by Annie Rains
“Hi,” she said. “It’s you.”
He reached for the book of memories that Val had made her and flipped to the front page, pointing to his picture. “Griffin. Your son.”
“Of course you are.” His mother smiled back at him. Her eyes were clear, the same color as his, even though they weren’t his eyes. He didn’t know his real mother, and he wasn’t the kind to go looking for someone who gave him up—he was sure his birth mother had her reasons for letting him go. He was the type, however, to come begging forgiveness from the one who took him in, fought for him, and loved him like he was never anything but her real son.
“You remember me?” he asked, leaning forward and hoping it was true. Alzheimer’s patients had moments of clarity. He knew that.
“Griffin,” she whispered. “My Griffin. You’ve come home to me.”
He reached for her hand and squeezed, noting the tremble of his own flesh. He had so much he wanted to say to this woman, but there wasn’t enough time. He was sure of that. What had the doctors told him when he’d asked? That a moment of clarity might only last a few minutes, or less. “I love you, Mom. I’ve always loved you.” He swallowed past the bubbling emotion. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”
He tipped his head and kissed her hand in his. She pulled it away after a moment and stroked his hair. Then she began to hum. Louise had told him his mother was humming lately—a tune that Louise couldn’t place.
But he could.
He looked up, meeting his mother’s eyes. She was humming a song she’d sung to him every night before bed when he was a child.
You are my sunshine,
You are my heart,
You are my everything,
We’ll never be apart.
After she sang the song, she would always lean in and whisper in his ear, just as he was about to fall asleep, “You’re the best little boy in the world, Griffin. Because you’re mine.”
A tear dripped from his eye. He swiped it away with the back of his hand, aware that the clock was ticking cruelly. But he’d told her he loved her and that he was sorry. That was all he needed to say.
His mother kept her focus on him, loving him with her eyes and her smile. “You’re the best little boy in the world, because you’re mine,” she whispered softly.
Her words nearly broke him in half.
“I love you, Griffin. I love you,” she said.
“Love you, too, Mom,” he said as his throat and chest constricted tightly. “I’m sorry,” he said again. He could never say it enough.
“Don’t apologize. There was never anything to forgive. Never ever.” She squeezed his hand one more time, and then turned her gaze and glanced around the room. He watched her smile fade to confusion, drip to agitation and upset. He knew when she looked at him again, she wouldn’t recognize him anymore.
“Mom?” He swallowed hard. Sometimes reality hurt like a bullet. He stood and kissed her forehead quickly. “You’re the best mother in the world, because you’re mine,” he whispered in her ear. Then he straightened and hit the nurse’s call button.
Slipping out of his mother’s room, he started down the hall to leave. After the moment they’d just had, he didn’t want to end the night by having his mother become upset about his presence.
A smile crossed his face as he walked away. His mother had remembered him tonight, and she’d forgiven him. It’d been her; he knew it had. The look in her eyes had been the same as his entire life growing up. He felt like punching a fist in the air. Like taking an endless ride on his motorcycle with the wind in his face. Like going to see Val.
Even though it was late—Louise had allowed him to stay in his mother’s room past visiting hours—he got behind the wheel and headed to do just that, because Val was the only one who would understand how much tonight had meant to him. And she was the only one he wanted to see right now.
Chapter 21
Val startled awake at a knock on her front door. She was on the couch and the girls had left an hour ago.
The knock on her door pounded again. Single women should never answer the door after nine, her father had always said. Ignoring his advice, as she usually did, she walked to the door and glanced through the peephole.
She returned from her tiptoes to flat feet and placed a hand over her heart. No. No, no, no. She couldn’t handle seeing Griffin right now. Not after figuring out that she was in love with him. She needed time to think about what she was going to do. To catch her breath. To…
The knock pounded again.
“Val, it’s me. Open up. I have to tell you something. Val?”
She shook her head and the swimming feeling that alcohol sometimes gave her made her sway on her feet.
“Val”—he lowered his voice—“I know you’re standing right behind the door. I heard the floor squeak under your feet. You should really fix that loose board.”
She looked down at her feet on the old, wood floor of her apartment and sighed. She was being silly. Nothing had changed between them. Not really, she told herself. “Hold on. Just a second.” She sucked in a breath and opened the door.
Griffin was standing there, smiling that smile that made her knees wobble. It was no wonder she’d submitted to his charms this summer. It was as if he’d walked straight off the page of one of her romance novels and into her arms.
“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” he asked.
“A little. But not alone. Kat and Julie were here earlier.” She was talking quickly. “They’re gone now, though.”
And I love you.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Good. Because I want you all to myself.” His lips brushed against hers and she melted against him. The soft stubble on his cheeks aroused her senses. So did the spot of cologne he wore on the side of his neck. She wanted to bury her head there and breathe him in.
I love you, Griffin.
She shook her head and pulled away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes darkening.
“Nothing. It’s just, you know, I have margarita breath. I don’t want to scare you away.”
“You couldn’t if you tried.” He moved toward her and anchored his hands on her waist, pulling her to him. “Val, something wonderful happened tonight. My mother remembered me.”
Val’s mouth fell open. “What? Helen remembered you? Griffin, that’s amazing! What happened?”
“Well, her clarity was brief and then she forgot who I was again. But, Val, she said my name. She said she loved me and then she forgave me.” He locked his gaze on hers. “And you’re the only person I wanted to share this with.” He kissed her again.
“Griffin,” she breathed, loving the kiss and him. She bunched his shirt in her hands, clinging to him because after she’d promised herself she’d let go at the end of the summer, she didn’t want to anymore. She wanted to hold on tight, forever.
“I like the taste of margaritas on your mouth,” he said. His tongue tangled with hers as he deepened the kiss. Val’s hands clutched his body needily, pulling him flush against her. He was a big, strong Marine, though. If he didn’t want to move, he wouldn’t. She gasped as she felt the hard swell at the front of his jeans.
“Fine,” she breathed. “You win.” She slammed a playful hand against his chest.
A look of confusion swept over his dark features. “Win what?”
“I’ll give you half the roses in my vase to do with what you please.”
Heat scorched his brown eyes. Then he walked to the vase, grabbed six of the roses, and pulled her into the bedroom to undo her with another sexual fantasy.
—
Griffin awoke to the first scattering of morning light. He was in Val’s bed. And there were rose petals stuck to his cheek.
Val snuggled against him, warm and naked.
He smoothed a hand down her silky body, loving the way she felt beside him. “Val. Hey.”
“Hmmm?” She smiled dreamily, but her eyes were closed.
“
So beautiful,” he whispered, slipping his arm out from underneath her.
“Where are you going?” Her eyes cracked open, focusing in on him.
“I need to go check on Trooper.”
“Oh. Right.” She blinked, seeming to realize where she was and what had led her to this point in time with him.
He pulled a petal from her hair. “Last night was fun. Your turn to come up with the next fantasy.”
“Eventually we’ll run out.”
Griffin kissed her cheek. “Then we’ll have to start all over.”
Her expression turned serious. “You make this sound like a long-term thing.”
He looked at her as he pulled on his jeans and T-shirt. “I like spending time with you. I don’t want things to end between us today.” Or tomorrow even. He wanted to ride this out and see what happened, but he wasn’t sure that Val felt the same way. “Is that okay with you?”
She looked down at the covers draped over her body. “I like spending time with you, too. Every moment with you is wonderful.”
“Good.” He leaned forward and kissed her.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” she said, starting to get up.
“No, you stay here and go back to sleep. Enjoy your summer vacation while you still can.”
She ran a hand through her own hair. “Right. Two weeks until I report back to my desk. Will I see you later?” she asked.
“Do you want to see me later?”
She tilted her head. “Of course I do.”
“Then you’ll see me. I need to stop by and see Mom first. Maybe when I come, I’ll bring Trooper to visit with”—he cleared his throat—“that puppy you’re taking care of.”
Val laughed. The sound stirred desire and need inside him. “Are you ever going to say Sweet Cheeks’s name?”
He shook his head. “That’s a negative.” He kissed her again. “See you later.” Then he headed out the front door and got on his bike, noticing a blue Oldsmobile parked on the roadside between Val’s and her neighbor’s mailboxes. There was an older man inside, sitting upright, and watching Val’s door.
Griffin donned his helmet, pretty sure he knew exactly who the man was even though he’d never officially met him. Preacher Hunt visited the residents of the nursing home often. He’d visited Griffin’s mother a few times, too. Right now, the good preacher was planning on visiting Val, and he’d seen Griffin exiting her front door at sunrise. Damn. His gut instinct was to stay and protect her, but Preacher Hunt was her father. Val would probably prefer to deal with this on her own.
So, against his protective nature, Griffin turned out of her driveway and sped home to take care of Trooper.
—
Val stirred under the covers and groaned as the doorbell rang. Griffin must’ve left something inside. She pulled on an oversized T-shirt and shuffled down the hall toward the door, pulling it open and expecting to see the man who’d sexed her socks off last night.
Instead, her father frowned at her. He stepped past her, entering her apartment and heading to the couch with Sweet Cheeks nipping at his heels.
“I’ll wait for you to get dressed,” her father said with a stern tone to his voice.
Val looked down at her scantily clothed body, shut the front door, and nodded. “Okay. I’ll be back in just a minute.”
Dread knotted her stomach as she headed to her bedroom. She found her jeans and knit blouse from last night and pulled it over her head. Then she ran a brush through her tousled bedhead.
Had her father seen Griffin leaving a few minutes ago? Val glanced at the clock. It was seven A.M. A man leaving at this hour meant he’d most likely spent the night. No denying that if her father asked. Besides, she was thirty years old, her own woman. Who cared what her father thought?
Who am I kidding? I care.
“Can I get you some coffee, Dad?” she asked, putting on a happy face and walking back into the kitchen.
“That would be great,” he said, sitting upright on her sofa. The relaxed composure he’d achieved at dinner the other night was gone.
Val busied herself starting the pot. “So what brings you here so early in the morning?” she asked.
“I had business in town,” he said, clasping his hands in his lap.
Val joined him in the living room as she waited for the coffee to brew. “Early business,” she said, wanting to keep the subject off her. It was none of her father’s business who was leaving her home in the morning.
Her father looked up. “I was at Seaside Harbor nursing home.”
A prickle of knowing slithered up her spine. “Oh.” Sweet Cheeks jumped in her lap as she sat, and her hand immediately went to smoothing the dog’s silky coat. She didn’t want to ask. Suddenly she preferred to talk to her father about screwing Griffin all night long. Going to the nursing home during off-hours meant something was wrong. “Who…?” She swallowed, unable to finish the question.
“Alma Edwards died early this morning,” he said matter-of-factly.
Val’s hand froze along Sweet Cheeks’s back. She swallowed and her lips pressed together tightly. “Oh, no.” Tears burned behind her eyes. Alma was dead.
“I thought you should know. I know she was in that book club of yours.”
Val nodded. Alma was more than just a member of her book club, though. Alma was her friend. “Thank you, Dad. I thought a lot of Alma.”
“I assume since you’re still on vacation that you’ll help the family with the funeral planning or whatever they need.”
“Of course I will.” A tear slipped down her cheek. Her father had always hated when she cried, so she got up to go pour their cups of coffee, working hard to press down her emotions, which were suddenly overtaking her. She hadn’t expected Alma to pass so soon. They hadn’t even finished reading the book club pick together.
“Here you go.” She handed her father a mug of coffee. “Just the way you like it. Cream and a spoonful of sugar.”
“Thank you.” He took it and sipped quietly. “I saw your visitor leave,” he said after a moment.
Val clutched her mug. Since hearing the news about Alma, she’d briefly forgotten about her visitor. “Oh.”
“If I saw you, other members of the church could have seen you as well. How do you think that projects on the church, Val?”
She shrugged. “I doubt anyone else saw, Dad.”
“That’s not the point. You have a responsibility as my daughter.”
Val narrowed her eyes. “Is that all you’re worried about? Your reputation? Not about my welfare or how I feel?” She shook her head, fighting back her tears. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”
“Val, you know I care about you. That man who left your home this morning didn’t look like the kind of man you should be having a relationship with. The fact that he stayed over proves that.”
“You’d rather I had kicked him out of my bed after the sex but before we fell asleep?” Val snapped.
Her father’s lips pursed. “I would rather he hadn’t been in your bed at all. A respectable man doesn’t take advantage of women.”
“Well, I’m used to disappointing you, so why stop now, Dad?” Val’s eyes burned above her mug of coffee as she took another sip. She should have spiked the coffee while she had a chance.
“Val”—her father lowered his voice and set his mug down—“all I’m trying to say is—”
“No, Dad. I don’t want to hear what you’re trying to say. I haven’t been able to put a sincere smile on your face since I was nine years old and Mom died. I can’t keep trying.” She stood. “I’m tired. I’m going back to bed, which you probably also disapprove of. I am so damn tired of trying to win your approval.”
“Valerie.”
She marched to her front door and opened it.
He hesitated, then nodded. “I know when I’m being asked to leave,” he said.
Val lifted her chin. “Thank you for letting me know about Alma. I’ll go over to Seaside Harbor later and see the st
aff. Then I’ll call Alma’s family and pay my respects.”
“Good.” Her father walked out onto the porch and left without another word or glance in her direction.
Val sucked in a breath and blew it out. She was tired of trying to help the situation between her and her father. Tired of trying to be someone she wasn’t. She wasn’t perfect—far from it. But she was a good person. She had friends who loved her. Alma had been one of those friends.
She headed back to her bedroom, plopped down in her bed, and waited to start the day over again. Sweet Cheeks hopped into the bed beside her. Val didn’t have the heart to tell the little puppy that her owner wasn’t coming back. Sweet Cheeks was an orphan now.
Val closed her eyes as tears streamed uncontrollably. “Don’t worry, Sweet Cheeks. We’ll be okay. I promise.” Sweet Cheeks wasn’t the only orphan. Val felt like she’d lost a parent today, too. The look in her father’s eyes as he’d left her home this morning haunted her. Griffin was wrong; there was no hope of repairing that relationship.
Chapter 22
Jaws tilted his head and looked at Griffin through the closed gate of his cage. His tail thumped the ground. Today’s training had gone almost perfectly, as usual—with the exception of the one slipup that Jaws always had. One slipup was too many.
Griffin tossed Jaws a treat, then headed inside the main building to collect his things and go home. When he thought of home, however, Val was the first thing to come to mind. He couldn’t wait to see her tonight.
“Hey, Griffin?”
Griffin turned toward Charlie Myer’s office. He approached the doorway. “Hey, Charlie. What’s up?”
Charlie turned from his desk. “Not much. Just checking on how things were going with you. Anything new?”
“Quiet days since the shooting at the commissary,” Griffin said. “I must be getting old because I actually like the quiet days now.”
Charlie chuckled. “It happens to the best of us. How’s Jaws doing?”
“Good,” Griffin lied, reliving Jaws’s premature attack on Troy the other day. “Fantastic.”