by Aria Ford
“No.” He knew what I meant. The issues with Carson and I weren’t his fault. “Well, I guess I should fill you in on some details.”
“Is he likely to overhear it?” I asked, casting my eyes in the direction of the stairs.
“I shouldn’t think so,” Brett observed. “He’s probably sleeping. We can close the kitchen door if you’d prefer.”
I nodded.
“Carson got back from the army last year,” Brett explained, closing the door and joining me here. “He contacted me about a month afterward. Said he was in Boulder.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know he lived in Boulder. His parents used to live in Aspen.
“He came to see me, once.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know that either. Though I probably should have guessed, since the kids knew who he was.
“He was…quite different.”
“He seemed the same to me,” I said. He was a little older, his face softer with a few lines where there hadn’t been any before, but he still had the same sparkling eyes, the wicked smile. He was Carson and unfortunately my heart hadn’t forgotten him.
“Well, in some way, yeah,” Brett said carefully. “The war…it does things to people Mel.”
“I imagine so,” I said carefully.
“He was…he was having trouble when he got back,” Brett explained. “I think he’s okay now. But it was hard for him at first. To adjust. To return.”
“I can imagine,” I repeated myself, though I wasn’t sure I really could. I had read a bit about the cost of war—the way soldiers were affected by it years afterward, the toll it took on their lives. All I knew about it was that it was beyond what I could comprehend.
“He’s okay now,” Brett said. “At least, he says he’s stabilized.”
“Good,” I said feelingly. The thought of quiet, distant Carson being wounded in ways I couldn’t see troubled me. He was stable; a rock. That was one of the things I had loved about him: that there was never a problem that seemed too big for him. He liked challenges. Actually, he didn’t see anything as impossible, so I guess there weren’t any challenges to him.
“I guess I shouldn’t have invited him here,” Brett said softly. “But I couldn’t not.”
“I understand.”
That, I did understand. Brett was always warmhearted. He had filled our house with people and laughter when I was growing up; and he was always holding open arms out. My mom had always said he was overly-generous, that he would bankrupt himself one day. I hadn’t believed her.
“Reese wasn’t sure about it,” Brett confided.
Reese was always cautious. I thought, not for the first time, that Nature had created Brett and Reese for partners. As careless and lively as Brett was, Reese was thoughtful and reserved. She was a high-powered executive for a boutique chain and she took no nonsense from anyone; not even from Brett. A more light and fun-loving person, Brett’s friendly openness was tempered by her care.
“If you wanted to have him here, I think it was the right thing,” I said hesitantly.
“Thanks, sister.” Brett smiled. He patted my hand where it lay on the table in front of him. “I appreciate it.”
I smiled. Together we sat in the comfortable silence of his kitchen and listened to the noises in the street, the ticking clock, the breeze. The clock said it was eight-thirty and I yawned. I really was tired after the day’s driving.
“Want to go to sleep again?” Brett asked, looking at me caringly. “The rest of them will probably only join us at nine or so.”
“I’m okay,” I lied. In truth, the tension and long drive had just caught up with me. I would love to take a rest. My body just didn’t want to play along and let me off the hook.
“Well, then,” Brett smiled, patting my hand again. “We have a whole week to talk.”
“We do,” I agreed. “Almost Christmas too.”
Brett laughed. “Isn’t it, though? I really should get some last-minute shopping.”
I rolled my eyes. That was typical Brett. “You mean, you haven’t done your gifts yet?”
“Two of them,” he admitted. I laughed.
“Brett, my brother, don’t ever change.”
He chuckled. “I would have thought change was what I needed most right now.”
“No,” I insisted, looking into his eyes fondly. “If you changed, I wouldn’t know what was going on. You’re my anchor. If you weren’t unpredictable, everything would change.”
Brett smiled. “Thanks, sis.”
“Don’t mention it,” I laughed. “Now, I really am going to need some more coffee, before I fall asleep here at the table.”
“I can recommend the spare room.” Brett grinned. “More comfortable by far.”
I laughed. “I believe it, brother. It was last night.”
I stood to make more coffee and pushed my chair in, blinking to keep myself awake. He stood too and hugged me.
“It’s so good to have you here, sis.”
I squeezed his shoulder as we stepped apart, looking up into his earnest, smiling face. “It’s good to be here,” I said sincerely.
As I made coffee, Reese appeared in the kitchen, already dressed. “Hey! Hello,” she said warmly.
“Hi,” I said, then turned back to the minutiae of making coffee. I heard someone cross the ceiling, a heavier footfall, and my heart tightened, knowing who it was. Carson.
The heart is a strange thing and my own had not forgotten Carson Grant.
“I’ll go get dressed,” Brett said, grinning. “I can’t be the only one at breakfast without clothes.”
Reese laughed. “You do have clothes.”
“Well, I’d probably have gotten arrested if I didn’t,” he laughed. “Mr. Peterson next door would have looked through here and phoned the police.”
We all laughed and I felt glad that I had come to visit.
If I could just sort out my feelings about Carson, I thought, I would be completely happy.
While Brett was upstairs getting dressed, the kids came down to join us.
“Auntie Amelia!” Cayley said cheerfully. “There you are.” She slid into the seat beside me and I smiled at her.
“Did you sleep?”
“Very well, thank you.” She replied, voice prim.
I smiled. “That’s good. Josh?”
“I slept like an elephant!” he declared proudly. I frowned, confused.
“How do elephants sleep?”
“No!” he giggled. “Not like an elephant. I slept so big as an elephant.” He held out his arms, an all-encompassing gesture.
“Oh!” I laughed, the inexorable logic of it lifting my mood. “Good.”
Cayley giggled. “Did you sleep as big as an elephant, auntie?”
I smiled. “I slept a bit.”
As Reese passed me the milk and I settled down to breakfast, I thought that if only I could keep my mind off Carson Grant I might sleep as big as an elephant after all.
CHAPTER SIX
Carson
The next morning, I went downstairs at nine for breakfast. I was pleased to find that I was not too late. In fact, it seemed, I was early: Of all the family, only Brett and Reese were down there, having toast in the early morning sun. The kitchen smelled of fresh-brewed coffee and toast and a delicious warmth.
“Morning,” I said quietly, tiptoeing round in my trainers to an unoccupied seat. I didn’t want to wake up anyone who was sleeping. Especially not Amelia. I remembered she loved sleeping in. when I saw an empty coffee-mug on the drainboard, I raised a brow. There were lipstick stains on it and I wondered if it was hers.
“Hey, Carson.” Brett smiled, breaking my focus. “A good rest last night?”
“Coffee?” Reese asked at once.
“Mm.” I nodded, enthusiastically. “Yes, please. That’d be great.” I took a seat at the table.
Brett laughed. “You and coffee. The day when you say no to that is the day Hell freezes over.”
“I don’t drink that much coff
ee,” I said, pretending to be defensive. He laughed.
“And it doesn’t snow in winter either.”
“Well…” I looked out of the window onto the bare, cold ground of the yard, where there was clearly no snow. Brett groaned.
“Reese, remind me that this man always has to try beating me…”
We chuckled. Reese passed me a mug of coffee.
“Thanks,” I said fervently, and I closed my eyes, drinking it appreciatively. The kitchen was warm, morning sun cheery. I leaned back to savor it.
“Is everyone asleep?” I asked, looking at the stairs. As if in answer, a giggle drifted down to us.
“Amelia’s with the kids,” Brett said. “When she stays here she often plays with them.”
“Really?” I was surprised. The thought of Amelia being playful and liking kids was something that hadn’t occurred to me before. My heart lurched painfully.
“Yes,” Reese nodded. “She’s a great help.”
“We would pay her to move to LA.”
We all laughed. “She’s great,” I agreed. “I can imagine she’s a help.”
“Yes.” Brett nodded. He gave me a funny look—considering, maybe—and I blushed, looking into my coffee.
I was surprised by how much I felt for Amelia. I was, if anything, even more surprised by how little had changed between us. She was still everything I wanted and I was still ragingly, impossibly, wildly attracted to her.
The connection is still there too.
Sitting next to her at dinner had been so uncomfortable, for two reasons. Firstly, because every time I breathed in, I could smell the sweet floral scent of her and it was driving my poor body wild. Second, because every time I saw her, we were young again and alone, looking at each other with love.
And walking into her coming out of the shower had been something else.
My lips lifted into an unstoppable grin. My cock was hard just thinking of what it had been like, standing there in the corridor with my eyes feasting on her body and her eying me out.
I never expected it to be like this now. That was the thing that was the hardest. The fact that, now, I couldn’t deny it anymore. I loved Amelia. I had forced myself to forget it; made myself believe that she was my first girlfriend and that was why it’d been so epic, so wonderful. But it wasn’t that.
I’m thirty-one now and not exactly inexperienced. And I still feel just the same.
She was still upstairs with the kids: I could just hear her giggling as she played with them, making it so hard to concentrate on what Brett was trying to tell me. My mind was up there with her, watching her laugh and tickle them and be the lighthearted, beautiful person I always loved.
The conversation had shifted, some time, to when Brett and Reese moved into their house together. I realized I had been daydreaming and shifted gear, focusing on their words. It wasn’t hard to catch up.
“…and then we added a garage at the back…”
“Mm,” I nodded, trying to add some comment to the conversation to make it clear I wasn’t completely ignoring him. I wasn’t—I was just preoccupied with the new usual: thinking of Amelia.
“You should have seen it!” Reese was laughing. “You’d think he was building it himself, he was so proud!”
I laughed too. I could imagine it of Brett. It was weird, seeing him and how he’d settled down. He was always such a firebrand when we were in college together—always on the football pitch or at parties. Always starting something. I often found myself feeling protective of him, since his open, direct nature sometimes led him into danger. But now, he had settled down.
“Brett Carlyle, house-proud dad.”
I saluted him with my glass. He pulled a tongue.
“Well, what’s wrong with that?” he asked, when we had stopped laughing.
“Nothing,” I said wistfully. “Nothing at all. It’s great.”
I meant it. Seeing him here, so happy and settled with his loved ones made me feel a yearning for something similar. It was strange. All my life I had resisted that, wanting to be free and alone. I had imagined a family and a wife would prevent that. Now I was starting to see that the love and support of Brett’s family actually made it easier for him to achieve more.
“You are staying in Boulder permanently?” Reese asked. I nodded.
“I’m discharged, Reese,” I reminded her gently.
“Good,” she said, nodding her head. Brett grinned.
“Discharged! So he can’t explode anymore, Reese.”
I grimaced. It was a funny pun, but for me it made my skin crawl. Anyone who has stood on land that could be mined, or waited for a bomb to drop didn’t joke about exploding.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
Brett seemed to realize he hit a nerve, because he cleared his throat. “Well, does anyone want some more muesli? I do.”
I heard his chair scrape as he headed into the kitchen. I looked at Reese, who lifted her shoulder in a shrug and gave a light laugh.
“Well, it’s good you could be here with us for Christmas,” she said warmly. I nodded once more.
“Yes. I’m glad too.”
We sat in a polite silence until Brett joined us, bringing the milk and cereals with him. He put it in the middle of the table so we could all take some. I tried to think of something to say, but I felt too distracted to make conversation. Upstairs, the laughter had quietened.
“I wonder if Amelia’s staying up there?” Brett chuckled. Reese smiled.
“She’s great with the kids,” she observed for a second time, running her fingers along her collar thoughtfully. “I don’t know what I’d do without her sometimes!” She seemed on edge and I felt bad. I hadn’t meant for my sudden gloominess to put pressure on her.
“Yeah,” Brett chuckled. “Like when we were skiing. Remember?”
“Yes!” Reese laughed. “I nearly died laughing about that. So typical Amelia.”
“Oh?” I asked, raising a brow. A story about Amelia was going to be interesting. I leaned forward in my chair expectantly.
“Yeah!” he said to me. “We were we in the mountains. It must have been last year, actually. Anyway, Amelia was with us and…it was last year, wasn’t it—Josh was four?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Reese affirmed.
“Anyway. Amelia came skiing with us. Now keep in mind Amelia has never skied. So there we were at the top of the slope—a small slope, since the kids were just little—us, Cayley, Josh, and Mel. And we start. Josh starts off down the slope. He’s skiing down, yelling like he’s being sawed in half. The excitement was too much for him. And anyway, Mel thinks he’s been hurt. So off she charges, forgetting she has skis on. She skids on the slope, lands on her behind and skates all the way down. Poor girl!”
He was chuckling and I couldn’t help laughing too. It was funny. But even as I laughed, I realized how typical it was of her, to run to save a child without thinking about it. Putting herself in danger without a second thought. She reminded me of Pete that way—always looking out for others. I had forgotten that about her.
“Brett!” a voice from the door said. I turned around. Amelia was standing there. Her hair had come loose from its ties and it flowed around her head in those soft waves I’d always loved, even though she called it messy. She was wearing a pale pink sweater and jeans and she looked incredible. The front was tight over her high, round breasts and I found I could look nowhere else.
“What?” he asked, grinning wickedly.
“What are you telling people about me now?” Amelia said with a teasing smile.
“Nothing, sis,” he said innocently.
“Brett was just talking about the holiday,” Reese explained.
“Which holiday, Brett?” she asked, blue eyes wide. Her mouth was a soft pink “o”, and my loins tugged painfully looking at her.
“He told the story about your skiing lesson,” I said quickly. It wasn’t fair not to tell Amelia the truth.
She blushed. It looked spectacular.
I found it very hard to look anywhere else. “Brett!” she said. She was caught between laughing and complete indignation. “Are you embarrassing me?”
“No,” he said with a prim expression. “Would I?”
“Brett!” she said again, laughing, and launching herself at him to give him a playful punch on the arm. “You are such a…big brother!”
He was laughing helplessly and I joined in. I couldn’t help it. It was as if we were all kids again and the world was right and Brett and I were at his home, with Amelia. Like it was when we first met.
“Come on, you two,” Reese said, seeming uncomfortable with the rough interchange between the siblings. “I thought we could all try that new coffee you bought yesterday.” She raised inquiring brows at Brett and he sighed, laughter subsiding.
“I’ll fetch it,” he promised. He headed to the pantry. We could hear him rummaging about.
Amelia, without Brett to torment for a moment, came and sat down beside me. She shot me a look under her brows that made me laugh. She looked indignant and wicked at once. I didn’t even think about what I was doing. I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder, squeezing it firmly.
She tensed. I instantly took my hand away.
You absolute fool, Carson!
Now she was probably going to be cross with me. Did I really have to forget myself like that? We had split years ago! But the habit was still there. It was like the intervening years did nothing to change us being together. It might be as if nothing had changed, but things had changed. Touching her wasn’t necessarily permissible. Not now and not yet.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
She looked at me. Her eyes had a strange expression that I couldn’t fathom. I cleared my throat, ready with an excuse for my action.
“I…”
“Here we are,” Brett said, saving me from my mire of awkwardness. “A strong coffee for anyone? Any takers?”
“Me, please!” I said immediately. I was firmly addicted to coffee at the moment. Brett was right.
He rolled his eyes at me. “I knew you’d say yes, Grant.” He chuckled. “Amelia?” Brett asked. She nodded.
“I know I’ve already had one—okay, one and a half—but just make me another half, please?”