The Wrong Kind of Love

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The Wrong Kind of Love Page 24

by Lexi Ryan


  “I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”

  “But it wasn’t. That’s the worst part. It wasn’t awful at all.” His voice cracks—shame making the confession brittle. “All I could think when she drove away was that I was grateful to be free of her—free of the constant guilt and pain of watching her suffer from her own demons. I went to bed relieved that my marriage was over.” He places a hand on top of the one I have on his chest and closes his eyes. “Then, sometime in the middle of the night, she came back and finished off all the pills she had in the house. She knew I was done. That I couldn’t save her from the darkness anymore.”

  Reaching up, I put my hand against his face and wait until he meets my eyes. “It wasn’t your job to save her.”

  “Maybe not. But I’m responsible for pushing her over the edge.”

  “No,” I whisper. “You’re not, Ethan. She would have been just as crushed had you not cared about her affair. You didn’t push her into the darkness; she surrendered herself to it.”

  “I’ve gone over that night a thousand times in my mind. If I hadn’t let my temper get the best of me, Lilly would still have her mom.” He slides a hand behind my back and pulls me into his chest. “My marriage was over the second she got into Mike’s bed, but when you have children, your marriage becomes about more than just two people. We could have gotten a divorce. I could have made sure she was comfortable. Maybe she would have married Mike. I don’t know.” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “I just don’t know.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I pull out of his embrace enough to meet his eyes. “Just like my mom’s drug abuse wasn’t my fault.” I want to wrap my arms around him, but I feel like he needs to look into my eyes while I say this. He needs to know I’m not just trying to appease his guilty conscience.

  He might be standing firm, with every muscle tense and his jaw so hard that it looks like he’s been chewing glass, but under all that is the man who kissed my tattoo with tears in his eyes. A man who’s spent the last three years wrapped up in the kind of grief that’s weighed down so heavily by guilt that it never lets you take a full breath. My mom is still alive, but I know what that kind of grief feels like. Loss comes in many forms.

  “I used to think it was my job to make my mom happy. When she started using again because real life was too hard, I thought it was my fault. It wasn’t. What happened to your wife isn’t your fault. And it’s not hers, either. It’s a disease, Ethan. You lost her to a terrible disease.”

  “I don’t ever talk about her because I’m ashamed. I failed her, Nic.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “You’re the reason she held on as long as she did. I’ve found those little notes she left you around the house, and I see a woman who wanted to get better for her husband. She just didn’t know how.”

  He closes his eyes and wraps his arms around me. “I thought I was broken forever, and then you showed up. Now I want things I didn’t think I’d ever want again.”

  If my chest didn’t already ache from his heartbreaking confession, it would now. When he finds out about my lie, will he still want those things from me? I pull off my glove and reach up to skim my fingers over his jaw. He hasn’t shaved today, and the thick layer of stubble scratches my fingers. I have to swallow back my own confession, to remember my promises and save it for another time. “You’re not broken, Ethan. You just needed to heal.”

  He turns his head and presses a kiss against the middle of my open palm. “I just needed you.”

  Ethan

  I. Want. That.

  It’s all I can think when I spot Nic sitting on the couch in the basement. When we got back from our walk, I didn’t kiss her goodnight—even though I was dying to. I just squeezed her hand and told her to let me know if she needed anything.

  I wanted her to process what I told her. I needed her to know my darkest secret before I touched her again.

  Now the whole house is asleep except the two of us, and she’s sitting with a bowl of popcorn in her lap and her gaze on the television in front of her. I want to sweep away the popcorn, turn off the TV, and lose myself looking at her. Feeling her. Touching her.

  She perks up when she sees me, grabs the remote off the end table, and presses pause. “Can’t sleep?”

  I shrug. “I can’t turn off my brain.”

  “Do you want to talk?”

  I shake my head and give a small smile. “I think I’ve done enough talking for a year.”

  “Do you want the TV?” She stands, and I hold out a hand, stopping her.

  “Please don’t. I’ll watch whatever you’re watching.”

  “Are you sure?” She bites her lip. “It’s Outlander. Kind of a chick show.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I want your company.”

  She settles back onto the couch, still looking skeptical, and I take the seat next to her and steal a handful of her popcorn. “Can I get you a beer or something?” she asks.

  “I’m good.” I can so clearly see my life like this. I’d come home after a long day to beautiful Nic sitting on the couch. Just be patient. I steal another handful of popcorn. “Tell me about this show.”

  “Okay, well, she accidentally traveled back in time.”

  “How do you accidentally travel back in time?”

  “I think it has something to do with some druids, but . . .” She shakes her head. “Not important. Anyway, she has a husband back home, but in this time she had to marry this man, Jamie, and she’s falling for him.”

  I only half listen as she continues her recap of the show. I get the impression she’s watched it a few times. Her face lights up when she talks about it, and I’m relieved to be discussing something other than my moonlight confession.

  I couldn’t believe how the words poured out of me tonight. I never talk about Elena or what happened. I told my family it was a heart attack to spare them the grief, and if they suspect I was lying, they’ve never said so. But when I started telling Nic, it was like the story was sitting inside me, waiting for her.

  “Are you ready?” she asks, waving to the TV.

  “Whenever you are.”

  She presses play, but after a few minutes, she throws her hand over her mouth then grabs the remote. “I forgot what happens in this episode.”

  “Don’t change it. Now I’m invested.” I’m not, but I do want to know what she’s so embarrassed to have me see. My fingers brush hers as I take the remote from her hands and put it on my end table.

  It turns out this show’s pretty hot, but even the characters undressing each other is nothing compared to how sweet Nic looks with those bright pink cheeks. As the characters on the television touch, she keeps her gaze fixed on the screen, as if she’s afraid to look at me. I want to know if she’s just embarrassed or if part of that flush is arousal.

  “This is awkward,” she says, cutting her gaze to me.

  “What’s awkward about it? We’re just a couple of people watching a TV show. Totally normal.” The woman on the screen drops to her knees. “Unless you’re turned on. I guess that might be a little awkward.”

  “You couldn’t prove it if I was,” she says.

  My gaze drops to her mouth. “I bet if I asked real nice, you’d let me find out for myself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you let me fuck you in the shower and then listened to me pour out my heart. I think you might have a soft spot where I’m concerned.”

  She bites her bottom lip. “Maybe.”

  Groaning, I shift so I’m sitting the long way on the sofa, one of my legs stretched out behind her, the other on the floor. I wrap a hand around her wrist and tug her toward me, guiding her to sit between my legs, her back to my front. “You can’t expect me to go to bed thinking about you being turned on and wanting something I know damn well I can give you myself.”

  I sweep my hand down the front of her body, and her eyes float closed. I trail between her breasts, over her stomach, across
the waistband of her sleep pants. My mind floods with images from our night together. Maybe I could resist if I didn’t know how good she tasted. Probably not.

  I sweep her hair to one side and lower my face to her neck. “You smell so damn good. Do you know that? I go to bed at night, and your smell is everywhere. It’s gotta be in my head because I get to work and I still smell you on me.”

  I graze my knuckles between her legs. She licks her lips before reaching above her head to thread a hand through my hair. I flatten my palm against her belly. “I was inside you without a condom in the shower.”

  She gasps as I slide my hand into her sleep pants. “But we can be more careful.”

  I was lost in the moment at the time, but I have no regrets. “I don’t need it if you don’t.”

  Her eyes meet mine and she draws in a ragged breath. “I liked the way it felt.”

  Those words send a bolt of pleasure down my spine, and I groan. Slowly, I lower my mouth to hers and start what I intend on being a long, slow seduction.

  Nicole

  “Stay,” he says against my neck.

  I roll over in Ethan’s arms, tilting my face up so I can see his. He brought me to his bedroom at the cabin, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms. This morning, he woke me with his mouth and hands before the sun came up. We made love before saying a word to each other, and now the morning light is slipping through the curtains. “What?”

  “Stay,” he says again. A hesitant smile hitches one corner of his mouth. “Lilly, she . . . I think you should stay. Don’t leave in February. Lilly’s already attached to you.” He props himself up on one hand and traces my jaw with the other. “And she’s not the only one. It turns out I’m pretty attached to you too.”

  My stomach goes into freefall for a minute, but I can’t decide if it’s joy or panic that has me feeling this way. Maybe both.

  He dips his head and kisses me. “Stay,” he says again.

  “I want to,” I whisper. “But when the time comes, you might not want me to.”

  “I find that very unlikely,” he says, his voice husky. He kisses down my neck and rolls me to my back. He holds himself on his elbows so he’s hovering over me again. The hard length of his cock settles between my legs as he puts a finger to my mouth. “I’m not just going to stop wanting you. It doesn’t work like that.”

  But it has so many times before with so much less reason. I swallow my fear and meet his eyes. “There are things you don’t know about me. Things that might change the way you feel.”

  He cups my face in his hands. “Let me be your family. You fit here. With us. With me.”

  God, I want him to be my family. I want to stay. I want him to love me despite the lie. Hell, I want him to love me because of the lie. I want him to understand why I did it and know that trying to fix people I care about is part of who I am.

  “Why are you still hiding your secrets from me, Nic? When will you see I’m not him?” He strokes the side of my face with his thumb. “And I’m not your mom, either. I’m not going to push you away. You can trust me.”

  “I do.” I draw in a breath. “I promise I do.”

  “You’ve brought so much goodness into my life. You’re changing the way I feel about everything, and I’m realizing that even if I remain this stubborn asshole who won’t admit he’s in love with you, it’s not going to spare Lilly when you walk away. And it’s not going to spare me, either.”

  He shifts his hips so he’s positioned at my center, poised to enter me again. I hold my breath. Because he’s saying everything I want to hear, but I’ve been here before—in the arms of a man who I think I need to be happy—and I’m wrong every time. I ruin it every time. A tear slides down my cheek, hot and as lonely as this heart I’ve kept caged. “I love you too,” I say, but I can’t follow my words with promises, and that breaks my heart.

  I shift my hips, guiding him to slide into me. “I love you,” I repeat. My voice sounds shaky and desperate.

  He lowers his head and brushes his lips against mine. There’s no fire in the kiss. No demand. This kiss is a question. This kiss is asking me to stay.

  Nicole

  I can barely keep my eyes open while I’m getting Lilly ready for school on Monday. I use the espresso machine to add a couple of shots of extra caffeine to my usual morning coffee. By the time I have her buckled into her booster seat and am driving the ten blocks to school, I’m wide awake but no less distracted.

  “So, you’ll get me after school?” Lilly asks from the back as I pull into the car line that wraps around the school’s parking lot.

  “That’s right,” I say as I pull up to the doors. “Go ahead and unbuckle, sweetie.” They don’t like the adults to get out of the car at the drop-off line because it slows down the traffic, so I wait and let the teacher on morning duty open the door and help Lilly out. “I’ll see you later, alligator!”

  She throws her backpack over her shoulder. “After a while, crocodile!” she responds with her big grin, showing off her missing front-bottom teeth.

  The teacher shuts the back door behind her, and I wave before I drive away.

  I didn’t sleep much last night, or the three nights before. Once Lilly has been in bed for the night, Ethan hasn’t been able to keep his hands off me. And I haven’t wanted him to.

  And after Ethan falls asleep, I can’t turn off my thoughts. I keep trying to think of a way I can tell Ethan the truth without losing his trust or exposing his mother’s secret. I keep trying to think of a reason that diving straight into another relationship wouldn’t be a total disaster when that’s exactly what I promised myself I wouldn’t do.

  I haven’t figured it out, and I know I’m playing a dangerous game. Maybe I’m lying to myself, but when we’re together, I believe in our love. Ethan needs to touch me as much as I ache for him to, and that connection makes me believe we’ll be okay once the storm hits. Even if I haven’t figured out how.

  Teagan is waiting for me on Ethan’s front porch when I get back from my school run. She just shows up sometimes—like family would. That thought makes me smile.

  “Well, aren’t you smiley this morning?” she says as she follows me into the house.

  I shed my coat and take hers. “I’m always in a good mood in the morning.” Nevertheless, I try to hide the evidence by biting back my smile. “That’s why they call me a morning person.”

  She folds her arms and narrows her gaze. She’s in yoga pants and a long-sleeved T, her mascara is smeared under her eyes, and her hair is half in and half out of her sloppy bun. She looks more like she just woke from a bender in Vegas than like a nurse who worked a double. “I know this about you, but it’s worse this morning.” She wrinkles her nose as if there’s something truly offensive about a person being perky before nine a.m. “This is something more.” Her eyes go wide, and her jaw drops. “You’re sleeping with Dr. McBroody Pants!”

  My cheeks flash hot. “Where did you get that idea?”

  “You ho! I’ve lived here for two years, and the only guy who’s put a smile like that on my face was the one who was giving out free donuts at the mammogram clinic. God, I’m so jealous of you right now.”

  Snorting, I beeline to the coffee pot, where I fill the biggest mug in the cabinet with the nectar of the gods. I take a long drink and smile before meeting my friend’s eyes. “I tried to resist him, but he’s pretty irresistible.”

  The self-righteous grin falls from her face, and she shakes her head. “No.”

  “Yeah. Sorry. He is.”

  “You’re falling for him. You’re not supposed to fall for the rebound guy, Nic. You’re supposed to use him for sex.”

  “I know! But he’s . . .” I bite my lip and think of his mouth on mine, the way his hand feels when it slides over my jaw and into my hair, the pressure of his fingers at the back of my neck. “He makes me melt, Teagan. Like, toe-curling, stomach-fluttering, ice-in-the-hot-sun melt. And he sees me.” I stare into my coffee. “I don’t think I’v
e ever let myself be so real with a man before. But I don’t have to try to be anyone but myself to win his approval. He just wants me as I am.”

  “You mean he wants Veronica,” she says softly. “Because that’s still who he thinks you are, right? Unless you’ve told him?”

  My stomach knots in shame, and I glare at her. “Aren’t you the one who kept telling me to hook up with him?”

  “Hook up. Not fall in love.” Her shoulders sag and she shakes her head. “I don’t want you getting hurt again, and sweetie, I’m sorry, but this has disaster written all over it.”

  “I’m going to tell him. Just not yet. I promised his sister I wouldn’t say anything until after Christmas.”

  “And what happens then, Nic? What happens after he spends Christmas with you and you tell the man you’ve fallen so hard for that you’ve been lying?”

  Love born in a lie is THE WRONG KIND OF LOVE! I wish I’d never seen that note in Elena’s book. It haunts me. “I don’t know, Teagan.”

  Ethan

  “Is everything okay, Dr. Jackson?” the postpartum nurse asks, her tone hesitant.

  “Fine. Everything’s fine.” But it’s not.

  I went home at lunch, and when I checked the mail, I found five letters addressed to Nic Maddox. All with preschool names on the return address label. The preschool addresses were from all over the country—from Seattle to Miami, with the closest in Indianapolis.

  She’s looking for a job. She’s really going to leave.

  I felt like I’d been flying high for four days, but when I pulled those letters from my mailbox, I crashed down hard.

 

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