All the Days After

by Carrie Thorne

  Another drawback to the loft-style bedrooms looking over the living room: she could hear everything that happened downstairs. Enough problems of her own, Sophie didn’t care for eavesdropping. More secrets, more worries. She was just leaving her bedroom and about to head downstairs, when the conversation below stopped her.

  “Go easy on him. He’s had a rough time.” Denise’s voice was just above a loud whisper, the soft volume paled in contrast to the firmness in her tone.

  She’d heard Pippa receive an earful more than a few times about her refusal to bring Sophie to visit when Asher was home, making it a rarity when Pippa actually saw her brother over the years. Certainly, she never spent holidays with him, as Asher typically offered up holiday vacations to others of his SEAL team with families of their own.

  Pippa’s voice was not so soft, not caring who heard her annoyance. “Why is he staying in my old room next to Sophie? She’s no match for him. Why do you think I’ve never been here when I knew he was going to be here? I love my brother, but I’m sick of him leaving my friends brokenhearted.”

  Before she realized the gravity of what she’d done, Sophie found her fingertips in her mouth, her nails quickly wasting away to nothing. Dammit, she didn’t want to bite her nails. Disgusting habit and a glaring sign of weakness.

  Guilty, guilty, guilty. She’d been around Asher for a grand total of five minutes, and already was fantasizing about him taking her from behind while she was leaned over the hood of his truck. What was up with her rabidly horny imagination running on overdrive? Grady was just as attractive but didn’t cause nearly the reaction.

  Clanking pots and pans echoed across the house, as Denise shuffled through the cupboards more dramatically than necessary. “He’s your brother. I put him in the quietest, most spacious bedroom since he’ll be here the longest. And, you haven’t seen him much these last few years; he needs to be able to escape when things get hectic. Knowing you and Lincoln might appreciate a little privacy when he stays the night, I put you in the complete opposite room.”

  Pippa’s voice softened a bit. “I do appreciate your thoughtfulness. I love my brother, despite our differences during those awkward teenage years. I’m so proud of his accomplishments. But–”

  Before Pippa could finish, Denise cut her off with now frank exasperation in her voice. “He’s been home for a month. Guess how many times he’s been out?” She didn’t let Pippa answer. “Not once. I don’t think Sophie is in any danger. He doesn’t talk much, doesn’t go out, nor has he during his last several trips home. If you had come to visit him more often, you might have noticed.”

  Her friend’s guilt was almost palpable from clear across the house. Despite their differences, she did care about her brother. Even when they were at the worst of odds, Pippa still called him every month. “You’re right. I’m sure I’m overreacting. Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

  Denise sighed. “I don’t know. He won’t say much, but he’s seen some terrible things. It’s been getting better. I think the therapy and R&R has been good for him. Just… go easy on him, okay?”

  “I will. He’s still okay with being in the wedding party, right? Because it’s all about me, and he’ll look very handsome alongside Lincoln and Grady up front.” Pippa laughed at herself. She was not someone Sophie would consider selfish under normal circumstances, so joking about it reflected her self-awareness and guilt when her thoughts strayed toward self-centered.

  Denise laughed with her. “Whether he’s agreeable or not, it’ll be good for him. He and Lincoln were always good friends anyway. Even before you two got together.”

  Sophie’s poor imagination went wild, imagining she and Asher on a double date with Pippa and Lincoln, then later the roles reverse at her own white wedding with Asher. Where had that come from? Raw lust was one thing, but wedding bells was the last thing on her mind. Must be all the wedding talk rubbing off on her.

  3

  “Don’t you wear those filthy boots in the house, Asher Sutherland.” Denise hollered at her son as he entered the house. Can’t get away with anything around here.

  Obediently, Asher pulled off his smelly old combat boots and socks, bundling them up with the greasy t-shirt he’d already peeled off. In front of Sophie. It really hadn’t been intentional. Although, her reaction had been a nice boost to his self-esteem that had undergone too many hits the last six months.

  Although unnecessary, Denise’s worry was quite reasonable. As a considerate person, he wasn’t about to leave the nasty shoes for the entire house to smell, not with the dinner table less than twenty feet from the front door. Wearing nothing but his ragged jeans, clutching his grubby work clothes, he dashed for the stairs.

  In his hurry, he nearly bowled over Sophie. He hadn’t exactly allowed for proper introductions earlier, but none had been needed. With the raving his family had done about her over the years and pictures around the house like she was one of their own, he knew exactly what Sophie looked like. Knew about her accomplishments in college, how Aunt Jane was hoping she’d join her soon-to-be two-person accounting firm.

  Miss Perfect is what she was. An enlarged UCLA graduation photo of her wearing a sweet little white sundress was even framed over the mantle with the rest of the family photos. He’d developed a total crush on her from the moment he’d seen that photo.

  None of the pictures or stories were even close to reflecting Sophie in person. Mysterious with those stormy gray eyes. Cute with her easy dimples. A fucking knockout with mile-long legs. Hair that was artfully neither blond nor brown but a rebellious mix that declared she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, be labeled.

  Playing the ever-humiliating game of which way to move to let the other pass, they shared a clumsy smile as both were stuck on the wrong side of the landing. Her spontaneous, lyrical laugh resonated in his head, a pleasant surprise that no one had told him about. Genuine, sweet, feminine… with a hint of wicked.

  Gripping his boots and shirt in one hand, he leaned against the wall and motioned her across gallantly. He caught her scent on the way by; so clean and soft. Something subtly floral and earthy but not overpowering, more like she’d been hiking through wildflowers rather than bathing in perfume like his late grandmother.

  Dammit, not at all what he needed right now. Pippa had been smart to ensure they never met. Well, no good way to say it; he enjoyed women. A lot. And she tended to make friends with some very attractive women.

  Not that he’d done anything like that in years. Too busy training, then too many floozies looking for the company of a Navy SEAL for the night. Easy access sort of cured his quickdraw dating habits.

  One look at that sort of women and he pictured his dick rotting away from STDs. No thank you. Not that he’d ever even let a woman touch him unless there was a high-quality condom between any part of her and his dick.

  Plus, he liked to think that he’d grown up a bit.

  Sophie was different. She exuded an easy confidence and, well, she was downright capable without making a fuss about it. Without regard for her pristinely white t-shirt, she’d climbed right up onto his truck and pulled out the bolt he’d been trying to reach for hours. Given him a spectacular view of her ass in tight denim while she was at it.

  He’d enjoyed her double take when he’d peeled off his grease-stained shirt. That hungry look on her face matched his own reaction. In an instant, his little crush had blown up into a colossal case of gut-wrenching lust.

  But… more than anything, he needed to not make it with Pippa’s best friend. Again. That relationship was tenuous enough.

  Cringing, he vividly recalled the worst of all his conquests was on Pippa’s prom night. He’d been visiting from college. Pippa and her good friend at the time had met at their house. Her friend… what was her name again? Dammit, he couldn’t even remember her name. Whatever, she was nineteen and friendly and… experienced.

  Unfortunately for Pippa, what’s-her-name was a little offended he never called her back after and had
silently blamed Pippa for his callousness. Pippa hadn’t even known why her friend stopped talking to her for months. He’d gotten an earful when she found out.

  Yeah, he should probably steer clear of Sophie. Based on his response to her today… fuck, he was still battling the threatening erection, it wasn’t going to be easy to stay away from her. He’d been celibate for so long he was about to call Guinness. How tough could a few more weeks be?

  After a quick shower, his second today, he wasn’t quite so sweaty or coated with motor oil. Inevitably, some of the grease was still embedded in the creases of his hands. Throwing on his cleanest t-shirt and jeans, neatly folded in his drawer–thank you Mom–he dashed downstairs in time to join the family for dinner.

  When he’d first gotten home, he’d tried to hole up in his room twenty-four-seven, even for meals. His dad had put a stop to that right away. He’d been right, which Asher wasn’t pleased about. PTSD wasn’t going to get any better if he isolated himself, so said his therapist.

  His mom was just putting salmon, salad, and homemade baked fries on the table. That’s what smelled so good, they were crispy and everything. Dousing the homemade fries in ketchup, he dove into his meal ravenously.

  Wolfing down the delicious handful of fries, he glanced up to find the whole table was looking at him. Denise scowled at his abhorrent table manners. Paul gave him that look, the Don’t be a dumbass look he’d earned many times in his life. Pippa eyed him anxiously, ensuring he wasn’t looking at Sophie. Sophie, however, bit her cheek in a teasing smile before starting on her salmon.

  Giving his mother a wink, he slowed down and tried to eat like a normal human being. His mom ought to dine with sailors on a sub or destroyer sometime. Not so keen on the manners.

  Hating to cook for himself, Asher had spent most of his meals in the galley on base or eaten microwaveable meals in his closet apartment alone. A few times a month, he’d go out with his few pals, Zane and Jack. Despite his relief to leave the Navy, he missed his friends.

  Granting him a reprieve, Denise opened the table to conversation. “Pippa, darling, is your appointment at Tracey’s Apparel and Alterations tomorrow or the next day? I forgot to write it down.”

  Politely swallowing her mouthful, Pippa delicately wiped the corners of her mouth before speaking. Showoff. “Didn’t you get the calendar I shared with you? It’s tomorrow at two o'clock. You’ll be there, right?”

  “Of course, sweetie. I wouldn’t miss your final dress fitting. Why was I thinking it was the day after? I can’t seem to get your calendar to sync with mine.” Denise looked into the air as if the answer was hovering above the table.

  Pippa hopped up from the table and grabbed her organizer from her purse. “Then, the day after we meet the caterer and finalize the menu, then we confirm the cake order. Then on Monday we pick up place cards, Tuesday the party favors should arrive. The rehearsal rehearsal dinner is in ten days, the day after Freya gets in. Then the bridesmaid and tux fittings for the last-minute tailoring.

  “Oh, and the bachelor and bachelorette parties, but we haven’t nailed down dates for that yet since we hadn’t decided what we’re doing for those. Bridal shower will be after the rehearsal rehearsal dinner, and rehearsal dinner just two days before the wedding, a day to relax, then the Big Day.” Breathless from the long litany, Pippa beamed at her organizational skills.

  Seated next to her, Sophie pointed in the air with a fry and nudged her friend. “Did you really just say rehearsal rehearsal dinner? I’ve never been married, but I wasn’t aware that was a thing.” At least someone had their head on straight around here.

  Rolling her eyes at her friend, Pippa nudged her back. “It’s totally a thing. Just ask Pinterest. The rehearsal dinner is all of us, the wedding party, Lincoln’s family. The rehearsal rehearsal dinner is just the wedding party so everyone can get to know each other.”

  Trying to make sense of what her friend had just said, Sophie considered for a moment. Asher liked watching her think. She wore her thoughts right on her sleeve. Nothing dishonest or shrouded. “That sounds fun. We can nail down bachelor and bachelorette parties and other to-do’s together. And I’m looking forward to meeting Freya.” She was too good to his crazy sister.

  Pippa’s eyes lit up. “Perfect, we can have it here. I’ll whip up a tasty dinner and then we can relax in the hot tub.”

  Wedding planning banter bounced around the table until his head was spinning. No one seemed to notice that he didn’t have a useful thing to say on the matter. He cared, of course, but he sort of planned to just show up where and when he was told.

  Lincoln was a good guy and would take on her lovable crazy; he was glad Pippa had reconnected with him. Although, knowing Pippa, their reuniting in Seattle hadn’t been a coincidence. Nothing she did wasn’t premeditated. Including the fact that he hadn’t laid eyes on Sophie until it became unavoidable.

  Despite his better judgment, his eyes kept straying across the table to Sophie. Catching him watching her, she bit her lower lip shyly. Devouring a cluster of fries, he nearly choked as he imagined those perfectly lush lips sliding over his cock so smoothly. Knock it off, he mentally kicked himself.

  After dinner, Asher cleared his plate and was surprised to find Sophie right behind him, handing him her plate. He took her plate and rinsed it before putting it in the dishwasher. She was back with more. Kept coming back with more plates, pans, whatnot… until before he knew it the dishes were done. He’d dodged dishes from the day he’d gotten home, but somehow, he’d just done them all. Sneaky woman.

  He refused to glance in his mother’s direction. Without even looking, he could see the smug, if not shocked, expression on her face as she relocated into the living room. Might as well go all in. He grabbed a bottle of red and the last of the white and topped off the wine glasses in the living room.

  Settling in on the end of the well-cushioned, beige linen couch facing out the window, Asher crossed his feet on the coffee table and leaned back to enjoy his wine. Sophie sat in the seat opposite his, her crossed feet not quite touching his. Was it hot in here?

  A few millimeters separated their feet, and he was toast. If even almost-footsy made his head rush with Sophie, he couldn’t imagine the inferno of just touching her, his tongue running between her perfect breasts, his hands gripping her ass as he… Blinking, he brought himself back to the moment. Must be the long epoch without getting any, and he hadn’t gotten much action in the few years before that.

  The rest of the evening was actually relaxing, despite his overactive imagination. No one expected any input from him. As usual, Pippa carried the conversation quite well on her own, bouncing wedding ideas off her willing listeners.

  Paul had a few comments, mostly involving money-saving alternatives. Sophie mostly sat back and smiled, enjoying her friend’s enthusiasm, but her ideas clearly differed. Not that she would make Pippa feel any less for having big ideas.

  The four of them had been a tight unit when he was a kid. Perhaps he’d blown it a bit his teenage years, but they’d still been a good team. Somehow, Sophie didn’t feel like a guest in their midst. Like Lincoln always fit right in. He’d known then Lincoln was the guy for his sister. His parents must have felt it as well, having included pictures of Sophie and Lincoln mixed in with those of their own children.

  Across the coffee table, Sophie pulled her feet in and curled up in her chair. Immediately, he felt cold at the distance between them. She sipped the last of her wine, her smile warm and her gray eyes sleepy. Even fatigued, he didn’t miss the storm that still lingered behind them.

  Like dark clouds that hinted at a dark past she masked with her easy smile, her eyes held a deep intensity. He’d never quite seen eyes that shade before. If it weren’t for those eyes, he’d think she was a goodie-two-shoes like his sister. Those eyes had seen more than their fair share.

  Sophie, Denise, and Paul turned in early. As soon as the bedroom doors were closed, Pippa’s face changed from calm and collected
to determined and nosy. Fast as a damn cheetah, she left her own seat and sat opposite him, leaned forward in full ready-to-pounce position.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Her eyes drilled into him, like lasers blasting him into submission.

  “Sorry?” He played innocent. He knew exactly what she was talking about.

  Counting on her fingers, she made a rather embarrassing list. “Jenny, Alyssa, Fiona, Bethany. Oh, and don’t forget Lyric.”

  Oh yeah. Lyric. That was her name. She wasn’t very lyrical in her noises, a bit more of a hyena. Not that he’d spent more than ten minutes in her company. But she sure seemed to enjoy herself.

  He lowered his feet to the carpet and set down his empty wine glass on the coffee table. Trying his very best to not crack a smile, knowing it would throw her over the deep end, Asher wiped his expression and faced his sister and her accusations. “I am really, truly sorry for… well, for ruining your friendships, and I won’t let it happen again.”

  Not sure what to do about the lack of argument, Pippa leaned back and adjusted her posture. “Okay.”

  “In my defense, they really weren’t very good friends if they judged you based on my failings–” She tried to interrupt. Understandable, this was not his best retort, but on all those occasions, it had taken two to tango.

  Grimacing, he powered on before she could bowl over his poor defense. “-Pip, I haven’t done anything like that in years.” She gave an unladylike snort and rolled her eyes. “Really, sis. It’s been nearly two years since I’ve even been with anyone.”

  Brow rumpled; disbelief threatened to take over her expression. “Two years?”

  And he went on, when he probably shouldn’t have. “Yeah. Two years. Back in the day, I was a stupid, albeit horny, kid. I grew up a while back. You just weren’t around to notice.”

  The ability to think things through before speaking or acting had never quite come naturally for Asher. His foot ended up in his mouth more often than not. Or his dick where it shouldn’t be. Well, at least he’d grown out of that poor impulse control issue.