

  His gaze becomes cautious. “Yes.”

  “I’d never do anything to hurt you.” He blinks and looks away.

  “I know that.”

  “Please, just let me try to help. If it’s too much for you, I’ll stop.” He can’t go on this way, always trying to hide.

  “What do you want me to do?” he whispers, fear evident in those wide brown eyes.

  “I just want you to relax.” I reach over to the nightstand and select his favorite slow playlist on the iPod docked in the speaker. “All you have to do is tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” Fearful eyes settle on mine, and he nods, resigned. His lips twist into a grimace when I pull his shirt off over his head, and I’m tempted to stop, but he needs this.

  “Look at me.” We sit side by side, our shoulders touching. “It’s just the two of us, love. You’re safe.” I stroke his face, my eyes never leaving his, and the pain reflected there makes my heart ache. He tilts his head and presses his cheek into my hand, his stubble rasping against my palm.

  “Relax. This isn’t about sex,” I whisper. “I just want to touch you.” His eyes widen, but he nods, biting his lip. The scent of vanilla fills the room as I coat my hands in lotion, and softly massage his chest. He sighs when my fingers follow the path of dark hair that grows across his chest and down his abdomen, thinning into a happy trail. This is the easy part. It’s only where his body is scarred that he can’t bear to be touched. His back, his thighs, and his behind have all been off limits.

  “Breathe. Close your eyes and listen to the music. Feel my hands on you,” I murmur, slowly shifting to face him. “Try to let it go.” When I lightly brush my lips across the frown lines on his forehead, his eyelids flutter in response.

  My hands slide slowly around to his lower back, spreading the sweet smelling lotion over his skin and the raised scars that cause him so much anguish. I pause when he gasps and his muscles tighten. His jaw is clenched, his teeth gritted, and the look of agony on his face is heartbreaking. My poor broken boy. What I would give to undo the abuse he’s suffered.

  Keeping my hands against his lower back, I murmur, “It’s okay. I’m with you. I’m right here. Just relax and breathe. Focus on the music. Don’t think, just feel.” I work my way up from his lower back to his shoulders, murmuring comforting words, telling him how sexy he is, how much I love to touch him. When I plant a light kiss on his shoulder, he falls apart, his face crumples and his body shakes with sobs. Shit. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. The last thing I want is to hurt him.

  I’ve never seen him cry. Not once in the ten months since our escape from the cult. I didn’t intend to make him so upset, but I think he needs this. He needs to grieve. “I’ve got you, honey. It’s all right, let it happen,” I croon, embracing him. He sobs on my shoulder, his arms tight around my neck. We cling to one another as all the fear and pain he has tried so hard to repress pours out of him.

  After a few minutes, he pulls away and mutters, “I’m sorry.”

  “You have no reason to be sorry. I’m sorry I pushed you too far. The last thing I want is to hurt you. It was too much.” Holding him as if he may float away, I weave my fingers through his soft hair. “I thought if you could relax, if I could make it feel good, maybe you wouldn’t be afraid. Forgive me. We don’t have to do this again.” I kiss his warm damp temple.

  He shakes his head and stares at me with red rimmed eyes. “It does feel good. You have no idea how bad I wan
t you to touch me, Joseph.” The bottle of lotion is thrust into my hands, and my eyes tear up as he lies face down on the bed. I’m overwhelmed by the trust he has in me.

  Desperate to put him at ease, I begin at his feet, paying special attention to them since he loves a good foot massage. He groans when my thumbs run firmly up and down his arch. “Feels good, Angel,” he mumbles. I work my way slowly up his calves, kneading and rubbing.

  “Do you want me to stop?” I ask quietly when I reach the first of the scars on his thigh. I don’t want to make him cry again.

  “No.” He tenses, but not nearly as much as the first time.

  “Just tell me to stop,” I remind him. Soft moans and sighs reassure me he’s okay, while I caress every inch of him, my hands traveling from his thighs to his behind, where I can’t resist a gentle squeeze.

  “Mmm,” he hums.

  “You have a fantastic ass,” I breathe, and dip my head to softly kiss each cheek. A shiver runs through him when I stroke his back from his shoulders to his waist, tracing the thin white lines with my fingers, and then my lips. He has a good body, and it hurts to see it so marred by the torture he endured. Lying beside him, I press my body against his and glide my hand slowly down his spine. “You have a wonderful body. Please don’t hide it from me any longer,” I whisper.

  He turns toward me with a grin on his face, and chuckles. “Micah would have told you not to bullshit a bullshitter.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet him.”

  “Me too.”

  I pull him over to lie on my chest and we both drift off.

  * * * *

  Abby

  “It’s so beautiful out here.” My nose fills with the wonderful scent of the forest after a light rain. Trees bursting with color shower us with red-gold leaves.

  “Are you warm enough?” Airen asks, dragging a wide flat-bottomed boat into the lake. Water, murky from the recent rain shower slaps against the sides.

  “I’m fine.” I’m happy to be out of the house and spending some time alone with my husband. We have both been so busy and I’ve really missed him. Airen has been preoccupied with the harvest, and I’ve been buried up to my armpits in canning jars. All the cooking and boiling in the past two weeks has turned my kitchen into my own personal steam room. Wonderful for the skin, but my hair remains a frizzy mess.

  When Joseph volunteered to watch Lane for a few hours, we jumped at the opportunity to spend the afternoon together. Airen rows the boat away from the shore, his biceps flexing under his long sleeve shirt. Once we’re out far enough, he pulls in the oars and produces a blanket and a thermos from his bag. He settles himself on the floor of the boat and leans against the seat.

  “Come sit with me.” Holding his hand for balance, I carefully step toward him, gasping when he tugs me forward, and catches me with a grin.

  “Airen! I’m too heavy.” I giggle as he shifts me onto his lap.

  He snorts. “I’ve caught catfish that weigh more than you.” He wraps us in the blanket and I snuggle against his chest. He’s so warm.

  “This is nice,” I murmur. “What’s in the thermos?”

  “Hot chocolate, just in case you get chilly.”

  “You made hot chocolate?” Airen is skilled at many things, but he isn’t exactly handy in the kitchen.

  “Joseph made it,” he admits with a chuckle. “I also have this if you want something a little stronger.” A pint of cinnamon schnapps dances teasingly in front of my face.

  “Will you have a drink with me?”

  “If you insist.” His lips wrap around the bottle and he takes a long swallow before handing it to me.

  “Yuck, you got it all spitty,” I tease, wiping the lip of the bottle and taking a sip.

  “I’ll get you all spitty,” he growls. A wave of warmth radiates from my core as he takes my lips in a slow, open mouthed kiss, licking my top lip and sliding his tongue to caress mine. He tastes so sweet. A cinnamon flavored Airen.

  “You taste good,” I murmur. I’m suddenly awash in fantasies of making love to Airen on a boat in the middle of the lake. Sliding a hand down to cup my ass, he kisses me again, and I moan, “You know I can’t…” But, oh fuck, I want to.

  “Relax, darlin’. I know it’s shark week.” He rests his chin on my head.

  “Classy way to put it,” I reply dryly before taking another drink. “Why did you want to come out here?”

  “Isn’t it possible, Miss Suspicious, that I just wanted to snuggle up with my wife in a romantic setting with no ulterior motives whatsoever?” He looks as if he never had a devious thought in his life. Now I know he’s up to something.

  “I suppose it’s possible.”

  “Of course, now that I have you trapped in the middle of a lake, you can’t avoid me when I ask what’s been bothering you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on, darlin’. Something is on your mind. Out with it,” he demands softly.

  “You lured me out here under false pretenses.” I pout.

  “Don’t be silly. I want to be alone with you, but you’ve been in your own little world lately.” He pulls me close and plants a light kiss on my forehead. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  It seems I can’t hide anything from him anymore. He sees right into me. “It’s no big deal. I was just thinking about what Carson said about having family we don’t know about. It makes me wonder if Brandon survived.”

  “Your brother?” he asks, stroking my hair while my head rests against his chest.

  “Mmm Hmm. We weren’t close, but I’d like to know if he’s still alive. It’s pointless to think about though. I could never find him if he is, and he wouldn’t know where to look for me either. I doubt anyone stayed at their same address after the plague was over.”

  “That’s true, but it’s not impossible. Carson feels the same way about his father.”

  “You’re his father.”

  His arms tighten around me. “I always will be, sweetheart, but you can’t blame him for wanting to know who he came from. He doesn’t even have a picture.”

  “I know,” I whisper. He doesn’t understand. He has no idea what Jon is like. I’d hate for Carson to find out what kind of person he comes from. I know how it feels to be related to terrible people, to feel like you are polluted by the blood you share. “Would you want to find your biological father?” I have a feeling that’s what this is really about.

  “That would be impossible given the only information I have about him is his hair color and former job.”

  “But if you could find him?”

  “Yes,” he admits. “I’d like to meet him.” His gaze is pensive as he wonders about his unknown father who blessed him with those devastating eyes and charcoal hair.

  “He must be gorgeous,” I muse aloud.

  “Well, that goes without saying.” He chuckles and tickles my ribs.

  “Airen!” The small boat rocks as I sit up abruptly and point toward the far side of the lake. A small glow is visible through the trees, and a thin trail of smoke winds upward before it’s swept away in the breeze. “Look! Someone must have a campfire.” Airen’s face hardens instantly, and he drops the oars into the water, rowing furiously toward the shore opposite the fire.

  “Don’t you want to go see?”

  He glances at me as if I may have been shaken as a baby. “Do I want to walk my wife, unarmed, into a potentially dangerous group of people? No. I’m taking you home. I’ll grab the guys and we’ll check it out.”

  “Well, you don’t have to be so huffy about it.”

  “Sorry,” he mumbles. We drag the boat onto the shore and head back through the woods toward home. Airen hauls ass through the woods, moving like a freight train, while I struggle to keep up.

  “Air, please slow down,” I pant, my hand massaging the stitch in my side. Damn, I’m out of shape.

  “What?” He stares at me as if he just got jerked out of a dead sleep. “Oh, Abby, I�
�m sorry.” His pace slows, but his eyes dart nervously.

  “We’re okay. It’s not like someone is chasing us. Calm down.” His fingers wrap around mine as he nods. We’re nearly home. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack, Mr. Overprotective,” I tease.

  “You are going to give me a heart attack, Miss Let’s-Prance-Into-A-Crowd-Of-Strangers-To- Say-Hi.”

  “I need a little crazy to balance out yours.” I smile at my neurotic man, and he grins back at me.

  “I’m sorry our romantic afternoon got interrupted.”

  “It was fun, but next time I want you naked and on top of me.”

  Heat flashes through his raven eyes, and his lip curls in a sexy half smile as he replies, “Until you beg for mercy, or we rock the boat to pieces.”

  Eric, Troy, and Joseph accompany Airen to investigate the source of the fire, and the wait for their response is interminable. As much as we want to meet new people, it’s terrifying. Especially since we haven’t had the best of luck in the past. Finally, after an hour or so, the radio blares, and Joseph’s voice echoes through the speaker.

  “Abby?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Everything is fine. Two women are camping at the end of Fall Church Road. Do you know where that is?”

  “Yes.” I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Would you and the kids come down and meet us? They’re understandably reluctant to follow four men into the woods.” I can hear the grin in his voice.

  “Of course.” Julie and I gather the kids and we head to meet the new people.

  Two women glance at us nervously while we climb out of the car, and I smile, hoisting Lane higher on my hip. “Hi, I’m Abby.”

  A dark haired girl steps forward, offering her hand with a nervous smile. “My name’s Lexi, and this is Emma.”