Then a real hand on my forehead, stroking tenderly.
The twin’s voice again. “Last thing she needs to see is Jackie. Jesus, why did you let Marvin say all that in front of her?”
“Shelby wanted to hear it, and I couldn’t stand in her way.”
A pause. Then the twin. “She’s been sleeping for a few hours now.”
Voice, scraped. “I know . . .”
The veil closing back over me . . . me, going back to the place where I didn’t have to think about mom and I didn’t have to think much at all . . .
***
Fluttering eyelids, the same room, the same hand resting on my head.
“Shelby?”
Micah, sitting on the bed next to me in his room, his legs stretched out. I’d lain down somewhere along the line, folded into myself, my hands fisted under my chin.
I wanted to say, “I’m okay, just resting, just trying to fit all the pieces together,” but there was no energy in me. No will.
Only a sigh as his hand brushed down my cheek, his voice thick.
“God, Shelby. Why’d you have to listen to him?”
I closed my eyes again.
***
Gradually, I came awake, the air feeling like it was full of ghosts, every one of them pressing down on me.
But then I realized that Micah was still next to me on his bed, and all I was feeling was his arm draped over me like he could shield me from anything.
That wasn’t true, though, was it?
One by one, Marvin’s words struck me again: three damn men. My mom drinking and going into a room at a random house party. Nine months later, I’d come along.
I turned my head toward Micah, my face an inch away from his. He was sleeping, the faint evening light seeping through a slit in the curtain and covering him. Even in the blue-gray shade, I could see that his dad hadn’t left any more marks on his face, and slowly, I remembered why that was: Marvin Wyatt had been slamming his fist into Micah’s gut.
He’d done the same to me, but in an entirely different way. And when I’d been done taking the punches, he’d even gone further, commenting about almost being my dad.
That’s when Micah had clocked him, pushed into being a fighter for me once again.
I touched his fading black eye so gently that it couldn’t have hurt him, and then I touched the other bruise near his mouth. By the time my fingers trailed to his lips, my throat felt like it had baked into a crumbling tunnel of emotion, the same feeling pulling in my chest.
I realized Micah’s eyes were open and full of concern and something more. Relief?
Affection?
We didn’t say anything for a moment. If I talked, I was going to cry. Besides, too much had already been said. He knew my shame, knew who—or what—I really was. The worst kind of party favor.
“You okay?” he whispered.
I wasn’t going to lie. “No.”
“Goddammit, Shelby. I was worried as hell about you.”
There was a hitch to his voice, and when he brushed back the hair from my face the truth in his eyes rocked me again.
If I hadn’t known it before, I did now: this was no act. Micah Wyatt had come to feel something for me and me for him.
“I’ll be fine,” I finally said. “It was all just—”
“A shock.”
I nodded, back to not being able to speak. I wasn’t going to cry in front of him.
But then the tears came, suddenly flooding my eyes and rolling down my face. He wiped one off my cheek and I hid against the mattress. I cried and cried because, all along, I’d thought Mom had a nicer story than this. I’d thought she never wanted to tell me about my dad because things hadn’t worked out with him. The truth was that he’d never had a beautiful fling with her and then cluelessly gone off to a wonderful life that she hadn’t wanted to ruin for him because there was a baby to hold him back.
There was no great love of my mom’s life. Not even a steady boyfriend who’d dumped her.
She hadn’t told me his name because she hadn’t known it; my father had been one of three guys she might never have seen again. Marvin might not have known their names, but he’d said my mom’s friends knew them.
Had any of her buddies tried to track down my father?
Knowing Mom, the answer was no. I couldn’t imagine her tying herself to one of three guys who even Marvin Wyatt thought were losers. They’d been good for a teenaged girl’s wild experiment, but not for a lifetime.
I started to sink into a mental bog again, and Micah dug his fingers into my hair like he wanted to bring me back from that. But there was no roughness to him when he only loosened my hair from the rest of its ponytail.
“Don’t you fall away from me again, Shelby,” he said. “Don’t go dark on me.”
He was begging me to come back to him, so I couldn’t leave—not after he’d done his best to defend me against his dad. Besides, Micah had been abandoned enough in life already, and I wouldn’t do that to him again.
“I won’t leave you,” I said. Shit, I was all mucous, my words swamped with it.
Micah reached back, rolling over so that he grabbed something on the floor. He came back with a tissue, drying my eyes and nose.
I pushed his hand away and took the tissue. “I’m disgusting.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I don’t mean just because I’m covered in snot and tears.” I started to pull away from him. “I’m disgusting.”
“Stop talking like that.” He kept petting my hair back, soothing me. “None of us can control who are our fathers are. I’m a fine case of that.”
I swallowed violently, clutching at the tissue. “All these years, I thought Mom was in love, but . . . Jesus, I’m the farthest thing from love you can get. When she found out she was pregnant with me, she must’ve hated what was in her. Three guys, and she’d been drinking . . .”
“And you were the result of this single, bad decision. Not a bad tradeoff.”
He sounded so reasonable. “Don’t act like it’s no big thing. And don’t say something like, ‘At least she wasn’t raped.’”
I was being harsh, but he didn’t seem to mind. He went right on pacifying me with stroke after stroke, watching my face, my every awful expression.
Finally, he said, “I don’t know why your mom did what she did. But she kept you, loved you . . . loves you today more than anything. She went through hell for you, having to brush off everyone’s opinions and judgments in this town.”
I almost started sobbing all over again. Micah was right—Mom could’ve gotten an abortion, erasing her big mistake. But she hadn’t. She’d braved scandal. She’d even chosen me over her own family when she’d moved out of the house and gotten a job at the diner across town, making her own way for the both of us.
Mom had possessed the courage to own up to who she was and what she’d done, even if everyone had labeled her a slut, and she’d done right by me, becoming the most responsible mom ever. I couldn’t even say that I’d been as true to myself like that, because when I’d crossed a personal line, I’d hidden behind Lana Peyton.
How could I question Mom when she’d gone through so much for me?
Micah pulled me closer, and I cuddled into him. He felt so good—those strong arms around me, the warmth of his skin through his T-shirt, the familiar smell of his neck as I nuzzled against him.
My voice shook. “I want to cry for her. She endured so much, and here I am, having a crisis. God, when I think about all my drama this summer, it’s nothing compared to what she’s been through. I’m such a bitch.”
“Not really.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Okay, maybe a little.”
He made me laugh my way into another sob, hugging me even closer. But I was a total whiny bitch because, in the back
of my mind, the questions just kept coming. Who was I now? Was I the same girl I’d been before, back when I’d thought my dad was a regular old guy? And in light of how I was conceived, was I always meant to be a Lana Peyton, as wild as my mom?
Micah kissed the top of my head until I calmed down. I felt better after that crying. Much better.
“So how’re you gonna handle this?” he asked.
I sighed against him, everything about him so warm. “I have no idea. Now I know why she never gave me the truth. At least she never lied to me, though.”
“That’s honorable.”
Micah Wyatt, pointing out what honor was. I wished everyone could see it and shut up about him.
I went on. “Mom’s always been so honest with me—just like you are—and if she’d wanted me to know, she would’ve told me everything. Will she think I’ll hate her if I know the truth?”
“Not hate. But you’re right—she probably would’ve told you if she wanted you to know. It sounds like she made a definite decision, or else she could’ve given you some line about a visitor in town who drove off and got in a car accident and never came back. She respected you too much to lie, and maybe she’d hope for the same respect from you as far as her decision goes.”
I pressed my hands against his back, getting him as close to me as I could. He was my saving grace, the one reason I wasn’t totally adrift right now. I’d never expected him, but now that he was here, I didn’t want to let him go.
And he was the voice of reason, too. How would I handle this with Mom? I didn’t want to shame her by telling her that I knew. She’d kept her dignity around me for years, and this would change everything between us.
I didn’t want to shame her. Ever.
“Your dad,” I whispered against Micah. “What if he tells?”
“Baby, no one’s ever gonna hurt you. Not while I’m with you, so don’t worry about a thing. No one’s ever gonna know.”
“But—”
“The twins got him out of town, and they gave him enough money to shut him up. Now that he let the cat out of the bag with you, he’s got no leverage. I’ll make sure he won’t be back for a while.”
“They shouldn’t have given him money for my sake.”
“We needed to do something, and I’m gonna pay him a visit myself soon, get him to see he needs to clean up his act for good.”
His cracked voice made it sound like his heart was shattering, too, and I looked up at him. His gaze was haunted, but it was strong as he looked into my eyes. I hoped I could be just as strong for him with his dad.
But right now, I was weak. I needed the one person who knew everything about me, and Micah was it.
“I’m gonna protect you from everything,” he murmured. “You’re my Shelby. You have been since the second I saw you in the shop, when you came in with your cut-off shorts and your blond hair and tanned skin and long legs. You were everything I’d been hoping you’d be, but more. I’d wanted you, just from hearing about you, but after I met you . . .”
My arms still around him, I fisted his shirt, waiting for the rest.
It never came. But there was a feeling in the air.
Love?
It didn’t seem possible that anyone could want me, with my tear-smudged eyes and tainted past. But maybe he felt it.
Love . . . Such a scary concept that I hadn’t been sure I’d ever embrace again after my false start with Rex. But here was Micah, almost saying it. And it wasn’t for a bet. It couldn’t be, not with the deep emotion I saw in his gaze, the gray openness and vulnerability that I’d only witnessed in flashes before—flashes that I’d doubted.
He noted my silence. “I know that you don’t know what you feel. It’s okay. I sprung this on you, but it’s just how I’m feeling.”
His honesty was killing me. It was slipping its way into my pores and rushing down, down to the most secret parts of me, meeting in my center, growing there like a warm spot I could feel. I didn’t know what I was feeling for Micah, but I wanted to show him whatever it was, wanted to take comfort in him, forget everything but him.
As he watched me, I lifted my hand, reaching up to tug on the band that kept his hair gathered at his nape. When it was loose, I brushed the strands apart with my fingers. Thick and silky.
Keeping my fingers in his hair, I kissed him softly, tentatively.
“Shelby . . .” he said on a whisper.
“Don’t tell me to stop.” I wanted to make him feel better, just as he’d done for me. I wasn’t the only one who’d been injured today.
He would understand how happy we could make each other. It’d only taken his father’s visit to make me see what I had in front of me. What I’d almost turned aside.
I kissed him again and, at first, he merely pulled at the bottom of my blouse. And the longer we kissed, the more I could feel his protests melt away. He’d been a gentleman all afternoon, lying in bed with me. And he would still be one, but in a way I’d never let him be before.
I pressed against him, feeling his hard body along my length . . . feeling something else going hard as it prodded my leg.
“I won’t be able to stop,” he said against my mouth.
“I don’t want you to this time,” I said, resting my hand on his chest, where his pulse rammed against his breastbone.
And when I traveled my hand lower to his belly, then to the first button at his fly, he groaned, the sound vibrating through my lips and shuddering its carnal way down until I ached for him more than ever.
19
I undid the first button on his jeans as he gripped my shirt, pulling me closer. He kissed me with such fervor I thought I was going to burn up, curling to ash on the outside as fire devoured me on its way in.
My shorts were pressing against my clit, and I squirmed, needing him to touch me there, to rub and massage me until that fire consumed me all the way. So I took his hand and led him to where I throbbed for him brutally, uncontrollably.
He got the hint, undoing my zipper, undoing me. At the same time, I made quick work of the buttons on his fly, too, but before I finished, I gave in to temptation, sliding my palm over the bulge in his jeans, cupping him.
Everything seemed to stop—the air in the room, time itself. Even my crazed heartbeat suspended in my chest like it’d jumped up and was hanging there, spread out like it was ready to dive into someplace a so-called angel like me had only fantasized about with Micah.
His hands were still pulling on my shirt, his breathing stopping altogether. But as I stroked up and down, feeling his excitement, he finally let that breath out on an agonized moan.
And, God, I loved hearing it. I thrilled to it, my blood flaring one direction and then another, destroying me cell by cell until I wasn’t sure if there was anything left in me but liquid heat.
He put one hand over mine, pressing my palm harder against his erection. As I felt how ready he was, a burst of a different kind of fear singed me.
Sex . . . I’d never liked it much before. And here I was, about to have it again. But I’d never craved anyone like this, never wanted to explore like I was exploring Micah as I slipped my hand all the way into his pants, bringing him out, holding his hard length.
“Dammit, Shelby . . .”
Did he want me to stop? To go?
When he led my hand in slow, sure strokes over him, there was no question anymore, and I watched in erotic fascination, even if I could barely see in the dimness. I’d never watched myself touch a man before, had only felt someone else’s skin against mine in the darkness or had only imagined Lana doing things like this with the lights on.
I could tell Micah was watching me stroke him, too, his forehead against mine as his breath chopped against my cheek. “I’ve wanted to be inside you so many times, Shelby, wanted you to touch me . . .”
“Me, too.” But not too soon. I longed for th
ese breath-crushed moments, these rousing caresses to last forever.
I wished it all could last forever, longer than just a summer.
Was it my electrified hormones talking? I didn’t care, because right now, Micah was the person I felt closest to. He was the only one who knew my biggest secret. He knew who I really was, and it didn’t matter to him.
He was mine and I was his.
I skimmed my thumb over the head of him, and his hand tightened over mine. Moisture made his tip slick, and I rubbed the pre-ejaculate against him. Desperately, he kissed me, his tongue stroking mine as I responded with just as much urgent passion. My mind fogged, and I swore I could feel wisps of smoke creating sensual shapes inside me, undulating and coming more awake than ever.
As I coasted my fingers down him, he groaned into my mouth, then suddenly pushed back from me, sitting up and stripping off his T-shirt. His gaze was on me the entire time, his eyes wild, even in the dimness, and I wiggled out of my blouse, my bra, my shorts.
By the time he leaned over to his nightstand and turned on the light, he didn’t have a stitch on. And, dear God, he was beautiful—his dark blond hair loose, framing that bruised, tough-guy face and brushing his wide shoulders. His muscles were smooth, chiseled under his skin. Tanned and sleek, he ran a steamy gaze over me, and without thinking, I crossed an arm over myself, even if he’d seen me before.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered. “I want to see you. All of you.”
I almost told him that I’d never gone all the way with the lights on, and Rex had always been too busy for sex during the day. And after I’d brought Lana Peyton into the picture, there were times I’d wondered if he was imaging her underneath him instead of me. I wondered if he’d ever really seen me.
But the desire on Micah’s face said that he wasn’t thinking about Lana now, and I let my arm fall away, exposing myself to him.
No more “other woman.” I was her and she was me.
As he crawled over the bed, I realized that he’d grabbed a condom from his nightstand. I was on the pill, but I was glad he’d be coming prepared.
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