by Alison Kent
Oh, who was she kidding? Exhaustion had been her constant companion since Eddie’s accident over a year ago. She wasn’t cut out to be the peacemaker Cardin was. She was more the type to cut and run, and hadn’t even known it. All this time, she’d thought herself strong, a rock that could withstand anything.
But then she stepped into the living room she hadn’t seen in four months, and the emotional pummeling she’d taken this last year came at her in one big choking fist. She couldn’t draw a breath. She barely made it to the sofa before breaking down, burying her face in her hands.
She wanted to be left alone. She wanted to cry in peace. She wanted Eddie to hold her. She wanted to lay her head on his shoulder. The fact that her contradictions were the only things clear in her life had her laughing while she cried.
Eddie had been pacing in front of the sofa. At the sound of her hysterical gasps, he stopped. He tried to squat down in front of her, but his leg had him perching on the edge of the chair angled to the sofa. “You want a glass of water? A whiskey? A cup of tea?”
She shook her head, fell back and let the brown and blue plaid cushions swallow her. “I want my life back, Eddie Worth. That’s what I want. Can you do that for me?”
He got up to pace again, this time his limp more noticeable as it always was when he was stressed. “Our daughter’s going to marry Whip Davis, and you want me to give you back your life? Isn’t it Cardin’s life we should be trying to save?”
“Cardin’s made her choice, Eddie. Anything we might have done won’t do a bit of good now. She’s gone.”
“Goddammit, she is not gone,” he said, slamming the heel of his hand against the end of the fireplace mantel. The twelve frames holding Cardin’s school pictures didn’t even budge. “I’ve got to fix this. There’s got to be something I can do.”
“I tried to tell you to fix things four months ago.” The words were sharp, harsh, but she couldn’t stop them.
Both hands braced on the mantel, he hung his head, cursed beneath his breath. “So this is my fault, too? First my father doesn’t talk to me, then you leave, and now this with Cardin?”
“What’s the common denominator, Eddie?” she asked, this time more softly. “There’s only one thing I see.”
He shoved away from the fireplace. “And yet I’m the one with pins holding my leg together. The one who got slammed into the lube pit at Morgan and Son’s garage. The one lucky to have gone out of there in an ambulance and not a wagon from the morgue.”
“We all know that, Eddie. We all know exactly how bad things were.” She kicked off her espadrilles, tucking her legs up under her. “But you’re the only one who doesn’t seem to realize that they’ve gotten better.”
He cut a disbelieving gaze toward her. “Better?”
“Yes, better. You’re not dead, and even if you do have pins in your hip, you walk. You’re not in a wheelchair. Your limp’s barely noticeable most of the time.” She cut off his attempted interruption with a wave. “And, yes, I’m sure you still have pain. That you’ll always have pain. I hate that’s the way it is. I hate it more than you can imagine. But I don’t understand why you can’t be happy unless the rest of us are suffering, too.”
“Who said I’m happy? Or that I want anyone else to suffer?”
“Nobody has to say it. We can see it. And maybe you’re not happy. It’s just that you don’t seem quite as miserable when your misery has company.” Could he really not be aware of that? How he had brought everyone down with him? Or was he just beyond caring, so wrapped up in his own pain?
“You don’t understand,” he said tiredly, scrubbing both hands through his hair that was thick, longer than she’d seen it in awhile, and as black as their daughter’s.
She sat straighter, her elbow on the arm of the couch, her fingers gouging the fabric. “Then make me understand, Eddie. We’ve been together twenty-six years. You’ve always been able to make me understand.”
He gave a sarcastic snort, his boot heels clicking on the hard wood as he started pacing again. “I might be able to if I understood any of it myself.”
“Any of what?” she pressed, because this was farther than they’d come in a very long time, and she wasn’t going to give up on him now.
“Why this had to happen.”
Did he mean the accident? What had happened to their marriage? How his injury had changed him? Their daughter choosing a good man whose lifestyle would take her away from the only home she’d ever known? “I’m not sure what you’re getting at. Why what had to happen?”
He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I went to the garage that day because Alex called and told me things were getting heated between Aubrey and Dad.”
Delta hadn’t known about Alex Morgan’s phone call, or much of anything else. She was sitting in the same dark room as everyone else who wondered how the fight had started. “Then I would say the reason this happened is that you were doing your duty as a son.”
“I get that,” he told her. “What I don’t get is what went so wrong. What was going on between Dad and Aubrey that it got so out of hand? That Aubrey would strike a man of Dad’s age?”
“Aubrey had a lot of problems.”
“I don’t give a shit about Aubrey,” Eddie shot back. “I want to know why Dad won’t tell me. Why is it such a secret? Who is he protecting? If I’d hit my head instead of my hip, we wouldn’t even be sitting here. Yet he doesn’t think I deserve to know the truth?”
Delta sat stunned. This wasn’t about the physical injury at all. Eddie was suffering because his father refused to tell him why he’d almost lost his life.
At the time of the accident, she’d been too worried about Eddie to care about the reasons for the fight. Her husband’s recovery had occupied her emotions and her energy for weeks. The cause of the fight had drifted away, become unimportant, non-existent. Yet Eddie had been nursing a need to know all this time.
She’d never imagined his father’s silence was behind so much of the family’s grief. She didn’t think her father-in-law had confided in anyone, not even Cardin. She wondered if Whip knew, if his father had told him before he died.
If it would save Delta’s marriage to dig up the answer, she would. “Does your father know how you feel?”
“He doesn’t care, D. He’s not going to talk about it. He’s got Whip to drive his car now, so all he’ll tell me is to get over it and move on.”
Delta didn’t believe that for a minute. She knew how deeply Jeb loved his son. But she was also well acquainted with his pride, how often he let it dictate his decisions. And, unfortunately, Jeb’s pride was a trait his son had inherited in spades.
If Delta wanted to put an end to what had apparently been blown out of proportion by two hardheaded men, she was going to have to do it alone.
She got up and went to him, taking hold of his hand. “Your father loves you, Eddie. Your daughter loves you. And I love you very very much. We all care if you move beyond it, but that doesn’t matter because you’re the one who needs to want to. And until you reach that point, I don’t see anything about the status quo changing.”
His mouth twisted. “Does that mean you’re not going to spend the night?”
Oh, she was tempted. Four months was a long time to be without her husband, to sleep alone, to miss his body beside her in bed. “Me spending the night with you won’t solve anything.”
“I can think of one very big thing it would solve.”
“That’s because you’re using the wrong head to think.”
He brought up his hands to cup her face while he looked into her eyes. “I miss you. I need you.”
Tempted, tempted, tempted. “You miss sex. You need to get laid.”
“Same thing, sweetheart. Same thing,” he said before he brought his mouth down on hers and slipped his tongue inside.
He had been her weakness for more than half of her life. Trying to find the strength to resist him now was pure futility. She didn’t even try telling herself tha
t sleeping with him would be nothing but physical pleasure. It never was that simple with them. It never had been. And he’d opened up more to her tonight than he had in a year.
Her need for him was astounding. She let him hold her, let him kiss her, but she was the one who started taking off her clothes. And when he growled like a man whose pain only she could assuage, she stripped down to her skin faster than she ever had before.
14
CARDIN HAD NEVER THOUGHT SHE WOULD miss her own apartment so dreadfully, but stepping out of the shower onto her bathmat dotted with circles of brown, pink and sea green and reaching for the matching bath sheet, she had to admit that she did.
As comfortable as she felt in the house where she’d grown up, it was nice to be home, surrounded by her own things, not having to worry about using up all the hot water, or getting caught running around in her panties and bra.
She’d headed for her parents’ place after leaving the ice house, only to reach the end of the drive and find Delta’s car parked outside next to Eddie’s. She’d shut off the lights on Jeb’s truck and backed quietly out the way she’d come in, smiling all the while.
The stress inflicted by the last few hours would be worth it if her parents’ displeasure with her marriage to Trey was what got them back together.
Her marriage to Trey. She ignored the thrill the thought gave her and turned her mind to her make-believe fiancé. He had to be feeling like a punching bag.
Hopefully, getting to spend time tonight with Tater would soothe the verbal bruising her parents had left behind when he’d been so sweet as to ask for their permission to marry her. She and Trey had gone over their story a dozen times today, but he’d never told her that he was going to ask for their blessing.
He was taking so much heat, and getting so little in return, that she had to wonder why he’d agreed to her plan. She didn’t believe for a minute it was only the sex. He didn’t need to play her fiancé to get her into bed. That would take no more than the snap of his fingers, as had been borne out since the morning she’d visited the Corley hauler.
The attraction between them had been expected, but she was still caught off guard by the level of heat. What she was feeling for him wasn’t the stuff of a fake engagement. Her emotions were engaged all the way to her soul.
And that was hard to handle when she knew he’d soon be gone.
In the meantime, while hoping their faux romance worked to get her family back together, she planned to enjoy him immensely—the conversations, the teasing and flirting and definitely the sex.
He was already at the house when she got there, but he wasn’t inside. He was sitting on the open tailgate of his truck, his hands curled over the edges, his lower legs swinging. It was dark out, and she wasn’t sure if that was the reason why, but her body tingled everywhere with a rush of anticipation.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back,” he said, and she slowed her approach to make him wait even longer.
“Why would you think something like that?” she asked, her voice breathless to her own ears.
He kicked his legs, kicked, kicked…“I don’t know. Maybe you decided being with me for a few months wasn’t worth the cost of your parents’ disapproval.”
“I knew they were going to disapprove. That was the whole point.” But then, he knew that.
“That doesn’t mean you were ready for it,” he said, and stopped kicking.
She came closer, stepped between his knees, laid her hands on his thighs. His muscles tensed. “It’s not their reaction I wasn’t ready for.”
He hooked his ankles behind her, nudging his boots to her bottom and bringing her closer still. “I’m going to take a stab in the dark and say you’re wondering the same thing I am.”
“What’s that?”
“Why we waited seven years to scratch this itch.”
She shouldn’t ask. She really shouldn’t. But she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to know. She ran her hands from his thighs to his waist, spreading her fingers over his rib cage, marveling at how much bigger than her he was, how much stronger, how much better.
She wasn’t sure she would do for him what he was doing for her. “Is that all this is? An itch?”
“What?” He dropped back onto his elbows, distancing himself from her question. “You want to drop the fake from our engagement?”
“That’s not what I said.” She pulled free from the circle of his legs and made her way from his truck to the huge spreading oak that had been growing for decades in the front yard. She turned to lean against it, her hands behind her. “What are you getting out of helping me, Trey? I mean, if you’re just here for the sex, that’s fine. But I don’t think you are.”
He stayed silent, and though she couldn’t see his eyes in the dark, she could tell that he’d looked away. She didn’t know if that meant he hated being found out, or if his own behavior shamed him. She didn’t want him to think either.
All she wanted was the truth. “Am I off base? Is this just unfinished business?”
He sat up, taking a minute to answer. “I feel like whatever I say, it’s going to be wrong. That you’ll want to hear something else.”
His admission caused a tightening in her belly. “Just tell me the truth. I’m not going to be mad or hurt. I’m just curious. I want to know what it is I’m doing for you.”
He laughed, a deep guttural sound that sent her thoughts tumbling toward sex. It wasn’t like she’d never had it before sleeping with him. She’d even had what she considered good sex. It was just that Trey went beyond that…and he took her with him.
“What you do for me, huh?” He boosted himself off the tailgate. The truck bounced, the shocks creaking. “Are you sure you want to go there?”
He was still far enough away that she felt brave. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“Even if it’s sex? Just sex? Nothing but sex?”
How could hearing him say that one word make her melt? It was one word, three letters. She’d heard it spoken thousands of times. But the way it sounded when he said it, like it came from a part of him that needed to be in her or he would cease to exist, had her quivering and spineless. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m the only one benefiting here.”
“Trust me, sweetheart. I wouldn’t be here if this arrangement wasn’t mutually beneficial,” he said, but that still didn’t answer her question.
He had reached her now, and he braced his hands on the tree trunk, one on either side of her head. At this distance, she could see enough of his eyes to tell that this conversation wasn’t easy for him. That his teasing, and his flirting, served as a mask.
She wanted to know what he was holding back. “If you tell me how you’re benefiting, I’ll let you have all the sex you want.”
His eyes flashed. “You’re a cruel woman, Cardin Worth.”
If there had ever been a time to go for broke…“I’m the woman you can’t wait to get naked.”
“Like I said. Cruel.” And then he popped the button on her jeans, opened the zipper, and slid a hand into her panties.
“If I’m cruel, that’s because you’ve taught me well,” she said, breathing hard, spreading her legs, giving him the access he needed to reach the part of her she was desperate he find.
“Your right leg. Lift it. There.” He bit off a nasty word to go with his nasty laugh. “I can’t believe how wet you are.”
She couldn’t believe how it felt for his finger to fill her, to push in and out, how it felt for him to use his thumb on her clit while they stood there in the dark beneath the moon and the tree. “You know I’m going to come.”
“God, I hope so.” He fairly growled out the words.
“You know I can get noisy.”
“I love that you get noisy.”
“Move to the left a bit. Up, down, no right there. Right there.” She shivered, shuddered, sucked in a sharp breath. If all he was here for was sex—though she knew without a doubt he had more on
his mind—she decided it couldn’t be a bad thing.
He lowered his head, rubbed his cheek against hers, then her jaw, her neck, inhaling deeply and making her so glad she’d showered. She dug her fingers into the balls of his shoulders and held on. He nuzzled beneath her ear, sucked on the skin there, giving her the first hickey she’d had since high school.
The thought took her back, and though she didn’t linger in the past—the present felt too good—she forced herself to admit that she’d never gotten over the night she’d seen him with his pants down, and what he was doing to her now was what she’d wanted from him even then.
As his middle finger entered her, his index and ring fingers slid through her folds. She wiggled against him, wished she could climb him, wanted him deeper. Wanted things from him no other man had made her crave. Things she didn’t know enough to name.
He amazed her, learned her, worked her deftly, his breath hot against her neck where he said things she couldn’t hear. She didn’t need to hear the words he spoke to know their meaning. He was meant for her, had been made for her. They fit together too well to be a random match.
“Trey,” she said, whimpering, reaching, unable to get there from here.
“C’mon, baby,” he said, wedging a knee between her legs, lifting one of her thighs.
It worked. All of it. The angle, his stroke, the pressure from his thumb. She ground against him, crawled onto his hand, clawed at his shoulders and came. Sensation burst between her legs, down her thighs, up her back. She was a spring unloading, a spool unwinding. She didn’t want it to stop.
Trey stroked her, gentled her, eased her back, giving her the time she needed before pulling his hand from her body, his leg from beneath her thigh.
“I’m not so sure that was the best idea,” she finally said, her voice cracking, her leg muscles all wobbly jelly.
“I think it was a damn good one,” Trey countered, doing her the favor of closing her jeans.
Her back scraped the tree with her movements, and she winced. “You’re not the one who’s never going to walk straight again.”