by Brea Viragh
He slapped his cup down on a coffee table. “I don’t want you to always be around! I’m not in the market for a relationship, which is something I’ve told you over. And over. And over!”
The last statement came out as a roar. Anger colored his face, his eyes clouded.
A small part of me wanted to scoot to the end of the couch to get away from all that awful anger. A lesser woman might have done that. I held my place and let him rage. I knew he needed it. No one said being strong was easy.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“You have no idea what it’s like to have an addict in the family. An addict who doesn’t care who he hurts as long as he gets his next fix. You’re so sure about everything in the world, everything in your life, and you won’t fucking listen when I try to get you off my back.”
I wanted to respond with the same kind of fury. An emotional wad got stuck in my throat and what came next was off the cuff. “No, I never will. Not when you’re being irrational.”
Fenton surged to his feet. “Irrational?” He didn’t like the sound of that. “What gives you right to come into my house and act like you know me?”
“I do know you.” It would have been easier for the anger to come, to let out a violent stream of everything I’d let pile up inside of me without an outlet. I ran a finger under my damp eyelashes. “I do understand, although you’d like me to be a simpering little coward of a woman and kowtow to your righteous anger.” I kept my voice low and a thin spread of venom beneath every syllable. There was frustration inside of me I couldn’t wait to release, and the old Shari would have been happy to dole it out on any available ear.
This was Fenton. I was trying to be better.
“I know,” I said slowly, “because my sister was addicted to painkillers. I had to scrape her off the side of the road at three o’clock in the morning after she went on a bender. I had to pay bail when she got picked up. You think I don’t know.” I crossed my legs and shoved my finger at him with enough force to have Fenton reversing despite the difference in our stature. “It took my sister years jumping in and out of rehab facilities before she got clean. Kaylen had to live with me for months before Jackie got off her ass and did the right thing.”
“Seriously?”
“Of course,” I spit out. “It was a hellacious time in everyone’s life where the only thing we could do was focus on breathing and making it through the next minute, hour, day. Stop trying to blame me for what you feel right now. No matter what you say, or how you need a focus for your pain, don’t get upset with me when I want to help you. It’s called being compassionate, you asshole.”
He stared at me with his lips parted and his hands fisted the pockets of his jeans. There was still bitterness there, but at least we were on the same page. The same damaged page.
Then he exhaled loudly, sitting on the couch next to me again. There was no way to pretend. “I’m tired.”
“No more fighting?”
“I don’t have the energy anymore,” he said softly. “I think I’ve said what I had to.”
I nodded and took a drink of my coffee. It was good quality dark roast and went a long way toward filling the emptiness in my stomach, although it couldn’t touch the ache beneath my ribcage.
“Is your brother going to be okay?” I asked. “He looked pretty rough. When I found him, he was camping out beneath the eggs.”
Fenton swallowed a laugh. “He does this every other week. He’s never going to be better. No matter how many times he tells me he’s ready to get help, he never does. And I keep believing him.” He cracked his knuckles. “Like a shmuck.”
“I’ve seen Jackie go through withdrawals, coming down from her high. She was shaky and emotional. Crying one minute and screaming the next. It took her a long time to curb the cravings and she’ll never be all right around painkillers or alcohol.” I took a deep breath in preparation for the next round of sharing. Now that I’d started, there was no way to stop. “This business with Kaylen has been a huge test, and it’s the first real upset she’s had in a long time where I’m not sure she can get through without chemical help.”
“Has she…”
“No,” I answered firmly. “Which hasn’t stopped me from asking her several thousand times. There’s always the possibility, you know. Once they get help, it’s still a struggle. One small sip or toke or whatever can send them hurtling back down the path and this time they might never come back.”
He looked away like he couldn’t face me. It wasn’t easy to get out, but once I started, it got better. “I wanted to be mad at her. For years I was. I thought she was being selfish. She experimented through our teen years, got pregnant at twenty. Then her boyfriend left her and she had a little girl who was dependent on her, but all she could think about was getting a fix.”
“You supported her. You wouldn’t do any different now, I’m sure.”
“She’s my sister. I covered for her time and time again when our parents decided they were done.” I sent him a nod. We both understood the abandonment there. I liked to think I’d grown past resenting my mother and father. I’m not sure Fenton had yet. “Then I stopped making excuses. Then came the kindness. It probably took too long and I thought it wouldn’t make a difference. It did. There is no better medicine than kindness and compassion.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that. Seeing Liam in a downward spiral has been the worst parts of my life. I’m still here. I guess it counts. Staying when you want to run. Or dump him off with a clinic and leave him there.” He sagged into the couch cushions with the mug between his hand. “It would be so easy,” he growled. “To run off like my parents did and write him off as hopeless. Somehow I can’t get the idea past my thick skull. I keep showing up and waiting for him to make the right decision. Even when the town is laughing at him. At me.”
“Fenton,” I breathed. “It’s okay to not have it all together. Trust me, I know. I’m a walking mess. Especially lately.” I shook my head. “You’ve seen me in some pretty bad spots.”
He closed his eyes and, at that moment, I wished I could make his troubles disappear. I scooted closer, reaching out to press my arm into his. It was a small touch, a brief flash of my skin against his. There was heat there, enough to melt away his anger and replace it with peace.
“How did she overcome her demons?” he asked. “Your sister. What did she do that made her decide to get help and stick with it? You said she’s been sober for almost a decade.”
“With a lot of therapy. A lot of love from her friends and family. Mostly me.” I shrugged. “Kaylen helped her more than anything, I feel. She had a little girl to focus on, a little girl who needed a mother to show up and be present.”
It was normal to tell him everything. To let him know my secrets. The townspeople knew about Jackie and her drug problem. There had been whispers and judgments and a few who turned away from the family as a whole. Others had dug in deep, aunts and cousins across the country calling in to offer their support over the telephone or email.
Fenton sat calmly and the admission came. “She started dabbling when she was around sixteen, any kind of stress or any kind of pain. Then her asshole boyfriend left her with a five-year-old and she fell apart. There was nothing any of us could do.”
“My brother,” Fenton began, “has always been an alcoholic. He drinks away his problems. He doesn’t want to deal with them. He doesn’t know any other way to handle his feelings. I know how he feels. It would be easier to drown everything in a bottle instead of facing reality.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Why not?” It was matter-of-fact. “I work at a bar. It’s easy to get whatever I want. Especially when half the people under me are on something. All it would take is a word. I’m tired, Shar.” His voice broke. “I’m tired of everything and I want some release. How much better would it be if I did what people said and became a drunk like my brother? All they do is talk—”
“Stop it,” I demanded fiercely. “I don’t want to h
ear any more of that shit coming from your mouth. You know better.”
“Do I?”
“I’d certainly hope so.”
Fenton glanced down, his face showing years of strain and a need for control. There was also a healthy dose of resignation. Anger surged through me. He was too good of a person to feel such defeat. I knew he would never give in to the urges, but still. The desire was there.
I wanted to beat bloody whatever person, or people, put the look on his face. I’d put Fenton in the beat bloody category as well. He was too hard on himself.
“Sometimes I wonder if this is my fault.” He gestured down the hall and the wet snores coming from a sleeping Liam. “Something I did to push him to these extremes. I wasn’t exactly an understanding little brother. I was a terror. Maybe I didn’t show him how much I cared. Maybe, like you, I could learn to deal with him with more compassion.”
I grabbed hold of his arms. “Shush. One of the hardest lessons for me to learn with my sister…none of this is our fault. Believe me. Okay?” I pushed. “You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. Liam has to want to be better. All you can do is be there and be kind.”
It wasn’t until I watched his eyes widen that I realized how close I’d gotten. Close enough to be practically sprawled on his lap with my breasts pushing into his arms. Hard not to do, considering their size, but still. They were practically popping out of my shirt at his nearness. And here I’d been trying to be serious. My hands were still digging into his skin.
“Shari,” he began in warning.
The sound of his voice, deep and huskier than it had been moments earlier, had me freezing. “Yes?”
“I told you. I can’t step on this road again with you. Not when I can’t get to the end.” His statement was said on a groan, like he was repeating words from a script he no longer fully believed in. Oh, if only it was true.
There was tension in his body and a crazed, exhausted look glazing his eyes.
He glanced down at my cleavage with a meaning, and I chuckled. “Sorry. They have a mind of their own.”
When he sought my eyes again, his lips had parted. Everything inside of me screamed to make a move. To kiss him. To feel him against me once again, to taste him the way my body remembered. Oh, it would be easy to close the distance and take what I badly desired.
He’d think I was a horn dog. Or an animal, depending on how tightly I kept my needs chained. It might be the final act to push him away. This was not the time or place to push my affections on him.
I tried to fight it. Tried hard not to lose to my baser instincts. They’d steered me wrong in the past, a few times if I were being honest. It was hard to fight when the lust was strong enough to make me forget my own name.
“I’m doing everything in my power to stay away from you,” he admitted. “So why can’t I?”
“You can’t?” I couldn’t help the way my tone lifted in excitement.
“I’m sorry. I’m not sure I’ve explained it well.”
“Explain it now. I still don’t understand. I don’t understand why you don’t want me.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you. I do. We’ve shared some crazy experiences, and I know how your lips feel. I know your eyes slowly shut when I trail kisses along your neck.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I know how everything inside of me aches when I see you looking at me.”
“You better stop, or I’ll never get these puppies back in their holster.”
“There are too many things I want to do before I settle down. Things I’ve put off because of my family. I come with a lot of baggage.”
“I know. I heard about your ex-girlfriend.”
His expression turned angry. Still, it was his other emotions that threatened to gut me. It was the heartbreak. “Who told you?” I opened my mouth to answer and he cut me off. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. Your pity is literally the last thing I need tonight.”
It would be easy so simple to lash out. I felt like my hands were tied. I fought against my natural inclination, lifted a hand to his shoulder, and was surprised when he didn’t push me away. “And pity is literally the last thing I feel.” I took a deep breath. “Concern, maybe? Understanding, definitely. I know how it feels to have people judge you based on where you come from. You have a lot to give, Fenton. Don’t let your ability to move forward be stifled by your past.”
“It would be better if you stopped pursuing me. Kept whatever this is between us to a working relationship. Which means you have to stop touching me.” He sounded like he wanted the exact opposite.
The idea of him walking away for good, one final time, sent a bolt of pain through me. Sharp enough to cut through the majority of my desire. Eventually, I let my fingers released and shifted until there was a healthy amount of space between us.
“Fine.” I held my hands up. “I’ll try my best not to pursue you.”
“Try?” he asked wryly.
“I make no promises. I know what I want when I see it.” Now wasn’t the time to admit the depths of my feeling. Right? It would be stupid. Madness. “Maybe I’m not worth the fight.”
He grimaced. “You are worth the fight. I wish you would find someone else. Someone better.”
“Why can’t you understand? You are a good man.”
“Easy for you to say,” he grumbled.
“Not everyone would give a job to a woman who was little more than a stranger,” I answered with a forced smile.
“Not everyone would sleep with said woman, either.”
“Oh, I think it happens more than you think. And stop feeling guilty or I’ll have to smack you in the mouth.”
Something hot flashed across his face when his gaze dropped to my lips. They lingered. Blood rushed through my abdomen like a wild brush fire. He did want me, after all. Which meant I was done fighting. It would be the first time I made the first move, and heaven above as my witness, it wouldn’t be the last.
His arms reached out and snagged me, questioning eyes reaching up to meet mine.
This time, he reached for me, and I couldn’t stop him. Probably couldn’t have if he was holding a gun to my head. I took hold of his chin at the same time he grabbed me around the waist, hauling me onto his lap, his lips crashing down on mine. It was the mind-melting, skin searing kiss I’d been aching for since our first night together. It was paradise.
I melted against him, arching my back to push my chest to his. We fit together, was my last sane thought. His hand reached up to clasp around the back of my neck. The kiss pushing me higher and higher until I reacted with wild abandon.
Let’s see him try to say no to me again.
He tasted like cinnamon gum, sweet and a little spicy. His teeth nibbled and his lips played greedily before his tongue plunged deeper into my mouth. It would have been a small thing to rip the belt from his jeans, to push his shirt aside and spread my fingers along those deliciously wide shoulders.
I hadn’t meant to give in.
But his lips were on me and he was groaning. The next thing I knew his hand had moved to the back of my neck, guiding me closer. Holding me in place. There was no strength left for me to pull away. Then he shifted and brought his arms around me, surrounding me, his hands caressing.
There was hunger there between us. This was different from the last time. Something beautiful and deadly and, I had a horrible feeling, something that would burn too brightly and be gone.
Fenton moaned and met whatever need I had and couldn’t voice. I concentrated on absorbing his warmth, memorizing the hard planes of his body and the heat from his exposed skin. My brain kicked off. I wasn’t prepared to let go of him yet. Stopping would have been like standing in the middle of a five-lane highway and asking the traffic to reverse. Impossible.
He trailed kisses across my skin until his teeth found my earlobe. I sighed his name. The need to be close to him was more than urgent. It was life-altering.
When our lips met again, a fiery burst of e
lectricity shot through my system through my mouth, which tingled like I’d been making out with a ghost chili. His tongue darted out to run along my lower lip right before he bit down, drawing it into his mouth.
I poured all my emotions into the kiss. All of my needs. My doubts and desires and conflicts. He took them in stride, accepting whatever I had to give. In time, the kiss turned from heat and friction to an odd tenderness. He cradled me in his arms, his hand on my cheek.
A door slammed. “Fenton?”
The call echoed down the hallway from the guest bedroom.
Fenton tore his lips away from mine before raggedly answering, “Liam? Go back to bed.”
“I puked. I need you.”
“I…I’ll be right there.” Fenton sighed, resting his forehead against mine for a second before breaking the contact. He placed a fast, hard kiss on my lips. My arms went around his neck automatically.
“I’m sorry. It’s probably better if you go wait in the car.” His voice was thick. “This isn’t something you should have to see. Or deal with.”
An eerie contentment I hadn’t felt in weeks stole over me. The sensation was strange. The moment called for something different, something more realistic. As much ease as his presence brought, guilt flashed equally strong. The kiss had touched me more than I wanted to admit. More, the intense feeling of finality—more than him telling me to stop wasting my time—that rocked me.
“Fine,” I said. “Whatever you need.”
He looked tired, I decided. Tired like he’d been forced to run a marathon ten-times over. If he didn’t get some food and sleep, he’d fall down and never get back up.
I’d not only slipped back to reality, I’d plummeted.
Taught muscles released me and when I finally met his eyes I saw the desire there. Desire intermingled with regret. We had chemistry together, there was no doubt about it, but I knew chemistry wasn’t enough to make it past this hurdle. Both parties had to be willing to jump. I was standing alone.
I slipped from his arms and stood, creating a physical distance between us.