by Cari Quinn
“You know better than to go for a rebound relationship, Karyn.” The bored, patient tone she’d grown so used to had again returned to his voice. “You’re not experienced enough to be able to sleep with someone without your feelings getting all tangled up.”
“So? What if they are tangled? Did it ever occur to you maybe he wouldn’t mind?”
She didn’t know what Jeff would or wouldn’t mind but it wasn’t for Lon to speculate on. They could discuss things, if and when they needed to. In the meantime, he needed to get his sanctimonious ass out of her house.
“Maddox? He’s hardly your type. The guy growls more than speaks.” With a shake of his head, he held out a hand. “I’d like my phone back now.”
“Maybe he just growls at you. Ever think of that? Since you’re fucking his little sister and he knows you’re married.”
For the first time she could recall, he smirked. Actually smirked at her. “Check your left hand. So are you. Doesn’t look like it stopped him, now does it?”
She reached down and yanked off her ring and threw it against the wall. It bounced and hit the hardwood with a satisfying ping. “There. Now what? You want me to agree to the divorce?”
She turned and charged into the living room, continuing into the connected dining room before her brain could engage. She didn’t want to think. Her anger mobilized her. For once she didn’t care if she’d taken the wrong step. Moving itself was enough.
“Karyn,” Lon said in a soothing, steady tone as he followed her. “Take it easy. Are you all right?”
Ignoring him, she grabbed the papers she hadn’t touched in almost three weeks. Like a damn ostrich, she’d dug her head so far in the sand it covered her ass. As usual she’d tried to pretend she didn’t have to deal with her life. That if she just waited the situation out, it would all go away.
Just as her parents’ divorce had gone away. They’d almost divorced so many times, but look at them. They were still together, thirty years later. Despite how many divorces they’d started and dropped, despite the fights, despite the river of tears she’d seen raining down her mother’s face as she sat on the kitchen floor cradling the latest piece of crockery her father had broken in a rage. But he’d never touched her mother or her or her younger sister. Not in anger. That was what mattered, her mother said. Words didn’t wound like fists.
Yeah, right. What a load of crap. Both words spent and words deferred hurt. Holding feelings back, guarding them like a miser hoarding pennies, tore holes in people. Her husband’s seeming lack of emotion had torn damn sinkholes inside her and she’d done the shittiest patch-up job ever.
She balled up her divorce papers, breathing so hard her chest and back ached. Her mother was wrong. She didn’t want just to get by while telling herself it could always be worse. Being happy mattered. And she needed to grab her happiness with both hands and hold on no matter who tried to rip it away.
For once, she needed to fight.
“Karyn?” Lon touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“So take him for all he’s got. Any judge would side with you.”
But did she want this house? She loved her studio, yes, but she’d lived here with Lon. It had been the cracked shell around their broken marriage for so long. Could she truly move on while she was stuck in the same old muck?
Would she even know until she tried?
She’d made mistakes too. Funny how one night with Jeff had shown her more than months of recriminations. But then, if she were honest, last night was the first time she’d shined a hard light on her life. A fucking shame it had taken having a stranger at her side to make her acknowledge the truth.
Except Jeff wasn’t a stranger. If she just counted the hours they’d known each other, fine. But in all the most vital ways, he already knew her. He got the parts of her she liked best. He got her.
“Karyn?”
She turned her head to look at Lon, unsurprised to see he’d yet to lower his sunglasses. But she didn’t look away. Instead she stared into the flat soulless mirrors over his eyes. “Why wouldn’t you come to Christmas dinners at my parents’ house?”
She expected surprise at the question, but she didn’t get it. He slipped his hands in the pockets of his baggy trousers and swallowed hard enough to make his Adam’s apple bob. “It always felt too tense there. Even though we had our issues, we weren’t at each other’s throats. But sometimes that place seemed…contaminating. Like they’d infect us too.”
The divorce papers in her hand shook. How much else hadn’t she faced? It had been so easy to blame Lon. He was evil incarnate, for no reason except to make her life miserable. She’d been above reproach.
Except she wasn’t. Apathy and denial were no less toxic than outright violence. Maybe they didn’t harm as quickly but they harmed just the same.
Lon might’ve closed down on her, but she honestly didn’t remember when she’d been anything but closed off herself. Except last night. Why she’d found a way to open up to Jeff, she had no clue.
All she knew was that she intended to fight like hell not to go back to where she’d been before. No matter what.
“You never told me,” she said, not looking at him.
“You never listened when I tried.” He cupped her shoulder, his fingers exerting gentle pressure. “I loved you once.”
I loved me once too.
A knot formed in her throat. She tried to speak, found she couldn’t. She shut her eyes and let the grief pour through her. The last thing she’d do was fend off these emotions when they were finally struggling to break through the surface.
For years her ability to rise above her surroundings had kept her whole. Now those same feelings she’d repressed would help her find her way back to who she would be.
Karyn wet her lips and lifted her head to meet Lon’s gaze. He’d taken off his sunglasses and what she saw in his eyes wasn’t boredom. Maybe, just maybe, part of him still cared about her.
Time to find out.
“Lon.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “I want the house.”
Chapter Six
Jeff didn’t avail himself of her shower before he finished getting dressed. No need. He had hot water at home. Better yet, his apartment didn’t hold any ghosts of lovers past—his own or someone else’s. Or worse, current ghosts that were now downstairs probably exuding their slimy ether all over the woman he’d spent the night with.
He glanced at the messy bed and rubbed the heel of his hand against his shoulder, trying to dispel the urge to stay. To talk to her once more.
Walk away.
It was, after all, something he had a lot of practice at. He’d done it twice before, and those women had shared his last name. This wasn’t nearly as traumatizing. One night didn’t mean—
Bullshit. All bullshit. If he waded any deeper he’d be in up to his elbows. One night meant a lot. Especially since he’d come into this with no expectations, only a desire to protect his sister, and he’d happened upon someone so vital he couldn’t imagine not seeing her face or hearing her laughter again.
It had been the longest, most important one night of his life.
He buttoned up his shirt and put on his socks and boots but still he didn’t go downstairs. He’d give them the time they needed. A smart guy didn’t get involved in messy marital mishaps in the first place. Too late for that. The least he could do was to resist going all macho by demanding Karyn fawn over him instead of her husband.
Her goddamn husband.
He’d come close though. Real close. When she’d labeled him a friend and that cool expression had overtaken her face, replacing the passion she’d exhibited so freely all night long, he’d forced himself to take a giant step back. She wasn’t his problem. She was just a woman he’d slept with.
Right.
At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, he stood. Only when he realized exactly how overeager that made him seem did he manage to sit his ass back down and wait.
Karyn entered t
he bedroom with halting steps, as if she expected him to be spoiling for a fight. Though she didn’t lurk in the doorway, she kept a healthy amount of space between them, more than there had been at any point yesterday. Including at the coffee shop when they’d been total strangers.
Figured that now she wanted her distance.
“You’re still here,” she said, slipping her hands into the pockets of her robe.
“I’ve outgrown climbing out of bedroom windows with my pants around my ankles.”
“Too bad. I think the neighbors could use some shaking up.”
The absolute rawness of her voice weakened the resistance he’d built up inside him. Thought he’d built up, anyway. To keep from hauling her into his arms, he studied her. The resolute set of her chin, the shadows under her haunted eyes, the ramrod posture she maintained as if she’d shatter unless she held herself perfectly straight.
She was so much stronger than most of the women—hell, most of the people, period—he’d known. The tears that sheened her eyes didn’t diminish his opinion. Far from it. He wanted to congratulate her.
Finally.
Finally she’d opened the window to the feelings she’d tamped down for so long. During their long conversation last night, they’d covered plenty of ground. She’d said over and over she didn’t cry. Declared it, actually, as if it were a badge of honor. Weeping wasn’t therapeutic, merely draining. She didn’t need to sob over things she couldn’t change. What good would it do?
Yet here she stood, lips trembling, looking so valiant he wondered why he’d never seen tears as irrefutable evidence of strength before.
She wasn’t running away from anything. She was facing it head-on. Not burying herself in work or other people’s lives. Just living in the moment and dealing with whatever came.
He fisted his hands on his hips and waited for his heartbeat to level. When it didn’t, he gave in. Fuck it. “I don’t want you to go back to your husband.”
“Not even for your sister,” she said, her tone hollow.
“No. She needs to make her own choices. I’m past trying to fight Daisy’s battles. Guess I just needed that reminder.”
“Is that the only reason?”
Jeff held her gaze. “Just because you’re so fucking strong you make my teeth ache, don’t expect to get the same from me.”
He didn’t expect a smile. “Strong? I’m trying to let myself be weak. To not deny I feel—” She stopped, shook her head. “Just that I feel.”
“Feeling can be pretty damn tough.”
She came over to sit beside him on the bed, her terry cloth-covered thigh bumping his. “Yes, it can.”
The silence grew between them. Painful, aching. Full of way too much, considering twenty-four hours ago he’d barely been aware of her existence.
She reached over and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. Whether the gesture showed solidarity or was simply her way of saying goodbye, he didn’t know.
“You’re too good for him.”
He didn’t look at her. Not when their linked hands were so fascinating. Not when he knew he’d never be able to speak if he looked into the face of all that strength and smacked head-on into his own lack.
“I don’t think I’m as good as I thought. But I appreciate you being…” Her fingers twitched in his. “A friend. I haven’t had one of those in a while.”
“This isn’t about being friendly, dammit,” he said in an undertone, but only because he didn’t want to yell and scare her shitless. “I want to be your lover. I want more nights like the one we just had, and I want to know you don’t see me as some fucking fallen angel whose only mission is to heal your broken sex life.”
“Tell me how you really feel, Jeff. Don’t hold back.”
He lifted his head, gaze seeking hers. That she seemed on the verge of a smile irritated him more. “I want you. Just you. Just me. No ghosts, nobody between us.”
She didn’t flinch from the words or his stare. Instead she extricated her fingers from his suddenly bruising grip and scraped the hair back from his face. “I need…”
Here it came. The mother of all brush-offs. Maybe Lon had changed his mind, decided to try for round two of his marriage.
At least Daisy would be off the hook. At least he’d have his memories of last night.
Screw at least. Was he supposed to just step back and say no harm, no foul? She’d been married ten years. He’d had less than ten hours with her. A decent man wouldn’t force her to make choices she wasn’t ready to make.
Wasn’t that part of what being strong meant? Putting his own needs aside for someone else, just because it was the right thing to do? No matter how it hurt.
Letting out a frustrated growl, he reached up to clasp her hand, intending to rip it away from his face. Before he could, she hurtled toward him and locked her arms around his neck, fusing their mouths together. Heat and urgency streamed from her vibrating body and into his, erasing any memories but those they’d made.
She kissed him so deeply his mind shuddered to a halt. Wasn’t he supposed to take control? He couldn’t. How could he control this? She’d become a one-woman wrecking ball against his determination to shut her out. He didn’t want complications but here she was, her lips on fire, melting his last resolve.
Stripping him bare before she left him alone.
She twirled her tongue around his and sucked as if her next breath depended on it, bringing him along with her on her madcap ride. Today she tasted like wild honey, dark and sweet. Need battered his system, intensifying as she slid her sexy curves against his body. But she didn’t stop. She just kept dragging him deeper.
When she drew back, her eyes remained closed, almost as if she wasn’t ready to open them to reality yet. He couldn’t look away. He fought for his breath and his composure, finally giving both up as lost.
As many times as he’d said goodbye, this would hurt the most. Not because he knew her well but because he didn’t. He would never get a chance to see if they were incompatible. He’d never get to learn all her annoying habits. Her off-key singing in the shower or her heavy snores would never keep him from sleep. Her laughter and kisses wouldn’t be there to greet him when he woke.
Hard to miss what he’d never had but he did. Oh fuck, he did.
She traced her fingertips over his chest, seeking his heartbeat. Making it race just from her light touch. “What’s your middle name, Jeff?”
It wasn’t what he’d been expecting. When did she ever deliver that? “I don’t have one.”
Karyn tipped back her head and opened her eyes. “No?”
“No. My parents said they didn’t believe in them, though they gave Daisy the middle name Rose. She always said her name fit a hard-luck chick destined for the county lockup.”
“Or a country singer,” she mused, causing him to laugh. As usual.
“She’d rather go to jail. Daze hates country.”
“What about you?”
“Not really a fan,” he admitted, fisting his hand against her back to keep from stroking her cheek.
“Too bad. I think we’d make a good country song.”
Silence grew between them again until the room seemed to pulse with all that was unsaid. “Will you just get it over with?” he asked finally.
“What?”
“Karyn, you’re married.”
“Yeah.” She pulled herself up and out of his arms, denying him even her warmth. “I am. And until I’m not, I shouldn’t—we can’t—”
“It’s over,” he said, cutting to the chase. “As quick as it started, it’s over. I’m okay with that.”
She folded her arms and angled her chin. “Are you? Because I’m not.”
He shrugged. His chest felt as if someone had raked him inside out with a backhoe, but sure, he was okay. Just dandy. “Timing’s off. It happens.”
Karyn clutched his hand. Only then did he realize she’d removed her wedding ring, the solitary item of gold in a sea of silver. That bare
finger spoke volumes, inspiring hope.
He couldn’t hope.
“Tell me you’ll give me time.”
There it was, the rope he’d wished she would toss his way. Somehow grabbing hold of it seemed like only a new way to delude himself. “Why don’t you take care of what you need to, then we’ll see?”
“So this is it then. Just…goodbye.”
He made himself stare into her dark eyes, allowed himself to drown a little. “You know my number. If you ever decide you’re ready, use it.” When her eyes began to film, he drew back and rose. “Take care of yourself, Karyn Collette Allison.”
Not James. Not any longer.
She smiled through her tears, the sun coming out during a rainstorm. “You too, Jeffrey No Name Maddox.”
He started to say more. The words were right there. For once, he didn’t have to search for how to phrase things. But he wouldn’t do that to her. If last night had taught him anything, it was the value of allowing a person to become who they needed to be, on their own timetable.
Letting them make their own choices, and live their own damn life.
He walked out before he could ask for things she couldn’t give and he had no right to want.
Chapter Seven
One year later
Cold wine, warm wind, the sun on the verge of setting in a fiery blaze of orange and pink. What more did a man need?
Jeff exhaled as he surveyed the slowly darkening sky. He loved fall, especially when it actually lasted for a few weeks before winter kicked down its rickety door. In Cedar Hollow, that was never a certainty.
They’d been lucky so far. October had been absolutely gorgeous with sunny, crisp days that hinted at long nights curled under thick duvets while fires crackled in the hearth.
He didn’t have a duvet or a hearth. But he sure as hell had the long nights and he recorded every nuance of the cold. It had settled inside him, remaining even in the face of the most persistent sunshine. As much as he loved the fall, no towering pile of colorful leaves or wisp of wood smoke in the air could chip it away.
October ninth. Almost a year since he’d done something completely crazy. Nosing into Daisy’s business had been one thing. But going so far as to grab his sister’s boyfriend’s phone and texting his wife—estranged or not, she was the man’s wife—then meeting with her, talking to her, sleeping with her…