Need You Tonight

by Marquita Valentine

  “Anything.”

  “If something should happen—”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

  He smiles tenderly, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “If something happens to me, I want you to promise to go on with your life. Be happy and find someone worthy of you.”

  “But you are my life. You make me happy, and you’re worthy of me.”

  “I know, beautiful girl. And I’m a lucky bastard to have tricked you into marrying me.” He winks at me.

  “Oh, you mean man. Stop teasing me with that kind of talk,” I laugh.

  He starts to walk away. “I meant what I said, B. We’ll talk more later.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t have come,” Donna murmurs.

  I snap out of my memories. “No. I’m glad you came, because I have something to give you, and I’ll hope you’ll understand why I have to give it back.” Tears clog my throat. “I loved Braden so much. I want you to know that.”

  Donna puts her hand over Frank’s. “We know you loved him, and he loved you. We love you, Brooklyn.”

  “But, will you still love me if I give you his things?” They stare at me while the tears I’ve been holding back overrun my lashes and fall down my cheeks. “I can’t live with them anymore. Every day, for the last two years, I’ve stared at his picture and wished it could love me. Wished that he would miraculously show up at my door and say he’d been kidnapped. That the body we buried wasn’t his. It was a mix-up.”

  “Oh Brooklyn,” Donna says, moving her hand to grab mine. She squeezes it tight.

  “But that day never came. Mentally, I knew this all along, but my heart wouldn’t let me forget it. It wouldn’t allow me to live.”

  Frank clears his throat, dropping his hand. “I guess we haven’t helped with our monthly visits.”

  I shake my head. “At first I loved them, they helped keep Braden real and fresh in my mind. When we’d talk, it was like he really wasn’t gone, just on a mission. But every time, after y’all would leave, I’d crawl into bed and stay there for days, missing him.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  I look at Frank. “Because I didn’t want to take him away from you with my selfishness.”

  “Your what?” Donna all but shouts, and I jump a little. She shakes her head, and then pulls me close. “My poor darling. You have brought us nothing but joy. Nothing but healing. We’ve been the selfish ones. Yes, we lost a son, but at least we had each other to turn to. You had no one. No one.”

  “I had Soon Lin.” But not my parents. They didn’t understand. They couldn’t understand. Honestly, they never tried and, like a dutiful daughter trying to please everyone, I never pushed the issue.

  “That’s not enough,” Frank declares, pulling off his cap. “You’re moving to Florida with us, and that’s final.”

  Laughter bubbles up through my tears. “What would you do with a daughter-in-law?”

  Donna lets me go and walks over to the boxes. She opens one, touching the contents and closing her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, they’re full of tears, but she smiles. “We’d love you, just like Braden would have wanted.”

  And now for the hard part. “Thank you for your offer, but I like living in Forrestville.”

  “Then you’ll love Florida,” Donna says.

  “I have a great job.”

  “Economy’s better in Florida,” Frank says. “No state income tax.”

  “And a really nice house,” I add, hoping they’ll stop trying to persuade me to move, before I finally give them the real reason why I couldn’t possibly leave.

  “Ours has a swimming pool,” Donna offers.

  “I met someone. Someone I love and loves me back,” I blurt, and then brace myself for their reaction. “He fixes stuff for me around the house and cooks me dinner. Takes me out on dates and brings me flowers.”

  Stunned silence greets me, until Frank, the gruffest Marine I’ve ever known, breaks down in tears. “Best fucking news I’ve heard since Donna got a clear report.” He swipes at the corner of his eyes with his knuckles. He chuckles a bit. “Braden made us swear to look out for you, and it’s been a damn honor to do it, but honey, we were worried as hell that you’d never find someone again.”

  “It’s why we came down here. We thought moving out of state would help. My friend Betty Swartz—you remember her from the wedding—her nephew is a handyman for the resort. He’s a snappy dresser, owns his house, and—”

  “I have my own handyman.” A blush heats my cheeks.

  “This is good,” Frank says. “I love my son and wish like hell he was here, but this is good.”

  I hug Frank’s neck. “I do too. Thank you for gifting the world with him.”

  “Oh crap. I’m too late,” Rowan says from behind.

  I let go of Frank. “What are you doing here?”

  “Parker’s going to kill me,” she mutters.

  “Too late for what?” Donna says. “We’ve enough food to feed an army.”

  “Corps, sweet cheeks.”

  “You know what I mean.” She turns to Rowan and me, rolling her eyes. “Forty years together and he still thinks he knows everything.”

  “I know the difference between a Marine and a soldier.”

  “Marines suck,” Rowan says cheerfully, and my eyes go wide.

  “What she meant is—”

  “Marines suck. My ex joined up after serving time. He’s a douche.” She smiles, then says, “Bless his heart.”

  Donna gives her an odd look. “Yes. Bless him. Come to the kitchen while Frank and I cook up our famous chili.”

  Rowan grabs my hand before I can follow. “Everything okay?”

  I nod.

  “You look like hell.”

  “But I feel like I’m finally free.”

  “You’re really moving to Florida?”

  “What—no!” I wrinkle my nose, and then eye her. “Were you eavesdropping?”

  “I was listening for my cue to save the day, but then I got five thousand texts from the nurse who helps Miss Myrtle during the day and had to answer them. So, I only caught the part about a hot handyman in Florida.” She smiles sheepishly at me. “Sorry?”

  “You should be.” Winking, I lightly punch her shoulder. “And since you didn’t overhear this part—I’m never leaving Forrestville. There are too many people I love living here.”

  “I assume one of those people is me,” Rowan says, linking her arms through mine.

  “Nah. I was totally thinking of Boyd.” She elbows me, and I wince. “The guy who delivers parts every Tuesday?” Her fingers jab into my side, and I gasp. “Fine, fine, fine! It’s you and Parker. I love y’all. Swear!”

  “That’s more like it.” With a pleased smile, she stops her torture. “I’m glad you’re staying.”

  “Me, too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Parker

  It’s almost eight pm and Brooklyn has yet to text me. Rowan, the cryptic woman, had only texted me with a fist bump emoticon.

  Headlights shine in the front window of my house and I get up to investigate. Brooklyn parks her SUV beside my truck and gets out. She’s wearing a jean skirt and a pink top. Her hair is in loose curls that seem to bounce around her shoulders as she walks to me.

  I open the door and she walks inside.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I came to you,” she says with an uncertain look on her face.

  “Your in-laws leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “How was their visit?” I ask, trying to be patient when all I want to know is if she went through with it.

  “They got there right after you left.” Her gaze slides away. “They asked me to move to Florida with them.”

  My heart stops. Literally stops. “And you said?”

  “That I had a nice job and a pretty house. But they countered with no state income tax and an in-ground pool.”

  “Who’d want to compete with that?”

  �
�I don’t know. They also told me about Betty Swartz’s nephew—that he’s a snazzy dresser, owns his own house, and has a good job as the resident handyman of their resort.”

  I can only imagine what this asshole looks like. Some preppy, white dude with—I give myself a mental shake. No way I’m thinking about Betty Swartz’s nephew. And there’s no way I’m going to let Brooklyn go without a fight.

  “I don’t give a damn about her nephew or Florida,” I snarl.

  “I didn’t think you would, so that’s why I told them I already had my very own handyman who fixes the things that break around my house, cooks me dinners, brings me flowers, writes me love letters, and sends in reinforcements to help me get through an afternoon that was potentially painful.”

  I swallow. “You said all that?”

  She nods, taking a step closer to me. Taking my hand in hers, she opens my clenched fist and presses a kiss to the center of my palm. “I told them that I love you, and that you loved me.”

  “How did they—were they okay?”

  “Yes.” She kisses my palm again, and then works her way over to my fingers, taking one in her mouth and swirling her tongue around. “I told them the truth about us—how could it not be okay?” She tilts her head to one side. “There were lots of tears—some were happy, some were sad, and others were…well, a combination. But in the end, because of you, I was able to finally break free of my past. I’m all unstuck now.”

  Her words hit me hard, not only because she’s so damn happy and proud of herself in this moment, but because I’m still lying to her. I still haven’t told her the truth, and it’s hanging over me like an ax ready to fall at a moments notice.

  “Brooklyn, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Can it wait?” she asks. She strips off her top and skirt, only to stand before me wearing nothing at all. “I want to celebrate tonight, and I wore your favorite outfit.”

  My mind goes blank at the sight of her round breasts. Her pink nipples are already hardening in the cool night air. I run the tip of my finger over one, and she moans a little.

  “It can wait.” Then I pick her up and carry her to my bedroom.

  *

  My phone buzzes at three am. Usually I’d be asleep right now, but I’m almost done with round three of making Brooklyn come on my tongue. She cries out my name, her thighs flexing against my shoulders while I position myself at her entrance. She’s wet, hot and ready for me as I thrust inside.

  My phone rings again, this time with Cole’s signature ringtone. I know it has to be an emergency for him to call at this time.

  “Damn it,” I growl, pulling out of her. Brooklyn looks at me, bewildered, as I answer the phone. I lay my hand over it. “My brother. I think something’s wrong.” Something had better be wrong, like Rae got pissed at him and set his balls on fire.

  She sits up, her tits bouncing, and I have to look away. There’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate when I have her in my bed.

  “Parker.”

  “This better not be a butt dial.”

  “It’s mom. She relapsed. Ford wants us to come now. I land in Charlotte in thirty. I have a ticket for you on the next flight out. You have three hours to get here and through security. I’ll text you the flight info so you can check in before you leave.”

  My phone buzzes with his incoming text. “Got it. I’ll be there.” I end our call and roll to one side.

  “What’s wrong?” Brooklyn lays down beside me, her hand inches away from my now semi-erect dick.

  “My mom’s relapsed, and Ford wants us to fly out tonight instead of next week. I don’t know if it’s serious or not since it’s happened so many times before.” But to Crystal’s credit, she’d gone two years without using again.

  “Then go.”

  I glance at her. “Way to stroke my ego.”

  Her mouth drops open. “You need to get on a plane to go see your sick mother and you want to finish having sex first?”

  “Kinda.” Turning away from her, I stare at my walls, at the cracks and dents and peeling paint that tell story of my life. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever had here.”

  “In your room?”

  I lean up on my elbows and shake my head. “This house.” Getting out of bed, I rid myself of the condom I no longer need and start to pack.

  After a minute, Brooklyn joins me, handing me clothes until I ask her to stop. She lays her head against me. “I love you.”

  Zipping my suitcase shut, I turn to her. So much love shines in her eyes that I can hardly stand it. Today, she put her past behind her and made a decision to be with me, wholly in the present and the foreseeable future.

  “I love you, Brooklyn Reeves, and when I get back, I’m going to marry you.” After I tell you the truth, and I’ll convince you to move away with me.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Brooklyn

  It’s been hours since I dropped Parker off at the airport, and I’m so tired that I can barely stay awake. The computer screen blurs, becoming two, then four, and back to one.

  “I need some caffeine,” I mutter and make my way to the break room.

  Rowan’s perched on the couch, watching Real Ways to Die with Boyd. They cackle like two old women when a man shoves a tube up his rectum to relieve his gas pains. He falls to the floor in obvious pain.

  “Oh Lord,” Rowan laughs. “Only a man would do something so stupid.”

  “Only because a woman drove him to it.”

  Rowan glares, then shrugs. “You have a point.”

  The news breaks in, and the two of them groan. I half listen to them and the news with a little smile. This place has become a second home for me, with its engine smell and slick floors. The people here, especially Rowan, are ones I could call on anytime, for anything.

  Like Parker.

  “Oh shit,” Boyd says.

  “Where’s the remote? Find the remote,” Rowan screeches.

  I roll my eyes as I open my can of soda. “What did this guy put up his butt?” I ask, turning my attention to the television. Parker’s image appears on screen in a video, or at least I think it’s him. He’s dressed in a tux, his normally messy hair carefully styled as he leads a woman to a waiting elevator.

  Just as the doors closed, she drops to her knees in front of him and his head falls back. The can of soda slips from my hand, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

  “This video, obtained on the condition of anonymity, was taken two week ago, at a Groves’ fundraiser. Mrs. Groves, the wife of Democratic candidate Michael Groves, is one of many caught up in this Escort Agency Scandal. Some of the escorts are reported to be underage. If you have any information about Annabelle Butler’s escort agency, please call us at—”

  I’m a whore. I sold my body. I started when I was fifteen.

  The television screen goes black.

  I blink as Rowan takes a step toward me. “Hey, stupid news, right? So depressing. Blech. So…did I tell you about that time I saw my brother on The Price’s Right? Yeah, well he’s never been on The Price’s Right. The dude was his doppelgänger.”

  “I remember that, Little Boss,” Boyd says.

  I nod, my head jerking like a bobble head. “Yeah, I’ve heard that can happen. My parents sent me a postcard from Wyoming where they swore they saw Uncle D’s twin.” I edge toward the door, unsure of what to do. “I think I need to get back to work.”

  “Boyd and I will take care of the mess,” Rowan says.

  “What mess?” I look down again. “Oh, I’ll get it.” I grab a wad of paper towels and try to blot it up, but no matter what I do, more liquid keeps coming out.

  Rowan kneels beside me and grabs the can, tossing it into the recycling bin. “It had a hole in one side.”

  “Thanks. I’ll get the rest.”

  “But you’re messing up your pretty skirt.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Rowan takes me by the hand and pulls me up. She grabs my head and makes me look h
er in the eye. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I sure as hell don’t know if that was him or not, but what I do know…what I’m going to plead with you to do is talk to him first. Get his side before you do something you regret. That man loves you. I know he does. He’s the reason why I showed up at your house for moral support.”

  “What if he lied to me?”

  “Then I’ll cut the son of a bitch,” Boyd says solemnly.

  “And I’ll hide the body,” Rowan adds.

  *

  Parker

  Cole and I stand in the living room of a house nicer than any we ever grew up in and stare in amazement at our very healthy mother.

  “You fucking lied to us,” Cole shouts at Ford.

  Ford has the decency to look guilty, not something I’d expect a former sheriff to do. It has to be against code of something. “I love your mother. She wants to see you, and that was the only way I knew to get you out here.”

  “We were coming next weekend,” I point out. “Didn’t you get the memo?”

  “Parker,” my mother coos, rising from the sofa that takes up half of the room. “You shouldn’t talk to your daddy that way.”

  “He is not my dad.”

  Cole grunts. “Want mine? He’s a winner.” Cole’s dad is an award winning country music producer. He’s also a violent, scum-sucking son of a bitch who recently went to jail for getting a fifteen year old girl pregnant.

  At least the guy Crystal claims is not only mine, but also Kelly’s dad, is decent enough. Or he’s whipped. Either way, he’s never put his hands on her, and he gave up everything to move out here with her, including a solid job with the county.

  “Shut up, Cole,” she snaps, and then turns her baby blues on me. “Parker, my handsome boy, come take a walk with me.”

  “I’m good right here.”

  She pouts, but unlike how she treats Cole, she doesn’t say shit to me. “You boys hungry? Brett made dinner.”

  “I’ve lost my appetite,” my brother snaps.

  Crystal’s sugary sweet demeanor turns hateful as hell. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is my food not good enough for you? Maybe you should tell that rich little wife of yours to let you spend some money, and you can go to the store to get what you like.”