House of Payne: Rude

by Stacy Gail

  “Yes.” Behind his back, her hands balled into fists. She didn’t want him to feel how clammy they’d become at the thought of having life turn into a never-ending ride that seesawed between heaven and hell. “That’s not exactly the stable life I’ve always dreamed of having.”

  “And that’s the biggest point right there. Your entire existence up to now has been about as stable as fucking Jell-O. Your growing-up years—the years where people learn what life is all about—they were a goddamn train wreck. You were yanked from one home to another, to another, never establishing roots or learning how to make connections. Instability like that has got to be the most wearing thing in the world. That, and having no control over where you get to go and wondering what new kind of hell you’re going to land in next. That kind of existence would make anyone gun-shy of unreliability. Am I right?”

  She could hardly make her vocal chords work. “Yes.”

  “That’s what got me over here tonight. So many people in this world have already let you down, but I’m not going to be one of them. Logic tells me you’d probably be safer if you didn’t have me in your life, but then again, maybe you wouldn’t be. Maybe staying this close to you is what it’s going to take to make sure you’re completely protected. I don’t know what the right move is. The only thing I do know is this—I refuse to add more scars to your collection. So, you know what that means?”

  She swept a thumb over his cheek. “What?”

  “It means I’m going to fight to stay in your life, Sassy Pants, through the good and the bad. I’m going to be the stability you’ve always dreamed of. You’re worth it, and you need to be shown that.”

  Tears slipped out of the corners of her eyes as his words touched her all the way to her soul, and their impact was so beautiful it shattered her. “No one has ever said anything like that to me.”

  “I’ll do my best to tell you that every day in all the ways I can think of, especially when we run into the rough patches like the one we hit today. And you have to admit, it got seriously fucking rough when you tried to walk away from me.”

  Shame nearly killed her. “There’s no excuse for that. I suck and I know it. You know why? I’d reached a point where nothing else mattered but getting away and being free. I never thought about you, the hell you were going through. I’m so angry with myself for being such a horrible bitch, and I’m so sorry I suck so m—”

  “Shh.” A breath of laughter hit her lips a moment before his mouth did, silencing her with a deep kiss that was so tender it made her pulse stutter. “I know you don’t like being confined. It triggers every anxiety you carry around inside you, and before you know it you’re losing it. I hope to God we can avoid another instance where it’s necessary to keep you in lockdown to get you out of harm’s way, but I can’t guarantee that. So that’s where you’ve got to help me out.”

  “I swear I’ll do my best not to fucking suck so much by being a total hideous bitchy loser of a girlfriend.”

  “Stop that.” He kissed her hard and quick, a punishment she was more than happy to take. “Listen to me, Sass. Every person with PTSD has a trigger and just like everyone else, you get pissed off with yourself when that trigger gets pulled. But that’s a slippery slope that nosedives right into self-hatred and ultimately self-destruction, and I’m not going to let you go there. You’ve got to cut yourself some slack and not make matters worse by beating yourself up about being human. You get me?”

  Her arm tightened around him, still not convinced she had PTSD, but thankful beyond words that he seemed to understand her better than she did. “I’ll try.”

  He kissed her again, this time as a reward. “I need you to try to do something else.”

  “Anything.”

  “I need you to tell me that if and when we do hit these rough patches, you’re going to fight for me.”

  “Rude.” Her heart cracked down the middle. She’d put him in a position where he had to ask her to do that. Had to fucking ask her, when he should have known he could count on her. But she’d proven tonight that she couldn’t be counted on.

  He deserved so much better than her.

  Because she sucked.

  “I’ll pull my own weight and fight like hell for you, Sass, you’ve got my word on that. And I promise you that I will never back down when it comes to making sure we’ve got a smooth path. But that kind of thing only works when both people promise to do that for each other. If only one person’s doing it, then that person’s a creepy-ass stalker. So I need you to tell me that you’re going to fight for me. I swear I’ll be worth the effort, baby. I swear it.”

  “Sweetheart.” She could barely get the word past the tears that wanted desperately to get out. If she had done things right—done things better—he would have already known she’d do anything for him. “I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work between us. All my life I’ve searched for a place to call home, but I could never find it, not even here in this apartment. Then you came along. Now I know that wherever you are, that’s where my home is. I need to prove that to you, and I promise I’ll fight for you until you know you can believe in me.”

  “Sassy.” Kissing her hair, he hugged her so hard her bones creaked. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

  “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

  “Never.” He held her for a long moment, in a cocoon of peace that sank into every part of her, before he rolled over, grabbed up his pants and fished something white out of the pocket. Then he was back to her, pressing a small white florist-style envelope into her hand even as he curled his big body back around hers. “Since I want to prove I’m worth the fight, I thought this would be a good way to kick things off.”

  Like he had to prove that. “What is it?”

  “Open it.”

  Reaching over to turn on the bedside light, Sass flipped the tiny envelope open and slid the card out. Unfolding it, she read the words scrawled there in his strong hand, and they hit her almost as hard as a physical blow.

  I promise to let you use the bathroom first.

  Her chest filled with so much emotion she couldn’t breathe.

  “Bathroom privileges,” he murmured with a grin against her ear. “You know how important those are to me, right? That card should show you how serious I am about—”

  “I love you.” The words tumbled out, shocking them both into stillness. But as foreign as those words were to her, she knew she had to give him the gift of the truth. She owed him that much. “I love everything about you, from the way you walk and talk, to the way you value your family, to how you hold me at night. I love how we fit together. I love how we laugh together and can be quiet together. I love how I can sleep so peacefully when I’m with you. I love waking up with you, knowing that when I’m with you, I’m safe. I love you, Rudolfo, so much it hurts, so much I want to cry.”

  “Don’t cry.” With his arms wrapped around her, he rolled so that he was on top of her, his weight suspended by his forearms and his eyes looking down into hers with such heated intensity it made everything inside her melt. “When something as perfect as the two of us loving each other comes around, the last thing it deserves is tears.”

  Just when she’d thought she’d gotten the knack of breathing down pat, he threw her for another loop. “Each… other?”

  “You don’t think you’re alone in this, do you? Getting you to this point is all part of Operation Sassy Pants. I’m still not calling it ‘mission accomplished,’ but it’s getting there.”

  She frowned, more confused than ever. “Rude—”

  “Nope, no more questions for tonight. Just know that you’re not alone, because I do love you. I mean, shit, I voluntarily spend night after night in a bed with purple sheets and fucking cheetah pillows, and no TV, just so I can be with you. If that ain’t love, baby, honest to God, I don’t know what is.”

  Dizzy happiness bubbled from her in the form of a laugh, and she arched up to press her mouth to his. “Tomorrow, I promis
e—this room is going to become our room.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “It’s huge.”

  “You know what they say—the bigger, the better.”

  “How is it going to fit?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make it fit.”

  Sass crossed her arms and watched the salesperson wheel away the massive eighty-inch flatscreen smart TV in its cardboard box away on a flatbed handcart. “Maybe we should have it delivered?”

  “I’m calling Gino and Anthony to help me move it in. That’s what brothers are for.” He was already dialing, before he wrapped a hand around her nape and reeled her in to settle her against his side. “We’ll put the TV you’ve got in the living room into the bedroom, and have that bad boy hooked up in its place. Gino works for the cable company, so I’ll bribe him to do it with beer and wings, and maybe the promise of watching the Super Bowl on that big screen.” His hand squeezed, coaxing her to look up at him. “You like football?”

  “I grew up in the Panuzzi household during my teen years. What do you think?”

  He kissed her temple. “I think you’re a gem if you like football.”

  It wasn’t her favorite sport, but she didn’t mind ogling ripped guys in tight pants for a few hours every Sunday. “I was already planning on doing a huge blog special for Super Bowl Sunday, so that works out great. I’ll kill two birds with one stone—I’ll have a theme for the blog and I’ll be able to feed you and your brothers. Do you like hockey?”

  “Blackhawks rule.”

  “Good answer.” She gave him a squeeze. “Okay, next stop is linens. What’s your favorite color?”

  “I’m fine with anything but pink, and I can take the purple if you really want it.” He pulled her around so that they faced each other, his hands on her waist while her arms drifted up to link behind his neck. “You don’t have to change everything in your home for me, you know.”

  “I told you, you’re my home. The apartment’s just a place I’ve been staying. I’m happy wherever you are.”

  “You’ve lived alone a long time. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re going to be able to handle having someone in your personal space twenty-four seven.”

  He was talking about moving in together. The fact that they were already in the process of doing that hadn’t slipped by her, so she only lifted a shoulder. “Want me to make myself comfortable over at your place? I’m there in a heartbeat, if you’re open to that.”

  “I’ve thought about it, but it’s not practical. I rented my place when I got back because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I just crash there, I don’t live there. And as great as your place is, it’s not going to fit us long-term, either,” he added with a note of caution, giving her another squeeze. “It’s fine for now, but eventually we’re going to need a bigger place. I need to know how you feel about that.”

  For a moment she couldn’t understand why they’d need more room, before the memory of their conversation about children seeped into her mind. The panic didn’t roll through her this time, however. Instead all she felt was bowled over that she and Rude were actually having this conversation. “I… I think I’m okay with it.”

  “Good. Not for a while, though,” he added, resting his mouth against her brow. “For now we’ll take it one day at a time and get used to being us.”

  Being us?” It was ridiculous, how much she loved it when he put it like that.

  “Yeah.” Keeping one arm draped around her shoulder, he turned them toward the escalator. “I know you’re good at being on your own, and so am I. Getting used to being us is going to take a while, and I want to enjoy every second of it.”

  Just when she thought she couldn’t fall for the man any harder than she already had, he said something like that and turned her insides into goo.

  They made arrangements to pick up the TV, with Rude pocketing the receipt and claim number before they headed out into the mall to hit a big box store specializing in housewares. As they dodged fellow shoppers already wild-eyed with the Christmas spirit, Sass tried to figure out how Rude had come to know her so well. To say that change was difficult for her was an understatement of epic proportions. She hated change. Even if she hadn’t had a childhood full of upheaval, she suspected she still would have hated it. Somehow Rude knew he needed to take baby steps with her, so that was what he did. He didn’t even have to ask what she needed to be happy. He just knew.

  What was it that Rude needed?

  Covertly she studied him as he browsed through the bedding selection with all the enthusiasm of a man watching paint dry, and realized they were doing exactly what he needed—this trip was all about weaving their two separate lives into one. No longer was it about her things and his. They were making decisions and building a sanctuary that would fit them both. While that thought terrified her, she couldn’t deny it also sent a sharp thrill of happiness through her. For however long they chose to be together, she would focus on holding onto that happiness with everything she had.

  “I can live with either this or this, but after that I’ve come to the realization that I don’t really give a rat’s ass what color the sheets are. As long as you look good on them while I’m making you scream my name, I’m happy.”

  “Rude.” Darting quick looks around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear him, Sass sighed in exasperation before looking at the two choices he held up. One, a white and black contemporary pattern that was totally wrong for the French Colonial vibe she had going on in the rest of the room, or a monochromatic bronze-on-bronze metallic. Promising. “What’s the thread count on that one?”

  He stared at her. “What the fuck, Sass. I’m not counting threads all day.”

  Oh, shopping with Rude was something else again.

  Ten minutes later, they made their way to the front to check out, with Rude in charge of a cart filled with not just new sheets, but also new pillows, blankets, a bronze-on-bronze duvet and bed skirt—another thing she had to explain. But instead of getting in line, he stopped by a prominent Christmas display and nodded at one of the festively decorated trees on a large dais.

  “What are your thoughts on real versus fake trees?”

  She wondered if her face looked as blank as her brain felt. “Beats me, since I’ve never had one. Are real ones killed just so people can hang stuff on them for a few weeks? That’s kind of wasteful, isn’t it?”

  “That answers my question.” Pulling her close, he leaned into her space until she could feel the whisper of his breath over her suddenly sensitized lips. “We’re getting a tree today, and shit to hang on it, and when we put it up on the first day in December, we’re drinking hot chocolate and eating sugar cookies. It’s a Panuzzi tradition that we’re going to keep up, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She remembered watching the Panuzzis go through that every year, a ritual she always felt like she was intruding on, even after Rude had left for the military. But to think that they were going to do it, just the two of them, gave her such a fierce sense of belonging she couldn’t stop from flinging her arms around his neck and holding on tight. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever.”

  “It will if you get me a Christmas list before Thanksgiving. I don’t shop after Thanksgiving. Too many weirdoes in the world, and every last one of them crawls out of the woodwork as soon as December rolls around.”

  “Okay, but I want your list as—oh.” Looking over his shoulder at the display of decorated trees, she loosened her hold on him to carefully snag an ornament off of a tree. It was a heart frame festooned with mistletoe, and the arched hanger was a ceramic red ribbon with gold writing—Our First Christmas Together. “Look at this. This would be perfect for Scout and Ivar. They could just slide one of their wedding photos in here and have a keepsake forever.”

  “Grab another one. It’s going to be our first Christmas together too.”

  She looked up, surprised and unexpectedly touched that he’d even think about that. “I think this ornament’s just fo
r newlyweds.”

  “Where does it say that on there? I don’t see that written anywhere. Grab another one, we totally qualify.”

  “I just don’t want the Christmas cops to bust me for illegal use of a kitschy keepsake.” More delighted than she wanted to admit, she did as instructed, then frowned down at it. “Wait, we’ve never taken a picture together. Unless you count the time Mama Coco and Papa Bolo had us all stand in front of their new car and made us show it off like we’d just won it in a game show.”

  “If I ever find that picture, you’re going to have to stop me from burning it. Preferably with napalm.” He took out his phone, turned her so that her back was to his front and held the phone out in front of them, his arms on either side of her. “You want kitschy? I’ll give you kitschy. Gimme a big smile.”

  “Oh my God, a selfie. Talk about class.” Laughing, she settled back against him, but instead of looking at the phone she turned her head to press her brow into his warm neck. It never ceased to amaze her how well she fit against him. “Do you realize we’ve done epic amounts of PDAs all day, and I haven’t once given it a thought until now?”

  He turned his head so his mouth could nuzzle the crown of her head. “Know why that is?”

  “You’ve brainwashed me without my noticing?”

  “You finally forgot the rest of the world existed. You’ve been so wrapped up in how hot you are for me, you haven’t been able to think about anything else.”