by Sierra Dafoe
It was such a perfect moment. Annie closed her eyes, savoring it. Life hadn’t exactly provided her with a lot of them, and she wanted to enjoy this one to the fullest.
For some reason, a memory of Judah intruded. Judah at nine or ten, watching her and Tommy play.
“Annie?”
“Hmm?” She forced the memory away and caressed his chest lightly.
“Marry me, Annie.”
Oh shit. Her hand halted on his chest.
She lay there unmoving, in a kind of frozen panic, until she felt Tommy’s heart beating beneath his ribs, his pulse a fraction faster than it had been before. There was a subtle tension in his body, a tautness that made her think of a hunting dog on point.
He was listening. Wondering.
Waiting for her answer.
Annie took a deep breath. “I can’t.”
His muscles clenched, then eased into a semblance of relaxation. “Why not?”
She closed her eyes a moment, wishing she could lie. “Because of Judah.”
He rolled onto his side, looking down at her as his hand stroked her belly. “Honey, I’ve never blamed you for Judah.”
She studied him disbelievingly. His gaze was steady, his eyes seemingly calm—but something lurked behind that calmness, she could see it. Something dark. Something angry. Directed not at her, but elsewhere.
At Judah. Annie’s heart sank.
“Tommy…” Pulling away from him, she rolled to a seat on the mat. “You can’t just blame Judah. It wasn’t like he raped me.”
“He took advantage of you.”
She shook her head, almost hating herself. Why couldn’t she let it go? Why couldn’t she just accept what Tommy was so clearly offering?
But she couldn’t. Despite herself, she kept remembering the way Judah had looked at the pool hall—dark and surly, like an exhausted bull at bay. He hadn’t looked at her as she’d left with Tommy. He hadn’t looked at anything. He’d simply stood, his shoulders slumped, staring at nothing in the middle of an empty dance floor.
He’d looked defeated, dammit. Broken in some fundamental way that nothing would ever fix.
She couldn’t take what Tommy was offering her. Not at Judah’s expense.
And she couldn’t let Tommy keep blaming him, either.
“I wanted him, Tommy. It wasn’t just a crush.” She glanced away, unable to bear the look in his eyes, the cold watchfulness, the anger she knew her next words would provoke.
“I loved him.”
The house stood pale in the moonlight, its chalky white paint peeling in leprous patches. It looked like a skeleton, Judah thought distantly, nothing but bones with all the life sucked out of them. Bleached and dry.
A fifth of Jim Beam was nestled between his thighs. Without taking his gaze from the house, he unscrewed the lid, hefted it, took a long swallow.
Damn her. Damn her for ever having come back into their lives.
In his mind’s eye he could see the two of them laughing, springing down the front steps like colts turned out to pasture. Holding hands. Running through the fields together while he, Judah, followed silently behind.
“Mind your brother, Judah!”
And he had, all those years. Watching over both Tommy and Annie as they grew together, laughed together, played together… Even when Annie had dragged him into their games, he’d still been the outsider, basking like some misplaced night creature in the friendly warmth of her sun.
He wanted her. Christ, he wanted her so badly it felt like being torn in two.
The abandoned house wavered in his vision, and for the first time in twenty years Judah found himself crying. It wasn’t just want, he admitted. He loved her. Loved her in a way he knew he’d never get over.
And she loved Tommy.
He’d always known it deep inside himself, no matter how hard he’d tried to hide from the truth. But seeing them together tonight, he couldn’t push it away any longer. It had been there in every line of her body, in the way she’d leaned into Tommy, trusting him completely…
She loved him, and there was nothing Judah could do about it.
Wearily, he hefted the half-empty bottle again, then looked at it in sudden disgust. Unrolling his truck window, he chucked it into the darkness, hearing it thud against the hard-packed dirt.
Liquor wasn’t going to cure what ailed him. He doubted anything ever would.
It had been so easy to blame her all these years, lying in his bed listening to Tommy cry and feeling his own heart crack with anger and grief. And how had he handled it? By casting her as some heartless femme fatale who’d used them both and left them broken-hearted. Even this afternoon he’d still been clinging to that conviction—clinging to it so tightly he couldn’t let go long enough to grab at the one chance she’d offered.
“It’s good to see you, Judah.”
Those gentle words haunted him.
His gaze swept back over the house, noting the sagging porch, the missing shingles on the roof. The house seemed to glow in the thin moonlight, translucent as an empty shell.
A shell, he thought miserably. Just like me.
Part of him had been watching for headlights to come up behind him, Tommy’s truck turning off Route 32 as he drove home.
After the second hour, Judah had finally admitted Tommy wasn’t coming home.
It didn’t matter, he told himself heavily, reaching for the truck’s ignition. She’d be happy with Tommy. She always had been.
And this time he wasn’t going to get in their way.
Tommy’s head jerked back, his eyes growing colder. “No, you didn’t.”
Annie sighed. “Yeah, Tommy, I did.”
How could she explain? Judah had always been so self-contained, not like Tommy who’d been there for her every day of her life, as open and generous as… As a Black-eyed Susan, she thought, feeling the sting of tears. She swallowed them back, searching for the words to say what she had to.
“You and me, Tommy, we always had each other. It was different for Judah.”
“I know that.” His eyes glittered like ice in the darkness.
“Do you? There were no kids his age out where we were. And even later, when he did start making friends, half the time he was saddled with us. Not exactly the baggage a teenage boy wants to be carrying.”
Tommy folded his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. She could see the muscles leap as he clenched his jaw. “So?”
“So Judah didn’t get to be on the football team the way you did. He didn’t get to take a girl to the Fourth of July fireworks. He got to take us.”
Tommy was scowling now, but Annie kept going. “And when we were old enough to look after ourselves, he was already working with your dad out on the ranch. How much room do you think that left him for making friends?”
Tommy shoved to his feet, hunting for his jeans. His back to her, he started pulling them on.
“He was lonely, Tommy. He’s always been lonely. And have you ever heard him complain? Even once?”
“No.” His mutter was low, surly. He yanked on a boot.
She was ripping him apart inside all over again. She was doing exactly what she’d sworn to herself she wouldn’t do. But damn it, she wasn’t going to let him put the blame on Judah. “Judah never took anything that I didn’t freely offer.”
Tommy’s back went rigid. His jaw clamped like a vise. Reaching down, he found his other boot and stomped it on.
She wanted to go to him so badly. Slide her arms around his waist, rest her cheek against his broad shoulder blades, hold him until the tension ran out of his body and he softened again and kissed her.
Damn it, why couldn’t she just have kept her mouth shut?
Because it wouldn’t have been right, and you know it.
Yes, she did. And for the first time she faced the fact that it was never going to be right. There was never going to be a happy ending here.
If she went to him now, she’d be betraying Judah every bit as much
as she’d once betrayed Tommy. Whatever happiness she and Tommy might find would be based on a lie—that Judah had been the one at fault.
But it had been her. It had been her all along.
Annie flinched, remembering Judah’s harsh bellow. “Because I didn’t trust you not to hurt him again!” He’d been right, she admitted, feeling her stomach knot with guilt. God, he’d been so totally right.
Tommy stood rigid in the shadows, his back still to her. “So you love him.” The words were flat, almost toneless. “You should have told me, Annie.”
“I did,” she whispered. “You wouldn’t listen.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, well…” He glanced over his shoulder at her, then looked away. “I guess I just didn’t want to admit you didn’t love me.”
But I do! Tears burned her eyes as he turned and walked out the doorway. She fought them, biting her lips on the words she wanted to call after him. I do love you, Tommy!
Except that wasn’t how it worked, was it? Everybody knew—you found the one man you loved, and you married him. You were faithful to him. You bore his children.
You didn’t sleep with his big brother and fall in love with them both.
From the hallway came a harsh clang as the outer door fell shut.
Oh, fuck it, Annie thought, and let the tears fall.
Chapter Eight
Tommy drove like a wild man, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were aching. His chest was tight. His throat felt squeezed by an iron fist. He knotted his brow, clenching his jaw. He wouldn’t cry, damn it—he wouldn’t!
How could a man do that to his own brother? He didn’t care what Annie said—Judah was still to blame. Even if she’d started it, even if she’d stripped herself naked and laid down before him…
His jaw locked like a pit bull’s, and he pressed the gas pedal harder. The air roaring through the open windows set his denim shirt flapping—he hadn’t bothered to retrieve the T-shirt he’d left in the field house. He wished Judah were here right now, standing in front of him as he had at the pool hall—it’d be a lot more than words he’d hurl at the bastard.
And Annie loved him. She loved that lying, backstabbing prick.
She can damn well have him, then. Tommy drove faster, eager to be out of there. He was damned if he’d stick around to watch Judah gloat.
I hope you’re happy, Ju. Congratulations. You got the girl, you double-crossing fuck.
Roaring up Route 32, he slewed into the ranch. His tires spit gravel as he zoomed past the old house. Nothing ever changes, does it, Ju? You just had to have her. Even though you knew exactly how much I love her, you just had to take her away from me again.
He should have left that first time. He’d tried to. Only his mother’s insistence had kept him here all these years.
This time, nothing was going to stop him.
He topped the next rise, went around a long curve. The creek ran beside it, gray and sullen in the pre-dawn darkness, following the drive for a while before it wandered off through the bushes. Coming into the meadow, he squealed the truck to a stop and parked by the new house. It wasn’t until he got out that he noticed Judah’s truck wasn’t there.
That was fine—he didn’t want to see the bastard anyway. Slamming the truck door behind him, he stomped up the steps and into the house. Going straight to his bedroom, he started jerking open drawers, blindly shoving handfuls of clothes into a duffel.
“God a’mighty, Tommy! What do you think you’re doing?”
Mrs. Ambinder stood near the open door in her nightgown, watching his movements. Her face was puffy with sleep, but her eyes were sharp and aware.
“Don’t try to stop me, Ma.” Tommy glanced at his mother. “I’m leaving.”
“Horse puckeys.” Folding her arms, she closed the door behind her, gazing at her son with a flinty stare. “At least tell me what’s gotten into you this time.”
He laughed harshly. “What do you think?”
Her eyes widened. “Annie’s back?” Tommy scowled and looked away. “So that’s why Ju seemed so troubled yesterday.”
He didn’t want to talk about Judah. He didn’t want to talk about any of it. Shouldering the duffel, he made to move past her, but Mrs. Ambinder planted herself in his path like a stout, gray-haired battleship. “Now you just stop making a fool of yourself this instant, young man.”
“I’m not, Ma. I’m leaving.”
“Why?”
“Because she loves him!” he shouted. “Okay? She loves him, and she doesn’t love me!”
He glared at his mother, expecting her to try and comfort him. As if she could. Instead, Mrs. Ambinder snapped, “Don’t be stupid. Of course Annie loves you. That girl’s loved you since you were both still in diapers.”
“That’s not what I mean, Ma.”
“I know what you meant.” His mother stood unmoving, her fists planted firmly on her ample hips. “Thomas Andrew Ambinder, do you have any idea how selfish you’re acting?”
He opened his mouth to protest, and she snapped, “Shut your mouth and sit down. There’s things I should’ve said to you twenty years ago, and you’re going to hear them. I said sit down, boy!”
Shocked into obedience, he did so, the strap of the duffel sliding from his fingers. His breath shuddered in his throat, and immediately his mother softened. She sat next to him on the bed, taking his hands. “I love you. You know that. But Tommy, you’re spoiled. Ain’t your fault, maybe, but still, there it is. You’re thirty-seven years old, Tommy, and you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum over a toy.”
His head snapped back, color burning high on his cheekbones.
“Spare me,” she said dryly. “Don’t even start about how much you love her. I’ve watched you both fretting over that girl since she first grew titties. Did you ever once stop to think about her feelings? Either of you?” Her gazed pierced him, lashing him to the bone. “I swear, it’s a wonder you boys haven’t pulled her to pieces between you.”
Tommy looked away, flushing, then turned pale as he remembered. “I left her there, Ma,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Left her where?”
“At the field house.”
She shot to her feet, shocked almost speechless. “You mean you… And then you left her there? Tommy Ambinder!”
He started to get up, but she pushed him back down. “Now you wait a minute! I’m not done yet. Let me speak my piece before you go charging off to her rescue.” She waited till he subsided, eyeing him sternly. “I don’t know exactly what all happened last time, but I think I’ve got a pretty good idea. And before you go blaming Judah again, you think about this—what if it had been Judah who kissed Annie first?”
Fury clenched his gut at the very idea.
“What if it had been him she was going out with, while you had to watch? Wanting her, being near her, never able to say anything. What if she’d offered you one crumb of kindness? Would you have said no?”
“Yes, damn it, I would’ve!”
Her gaze held his. “Are you sure?”
Tommy opened his mouth, then shut it again.
She nodded, satisfied. “I thought not.”
“But, Ma…”
He looked at her in consternation, and she raised an eyebrow. “Why aren’t I mad at her? Is that what you’re asking?”
He nodded mutely. Mrs. Ambinder sat back down beside him, her face thoughtful. “To tell the truth, I was. At least for a while. But I know that girl, Tommy. Heck, I practically raised her. Annie hasn’t got a mean bone in her body. And she’s no tramp—she wasn’t just messing with you, or with Judah either. I’ve got a few words of my own for that boy too, believe me.” Her gaze snapped to the closed door, then came back to Tommy.
“So what do I do?” he asked hoarsely.
She sat for a while in silence, thinking. Once or twice, she shook her head. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost regretful. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” Sighing, she rose to her feet a
nd went to Tommy’s window, gazing out at the soft wash of pink lighting the eastern horizon. Her back to him, she continued, “All I know is love’s a rare and precious thing. A gift that’s always taken away from us too soon.”
There was a catch in her voice, a hint of old tears. Tommy stood and put his arms around his mother, hugging her tight. She turned and gave him a quick squeeze back, then headed for the door, surreptitiously wiping a tear from her cheek.
“One thing more.” She stopped at the door, looking back. “Your brother gave up his entire childhood for you. He built this house for the both of us, to get us away from our grief. There is nothing on this earth he wouldn’t do for you, except stop loving Annie. And that’s something I doubt you could do, either. You think about that before you go charging off.”
She closed the door gently behind her. Slowly, Tommy sank back down on the foot of his bed. The instinctive urge to rush back to Annie had faded—she wouldn’t be at the field house anymore, he was certain. It was only eight blocks from there to the boarding house. Undoubtedly, she’d have walked back by now.
He was mortified that he’d left her there. It was inexcusable, no matter how angry he’d been.
“Thomas Andrew Ambinder, do you have any idea how selfish you’re acting?”
He flushed. It was true. All these years, all he’d thought about was his own hurt—he’d never once stopped to think that Judah might be hurting just as badly.
Yeah, well, she wasn’t his girl, was she? What right did Judah have to be so damn hurt?
His mother’s voice answered him. “What if it had been him she was going out with, while you had to watch? Wanting her, being near her, never able to say anything…”
Tommy scowled.
Annie’s voice chimed in. “He was lonely, Tommy. He’s always been lonely. And have you ever heard him complain? Even once?”
No. Instead, he’d picked up the reins from their father, running the ranch, shouldering the responsibilities. Sure, Tommy worked right alongside him—but who was it stayed up late worrying when the bills needed to be paid?
“I love you. You know that. But, Tommy, you’re spoiled.”