by Sierra Dafoe
He was spoiled, Tommy realized. He’d grown up never once knowing what it was like to be lonely. Annie had always been right there, beside him. Now for the first time, he tried to imagine it—having no one to talk to. No one to play with. No one to tell his fears and worries to.
How much strength had Judah had to develop, growing up that way?
“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.”
No, he couldn’t. He’d loved Annie since forever—and she did love him back, a love so steady and constant he’d assumed it would always be there for him.
Him, and only him.
Tommy writhed, his mother’s words ringing again in his ears.
“Thomas Andrew Ambinder, do you have any idea how selfish you’re acting?”
Try as he might, he couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Judah. Couldn’t imagine how his brother had felt, having Annie come to him, offering him love and affection. Offering everything he’d hungered for every day of his childhood.
His mother’s question was unanswerable, he realized. He didn’t know—he couldn’t know—what he would have done.
But he did know one thing. He knew he owed his brother an apology.
The rising sun stung Judah’s eyes, and he blinked, rubbing them. He was tired—tired all the way to his forty-year-old bones. The hills around him blushed pink with the dawn, and he gazed at them wearily as he drove back toward the ranch.
He’d driven for hours, it seemed like, accomplishing nothing but burning half the gas he’d put in the truck when he’d bought the Jim Beam. He’d been nearly to the North Dakota border before he’d turned around.
Where had he thought he was going?
Someplace where I wouldn’t have to miss Annie, I guess.
Judah grimaced. There was no such place.
Besides, he was needed here—by Ma, if not by Tommy. He had no right to walk away from his responsibilities just because things got hard.
It would be hard, he admitted, seeing Annie with Tommy—as hard as it had been when they were just kids. Maybe even harder.
That don’t make it undoable.
He sighed, turning into the ranch drive. As with so many things, his father had been right. And if what he needed to do was be happy for Tommy, then God damn it, that’s what he’d do.
He was startled to see Annie’s car parked by the old house, pulled up near the porch as if she were inside. What was she doing there? Had she come here with Tommy? But he didn’t see Tommy’s white F-150 anywhere.
Pulling over, Judah got out of the Silverado. Every muscle in his body seemed to protest as he walked up the porch steps. Christ, he was tired. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep going.
“Annie?” He opened the front door and walked through the downstairs. There was no sign of her. But then why was her car here? “Annie?” he called again, louder.
Only silence answered him.
Heading up the stairs, he was struck by the odd juxtaposition of strangeness and familiarity—the smooth oak banister, steps that his feet knew so well he could’ve run up them blindfold… But the house echoed emptily around him, leaving him feeling like an intruder in his own home.
It’s not home. Not anymore.
Except the new house wouldn’t ever be home, either. It was a house, that was all. A roof over their heads. One that wasn’t haunted by ghosts and memories.
The door to Tommy’s old room was ajar. Pushing it open, Judah saw Annie standing near the window. Her back was to him. She didn’t move as he entered. For one split second, he thought she was a mirage, a phantom born of his exhaustion and longing.
Then he saw her shoulders quivering.
“Annie?” He started toward her, but she shook her head, stopping him where he was. There was something so forlorn about the way she simply stood there, refusing to look at him, hugging herself. “Annie, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head again. “Don’t ask.”
So he didn’t. He waited. He saw her take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Tommy asked me to marry him.”
Judah swallowed hard, twice. “Well, that’s good,” he said awkwardly. “I’m sure you’ll both…”
She turned, her gaze dark and unreadable. “I told him no.”
Judah closed his eyes, hating himself for the relief washing through him. He was better than this, damn it! At least he wanted to be. Moving closer, he said softly, “Tommy’s a good man, Annie. Maybe you should think about it.”
“No.” Just the one flat word as she turned away.
“Why?”
“God, don’t ask me that, Judah!”
He could hear the tears in her voice, but this time he wasn’t stopping. “Annie, tell me.”
“Fine.” She flicked an angry glance over her shoulder. “I said no because of you.”
Judah tilted his head back, fighting sudden tears. Oh, Christ. “Annie…”
She cut him off brusquely. “Don’t worry. I just came to say goodbye, that’s all.”
“To me?”
She laughed through her tears. “Maybe. To the house, really.” She glanced at him again, her face pale. “It was like home to me too once, you know.”
He nodded. It had been—it seemed like there’d never been a day of their childhood when Annie hadn’t been there. Having lunch with Tommy. Helping Ma with the dinner. After she’d left, the house hadn’t been the same.
It was more than the stiff silence between him and Tommy. It was as if, when she’d left, she’d taken the heart of this house with her.
And was about to do so again, he realized as she turned toward the door.
“Annie, don’t go.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
When she looked at him this time, there was a hint of fire behind her tears. “Why? You could hardly wait to get shut of me yesterday. You barely even looked at me! Why should you care if I leave or not?”
Because I miss you, damn it! I’ve missed you for twenty years! But he couldn’t say that. He had no right to. She was right—he’d been so cold to her yesterday it was a wonder she’d even gone to the pool hall.
“I know you…care for Tommy,” he said. He couldn’t bring himself to say the word. Damn it, yes he could. “And he loves you too.”
“I know.”
“Then marry him, Annie. Don’t worry about me.” There was an admission in his words, and he knew it. “Don’t you think I’d rather see the two of you happy than…”
Than all three of us be miserable? Judah broke off, flushing, and looked away.
“Judah…” She turned to him, facing him squarely. “It’s not that simple. You’re right—I do care for Tommy. The only problem is I care for you too.”
Judah’s head snapped around, his eyes widening. Her blunt words seemed to tear through him, stripping away his defenses.
“That’s why I have to leave, Ju, don’t you see?” Her eyes were pleading with him, begging for understanding. “I love you, Judah. But I love Tommy too.”
Judah closed his eyes, feeling shame wash through him. How had he ever convinced himself this woman was some kind of femme fatale? She was just Annie—sweet, warm-hearted Annie. The only thing she’d ever done wrong was to try and give them both what they’d needed from her.
And in return for her generosity, they’d done their best to rip her in two. He could see it in her eyes, in her torn, frantic expression. The agony in her hazel eyes was too much for him. Reaching out, he slid his arms around her.
“Annie, I’m sorry. Christ, I’m so sorry.”
She laughed slightly, her face buried against her chest. “Don’t be. If I hadn’t—”
“Don’t.” Judah shook his head sharply, cutting her off. It was bad enough, carrying the guilt he had for betraying Tommy. To know that she regretted that night…
He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t say
that, Annie. Don’t ever say that. What you gave me… Oh Christ, Annie!"
He was gazing down at her, his dark eyes blazing. The passion in them seemed to burn through his defenses, laying bare the forlorn, hopeless hunger beneath.
He still loved her. Understanding hit her like a tsunami. Despite his coldness yesterday, despite his harsh words to her in the pool hall—Judah still loved her.
Annie sagged against him, feeling a weakness in her knees that had nothing to do with her exhaustion and everything to do with the feel of him against her, his rock-hard arms cradling her, his work-callused hands gently stroking her hair.
It was the gentleness that undid her, the silent admission of all the things he’d never said. She’d known, she realized suddenly. On some level, she’d known the second he’d walked into the pool hall.
He was trembling in her arms, his powerful body shaking even as he held her. Turning her head, she kissed his neck, then his cheek. He sighed and turned his face toward her, his eyes closed, his mouth seeking blindly. Their lips grazed jawlines, cheekbones, temples…
When their mouths finally met, it felt like coming home.
His breath hitched in his lungs, and she could feel tears on his cheeks, dampening her fingers. Crying. He was crying.
Oh, Judah.
She kissed him harder, burying her hands in his hair, wanting to chase away his sadness and exhaustion, wanting to express all the love she had for him in this one kiss.
She would have to, she thought despairingly. There would never be more.
Their tongues brushed together, and Judah gave a hoarse sob, the sound seeming to well up from the very depths of his soul. Holding her tighter, he kissed her with such hunger, such passion, such need it made her heart ache even as it set her pulse racing.
God, why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t she simply have loved one or the other? It felt like a cruel, colossal joke, a cosmic prank—one that left all three of them broken.
Crying herself now, she kissed him deeply, twining her tongue with his, wanting to make the pain stop for one single second. Wanting to lose herself so far in Judah that she forgot everything else; her loneliness, her grief…
He held her tightly, as if he, too, was determined to give her everything—all the years of wanting, all the unspoken passions—in one fierce, fiery kiss. His mouth moved over hers, consuming, demanding—but even his demands were a surrender, a giving in to his own long-buried needs.
It was the same kiss they’d shared under the bleachers, twenty years ago. Only riper now, richer, less hesitant, more forceful. They weren’t kids anymore, and it showed in the confidence with which Judah touched her, his hands caressing her bottom, sliding up her arms to cup her face…
He pulled back slightly, his eyes watching her, dark and questioning. Slowly, he reached for the top button of her blouse.
Oh, Jesus. Yes. Anything you want, Ju. Annie closed her eyes, letting her head drop back as she felt his fingers against her breastbone. Her heart was pounding underneath, so hard she was sure he could hear it. His fingers trembled, sliding down to the next button. His breath rasped in his throat.
Then she felt him hesitate, his hand pausing against her. Annie whimpered slightly, opening her eyes.
He wasn’t looking at her. He was gazing beyond her, his jaw muscles clenching.
Whipping her head around, she saw Tommy standing in the open door.
Chapter Nine
It’s October, and Tommy is sweaty and elated. They’ve just won the third game of the season against the Richie High Royals. Tugging off his helmet, he scans the bleachers, grinning, wanting Annie to share in his excitement.
He can’t spot her. It shouldn’t be hard; the crowd’s not that big. Puzzled, Tommy goes through the customary ritual of shaking hands with the Royals. He looks for her again as he jogs to the field house.
He changes quickly, knowing she’ll be waiting for him outside—she always does, despite the fact that she’s been moody recently. Distracted. It bothers him that she won’t tell him what’s wrong.
It bothers him more when she’s not outside, leaning against the cyclone fence in her usual spot. She must be at the truck, then, with Judah.
For some reason the thought makes him scowl.
He strides along the sidelines, waving absently to his teammates. Girls stop to congratulate him, giggling and preening. He smiles politely, glancing around. The second he gets free of them, he ducks behind the bleachers and walks quickly toward the parking lot.
He is so intent on his goal he almost doesn’t see the two figures under the bleachers, their bodies yearning toward each other as if pulled by gravity. With a sickening jolt, he recognizes Judah’s jacket—and the hands tangled deep in Judah’s dark hair.
A sickly sense of betrayal floods his gut. No. It’s not possible. It’s not…
“Annie?”
She gasps, pulling away from Judah, her face draining of color as she whirls toward him.
Later, he will scream at her. Drive her, crying, into the night. For now, though, he can’t speak. Can’t think. Can’t seem to breathe, hardly, through the hot, heavy rage flooding through him, blurring his sight as he launches himself at Judah, his fists already flying.
The same mindless fury was still there, Tommy realized. It had curled his hands into fists as he’d watched them from the doorway, so wrapped up in each other they hadn’t even heard him come up the stairs.
There’d been such hunger in their kiss, such ravenous intensity, as if they’d been starving for each other for years…
He’d forgotten that, hadn’t he? The passion. The yearning. He’d made himself forget, Tommy admitted. Almost the second he’d seen them under the bleachers all those years ago, he’d started rewriting the scene in his head, making it Judah who had kissed her, Judah who was at fault…
But the look on Annie’s face now had held Tommy frozen. There’d been so much longing in it, so much grief, so much need. He’d watched as Judah had raised his hand to her shirt, noting the way her eyes had fallen shut and her face had flushed in arousal.
It was that arousal which had stopped him, holding him spellbound as he’d watched Judah undo the top button on her blouse. His hand had been shaking as he slid it down to the second.
“Thomas Andrew Ambinder, do you have any idea how selfish you’re acting?”
Yes. Yes, he did. For the first time, he understood exactly how much he’d taken from them.
It was heartbreaking. Undeniable.
It was the most erotic thing Tommy had ever seen.
He’d stood transfixed, his heart racing, his cock throbbing in his jeans at the sight of Annie’s flushed cheeks, the way her arched neck forced her breasts up, her erect nipples pressing against the fabric of her blouse just inches away from Judah’s hand…
Now they stared at him, their faces pale with guilt, as frozen as he was in a moment that seemed to stretch out forever. He saw Judah’s jaw clench, his hand still poised above Annie’s blouse, his muscles tightening as he braced himself for his brother’s outburst.
Yes. Yes, that’s what he’d done before, wasn’t it? He’d thrown himself at Judah, ignoring Annie’s screams, ignoring everything but the thick, heavy rage surging through his blood…
It was still there. He could feel it. A demanding pressure in the back of his mind, urging him to attack Judah, pummel him into non-existence.
“There is nothing on this earth he wouldn’t do for you, except stop loving Annie.”
Tommy pushed back against his rage, trying to think. That was one more thing he’d forgotten, wasn’t it? That Judah did love him. Loved him enough that he’d fought against his desire for Annie for years.
And without ever even guessing at Judah’s long, silent struggle, he’d blamed his brother unequivocally for something that it was obvious neither of them could help.
“I know that girl, Tommy. Heck, I practically raised her. Annie hasn’t got a mean bone in her body.”
> Annie’s hazel eyes stared into his. Her face was ashen, her expression almost frantic. She seemed poised like a bird on the edge of flight—and this time, Tommy knew instinctively, she’d never come back.
“I swear, it’s a wonder you boys haven’t pulled her to pieces between you.”
It was true, Tommy admitted. They’d tugged her back and forth between them like dogs fighting over a bone. Ripping her heart apart until she couldn’t stand anymore.
Oh, Christ. They’d done that to her. He’d done that to her, Tommy amended privately—and had Annie stopped loving him, even though he’d abandoned her at the field house? Had he felt deprived somehow while they’d been making love? Was the memory of those moments with Annie any less special just because she loved Judah too?
“I love you. You know that. But, Tommy, you’re spoiled.”
And like the rotten apple in the barrel, he’d spoiled the love between them as well. Poisoning it with his jealousy, his possessiveness, his insistence that Annie had to love only him…
She couldn’t, Tommy realized. She couldn’t stop loving Judah—anymore than either of them could stop loving her. Even now, seeing Annie in Judah’s arms, he wanted her so badly his whole body ached with it.
“All I know is love’s a rare and precious thing, Tommy. A gift that’s always taken away from us too soon.”
And if he couldn’t let go of his jealousy, Tommy knew, they were both going to lose her. Only this time, it would be forever.
Annie stared at Tommy, her heart beating wildly. His denim shirt was unbuttoned, his T-shirt missing. She could see his hard chest, his clenched fists, the tight readiness of his stance.
God, why hadn’t she left the way she’d meant to? Walking home from the field house, she’d faced the bitter truth—that nothing would ever change, could ever change. That the only thing left to do was leave, as quickly as possible.
Why oh why had she ever given in to the urge to come back to the house?
She felt Judah tense beside her, bracing himself for Tommy’s onslaught.