by Becca Lee
My eyes focused on his back and the artwork across his skin. I’d had reservations when he’d got himself inked a few years back. The thought of a wrinkly tattoo on an old bloke made me scrunch my nose, but he’d explained, “Babe, you know it’s the time and the memory that counts, that matters. This is about us, you and me, and our future together. We’ve survived the unimaginable and will keep focused and strong. This is about loving and cherishing the moment. It’s all us, babe.”
I knew he had meant every word, and there was no way I could argue a syllable of it. Every time I saw even a hint of his ink, which spread across his back and covered his right shoulder and bicep, I melted a little more inside.
I kissed a patch of it on his shoulder blade when I stopped behind him. He turned around, shaking his wet hands in the sink and held me back. My arms were securely around his waist. “I love you.” I stood on my tiptoes and strained for a kiss. He scooped down to find my lips, pulled away slightly, and pressed his forehead against mine.
“You too, babe. Love you, too.”
I smiled, pinched his arse, and pulled away. “I’m going to go and take a nanna-nap. You off out?”
Nodding, he answered, “Yep.” A shadow passed over his eyes, a look of concern I was never happy to see. Within a moment, it had vanished and a large smile appeared instead. “I’m going to take her out for a test ride. I may stop off and see Craig and Kevin while I’m out.”
I rolled my eyes. “May, huh?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t caught up since the wedding, and I barely said more than a few sentences to them that day.”
I raised a brow. “Sorry, did you want to spend time with your boys on our wedding day?” I laughed.
“Yeah, right.” He stepped toward me. “There was no chance of that. Not with you looking so damn hot.”
Grinning, I welcomed his lips. This man of mine regularly screwed up, was known to say the wrong bloody thing, but then he’d go and say everything right. Planting one last kiss on his lips, I stepped back. “Okay, babe. Just take it easy, and say hi to the boys for me. Can you pick up a takeout on your way home, too, please?”
“Sure thing.” He headed through the hallway toward the store cupboard to collect his jacket and helmet. I considered watching and waving him off, but thought better of it. Every time he sat astride his bike, I couldn’t help it; I melted into a hot sticky puddle of need. Liam would be finding out just how sticky when he returned. And while I had a glorious, glittery B.O.B., one of my bizarre pre-wedding gifts from Ella, I preferred to use that little beauty when Liam was operating it rather than by myself.
I smiled at the thought and headed to bed. With my list sorted, and knowing I was going to make an appointment to see the GP on Monday, I enjoyed the extra bounce in my step as I made my way down the hall. Sometimes life could be pretty darn perfect.
Chapter Four
Liam
.
I never got enough of the feel of riding my bike. The adrenaline rush was instant, the freedom immediate. It was exactly what I needed before I met Mace. I was far from looking forward to the meeting, but it was something I couldn’t avoid. In fact, it needed to be done.
When I had headed outside to work on my bike, I’d veered off to collect the mail first. I had not liked what I’d discovered. Without hesitation, I immediately got on the phone to my brother, and he’d agreed to meet with me a few hours later. Test riding my bike was the perfect excuse. The last thing I wanted to do was worry Jo. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my discovery a secret for long, but my plan, if you could call it that, was to contain the potential shit, so at least I could offer reassurance when I broke the news to her.
We agreed to meet in a bar, a place a good forty kilometres away from mine. There were too many nosey bastards around locally, who not only knew me, but also most definitely knew Simon, or Mace as most referred to him. Our surname, Mason, didn’t leave much room for the imagination.
Sitting on the bar stool, I yawned, stretching my arms high and then back before returning to my bottle of Pure Blonde. Taking a deep pull, I set it back on the bar and rubbed my hand over my face. I was wrecked. I’d barely slept over the last couple of weeks, and with the letter I’d discovered in our mailbox that morning, combined with Jo and the baby, plus the crap at work with McKenny, my brain was in overdrive. In literally a few hours, life had become a hell of a lot more complicated, and damn if I knew how to handle the potential shitstorm heading my way.
I heard the stool pull out next to me, the spot filled by a body bigger than my own. Looking to the side, a spray of colour greeted me, a multitude of bold designs inked to perfection, art that rivalled my own which lay hidden beneath my t-shirt.
“Shit, brother,” his rough voice greeted me. His fingers rapped on the bar and I saw a slight nod, indicating another round. “Do you need something stronger?”
Angling myself toward Mace, a ghost of a smile hovered over my lips before I lifted my bottle to my mouth and finished it off. “No. I’m good, thanks.”
“Sure thing.” He reached out and took hold of his fresh bottle before he continued. “So, you want to tell me what’s going on? Why’d you call me?”
One thing I could guarantee with Mace was he always cut to the chase. No bullshit, no pretty words; he simply said whatever needed to be said, and sometimes shit that didn’t need to be said, too. I hadn’t seen him in over a year. A goddamn year, yet he’d dropped everything with a simple phone call. He was loyal to a fault, in his own way. I almost laughed at my direction of thought. The word loyalty parading its way around in my head mocking me, scoffing at me and flashing its tits at me in the process.
“Jo’s pregnant.” I flicked a glance in his direction, looking for a reaction, still not sure what it would be exactly.
Turning his head toward me, his green eyes, the mirror of mine, held my gaze. Tilting his bottle toward me, his face remained impassive. “Congratulations, brother. That good news?”
He held still waiting for my response. I sighed, breaking eye contact. Rubbing my face once again, feeling older than my thirty years, I gave a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, it is.” I turned back to face him. “It’s the best thing ever. Jo is freaking the shit out.” He quirked his brow, indicating what I assumed to be a challenge to my own reaction. I gave a genuine laugh at his expression, immediately feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. “What? I’m not, any more. It really is the best thing ever. I’m going to be a dad.” Dad. My heart constricted at the thought before it seemed to swell at the strange emotion. “Can you believe it?”
I knew I was grinning like a fool. Ever since I’d scooped myself up from the floor after I tripped on something in the bedroom—the story I was sticking with—I’d finally reached a place where I wanted to puff out my chest and beat it caveman-style while telling everyone about my super sperm.
“Huh, so I heard the wedding went without a hitch. Apparently, it went really well.” He laughed before he gulped from his bottle. “It’s good, Liam. I’m pleased for you.” His smile fell, his blank expression once again firmly in place. “So, other than you calling in Lane a few weeks back for a favour, when you know you should have called me, but that’s shit I’m willing to forget, I repeat, why’d you call me?”
And that was the crux of it all. I hadn’t wanted to call Mace. For a big brother, we’d had a shitty rollercoaster ride of it over the years, and if Jo knew I’d called him, she’d be pissed as hell. Shit, pissed wouldn’t even cover the world of pain I knew she’d throw at me, but I had no idea what else I could do.
Over the last few years, I’d managed pretty much on my own, or rather, it was just Jo and me. We’d been inseparable and it worked. It really was as simple as that. She was the other half of my soul; we connected and fitted together perfectly. But perfectly was not to be confused with perfect. We fought up a storm at times, and drove each other to distraction, but for the last three years especially, it had been just the two of us. I almost t
agged on the addition of her crazy family and Ella, who were amazing and always there for both of us, but it was Jo and I who had to work every day at not allowing the past to swallow us whole. Somehow, we’d managed to do that together, and damn if that didn’t make me love her even more.
Seven years ago, I had walked away from my family, or most of them, and tried not to look back. I’d also been foolish enough to let Jo leave me. It wasn’t until three years later that we reconnected, and thank Christ we did. Three years was long enough without her in my life for real. We’d been in touch the whole time, even slept together, but it took her that long to truly deal with the damage of three years earlier. Mace and I had been in touch when we needed to be, but it tended to be about the business. Some things were still too painful. But I had since reached the point when the shit was going to hit the fan, and that fucker was on full-speed and was about to shower us with so much crap, I didn’t know if I’d ever come out on the other side clean. My only solution was Mace. My brother, who’d always had my back when it mattered, had, however, managed to let me down in the worst possible way. He owed me, owed Jo, and it was time to call him out to make good on what he and I were unable to make right seven bloody years ago.
I reached behind me and pulled out the folded piece of paper from my jeans pocket. Concentrating hard not to allow my hand to shake, I passed it to Mace. “Did you know?” My voice was low, sad. I hoped to God that his answer was no. The thought of the alternative was too much. There’d be no recovery from it.
A deep frown sat between his brows as he reached for the paper and unfolded it. His eyes moved over the page, scanning each word, taking in each line. I saw his muscles bunch and tense under his black t-shirt and his jaw clench tightly. I released the breath I hadn’t realised I had been holding. He hadn’t known.
“When did this arrive?”
“This morning. I recognised the handwriting.”
“Has Jo seen this?”
“Of course not,” I snapped. “Shit, Mace, she’s pregnant. We should be celebrating. What the hell do you think his letter would do to her? Shit.” I slammed the palm of my hand down hard on the bar. A heaviness settled in my stomach. I had no idea how I’d managed to keep my crap together since discovering the damn thing. It was just after lunch and only now with the harsh reality of Mace recognising the letter for what it was, did I begin to feel the rage burning in my gut.
“I’ll take care of it.”
My fists were white, balled tightly.
“I said I’ll take care of it. Give me until tomorrow to check around. In the meantime, get to the gym or some shit. You can’t see Jo in the state you’re in.” He stood to leave, throwing twenty dollars on the bar. “And lay off the throttle of that Italian shit outside.”
I somehow managed a laugh. “Okay, brother. Leave my second love alone, okay?”
He tilted his head and clutched my shoulder. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
I nodded and watched him leave, helmet tucked under his arm. I stood and looked at my phone, relieved there were no missed calls. I picked up my own helmet and left by the same exit. Sometime in the gym didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.
Stomachs filled with steak and sausages, it was almost time to leave the in-laws, which meant it was almost time to share our good news. Jo had convinced me, without too much trouble, to wait ‘til just before we left. She’d mumbled something about wanting to make a quick escape and the horror of VHS movies. I had no idea what she was talking about, but knowing her folks, it would be something bizarre and inappropriate no doubt, so I was all for her plan.
Jo had asked me a few times over the couple of hours we’d been at her parents’ if I was okay. I tried my hardest to shrug off the waiting game I was playing for Mace’s call, but apparently, Jo was too bloody good at reading me. I reassured her as best I could, blaming work and telling her parents. Her raised brows and pursed lips were enough to tell me she knew I was full of it.
“So, Mum, Dad, we’re heading home in a bit.” Jo looked at me, and I immediately walked in her direction, stood by her side and held her hand.
Her parents paused, mid-conversation with Ella’s parents, and looked our way.
“Erm…yeah, so before we go, I need to tell you that, erm…well, while we were away, I was sick and Liam, well, I was on the pi…erm… I didn—”
I interrupted her verbal diarrhoea before she could continue. “Great news. You’re going to be grandparents.” I kissed the top of Jo’s head. She turned and looked at me, smiling her thanks.
Kate, Jo’s mum, jumped out of her chair, squealing, “I knew it. Didn’t I say, Anne? Oh, my goodness, my baby girl is going to be a mum.” She threw her arms around Jo, a wide grin on her face. Pulling back, I saw her eyes glistening.
I never understood women and all their bloody tears. It clearly didn’t matter what age a woman was, yet tears would flow at the weirdest of times. I just didn’t get how you could cry when you were happy. I’d been happy plenty of times, goddamn ecstatic even, but never had it brought me to tears.
Collin joined the hugging party and shook my hand, pulling me in for a pat on my back. “Good job, son. This is great news.”
I grinned. “Thanks, Collin. It really is the best.”
Ella’s parents soon joined in with their congratulations. I couldn’t help but feel good and a sense of pride. Their genuine happiness was infectious.
“Collin, there’s a bottle of champagne in the fridge. This calls for a celebration.”
“Hell yeah,” Ella found her voice.
“You’re driving, El, remember?” Preston interrupted. Ella frowned and turned to look at Preston.
He was a braver man than me. I knew how crazy Ella was when it came to champagne.
“Sorry.” Preston raised his hands in front of him and backed away. “I’ve had too many beers now. You did offer.”
Ella huffed. I laughed at their antics. No doubt she’d make him pay for it later somehow.
“It’s okay, Mum. Maybe another time. We really need to head home,” Jo said.
Kate frowned. "Oh, okay. We were going to get that old VHS out. You know the one wher—”
“No!” Jo, Ella and Preston all called out in unison.
I dreaded to think what had them so rattled. Whatever it was, I had no desire to discover what was on that VHS.
Jo coughed back the squeak in her voice. “Honestly, Mum, no thanks. I’m tired. I’m still suffering with sickness and need to go. I could do with an afternoon nap. I have a full-on schedule at work next week.” Jo stepped toward Kate, hugged her close and kissed her cheek.
Kate looked mildly placated. Her frown of disappointment had turned to one of concern. “No worries, baby girl. I remember how exhausting it was. Just be sure to keep hydrated, especially in this stinking heat.”
Turning to me, I saw Jo’s relief. We swiftly said our goodbyes and headed out to the car, Jo virtually shoving me the whole way, overeager to get away.
Once home, I asked Jo what was on the VHS. The temptation was too much. I had to find out.
“Honestly, Liam, you do not want to know. I promise. Just erase the thought from your mind. Hopefully, if we never mention it, Mum and Dad will forget to bring it up again.” She shuddered dramatically.
I smiled at her as she kissed me, heading toward our bedroom. There was no doubt about it. Her family were batshit crazy.
With Jo in bed for a nap, I pulled a stubby from the fridge, twisted the cap, and drank my fill. I was still waiting for the call from Mace. I knew there was no point calling him; he would ring as soon as he knew more. Instead, I distracted myself by heading into our office, which was one of our spare bedrooms we’d set up as a decent office workspace.
An hour later, knee-deep in research, my phone rang. Standing, I answered on the first ring, briefly looking at the front of my phone, confirming it was Mace.
“What have you heard?” I was too agitated for formalities. No one more than Mace wou
ld understand that.
“It’s not good, brother. It’s true. In six weeks, he’ll be out.”
My gut clenched, a deep throb travelling quickly up my neck as I gripped my phone. It took all the willpower I had not to throw my phone and shout in rage. Jo was just two rooms away. I had to keep my shit together. “Fuck.” My voice was tight, controlled, not at all reflecting the burning anger rushing through my body.
The pain, the fury, the goddamn heartache from seven years ago, hit me full force. I sat back down, pushed my chair away from my desk, and lowered my head between my knees. Breathe. I needed to breathe and not explode. Nausea swirled in my gut, mixing with my burning hatred for a man who is going to be released from prison in six weeks’ time.
“You need to keep it together, Liam. Do not lose it. Jo will need you to keep your head.”
“Don’t dare tell me what Jo will need. I know what she’ll need. She’s my fucking wife.” I didn’t even try to keep the venom, the frustration, from my voice. The calm from a moment earlier was already slipping.
There was a pause before Mace spoke, his voice low. “I know you’re hurting and I know you’re pissed, brother. But I mean it. Keep your shit together.”
He was right. I had known this day would come, but hell, I was not expecting it so soon. How in the hell could a nine-year sentence be cut to seven? Nine was too short, but this? It was ludicrous, a goddamn mockery and piss take.
Mace continued. “I don’t have any more details yet, other than it’s a definite, as long as he doesn’t screw it up on the inside.”
I sat up, an idea forming. “Anything you can do about that?” All he needed to do was screw up over the next six weeks and he’d have to continue to serve time. I needed this to happen.
“Maybe. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Mace.”
“Don’t…don’t thank me. I don’t want him out as much as you, but don’t thank me.” His voice trailed to barely above a whisper.