Red (Love in Color Series Book 1)

by SM West

  Likewise, Carys and Tate have become fast friends. They are good for each other. Outside of Julia, Tate doesn’t have too many friends. She needs girlfriends. And Carys, while she won’t admit it, having Tate has helped her deal with all the shit with Van. She won’t talk to me about it. She’s opened to Tate. It puts my mind at ease to know she trusts Tate enough to confide in her. Tate, the ever-loyal friend, brother or no brother, hardly tells me anything.

  “Hey.” Tate kisses the back of my neck before wrapping her arms around my middle.

  Turning to face her, my thumb and forefinger lightly grip her chin, tilting her head so I can kiss her. Hard, long and sweet. Fuck, this never gets old.

  “You left the door unlocked. Again,” I growl.

  Tate waves a hand at me like she’s swatting a fly. Turning to the stove, I lift the lid, a heady aroma of tomato, garlic and basil accost my senses. On instinct, my stomach growls and saliva floods my mouth. I stir one more time and then turn it down to simmer.

  “Don’t do that,” I say firmly. “Please do this for me. Lock the door. You were in the shower. What if someone else had just walked in.”

  “Sorry, you’re right. I suppose living so many years under lock and key has made me reckless with safety. I promise I’ll try harder.”

  Tate’s strong. She’s survived the ticking time bomb that was her life, staring down the barrel of a gun while her freedom was crushed and stifled by those fuckers. And even though she can handle pretty much anything, the thought of her being hurt again terrifies me. And I hate being terrified of anything.

  This drives me to do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Like telling her to lock the door. I love that she’s carefree and confident in herself, in our life, but this world is a fucking cesspool of cold, dark and painful shit. Everyone faces some aspect of hardship at some point in their lives, she’s done her fucking time. As long as I have something to say about it, she’ll never have to endure anything dark or painful again.

  “Thank you,” I say, grateful and hopeful she’s heard me. “Taste this.”

  I lift the spoon with the fragrant sauce, lightly blow on it before carefully offering it to her.

  “Open,” my command’s gruff.

  It’s hard to look at her and not get carried away with thoughts of how I’d prefer spending the night with her, rather than with family and friends. I intently watch her red tongue lick her lips before opening her mouth for me. Gently, bringing the spoon to her lips, the hot, rich tomato sauce touches her tongue. She emits a low sensual moan. My cock twitches as she swallows the liquid, licking her lips again.

  “Delicious.”

  I nod, placing the spoon in my mouth to lick it clean. She pins me with a wanton stare. Smirking, I turn on my heel toward the stove. At the same time, there’s a knock at the door, signaling the arrival of everyone.

  As much as I want to spend the night alone with Tate, the evening flies by with laughter, chatter and a lot of fun. Tate’s shining face at our friends and family is worth the few hours I must share her.

  “So, Max, how long are you here for?” Carys asks. Her eyes glossy, cheeks rosy as she flips her long dark hair over her shoulder. Shit, is she interested in Max?

  “Two weeks. I’m here talking to some of the hospitals about the possibility of residency down the road.”

  “Do you like to dance?”

  All conversation ceases. The entire table’s watching their exchange. Julia’s usual mischievous grin is plastered on her face, she and Tripp have been harmlessly flirting all night. Coop’s smirking and Leanne’s interested in where this is going. Tate and Ma are curious too. Tripp and I are tense.

  “Yes. You want to go out one night?” Max says catching on quickly.

  “I’d love to.”

  “Great, here’s my phone, program your number.”

  Max passes it across the table. Tate eyes me across the table, asking if I’m okay with this.

  I’m not really sure if I am. Max is a great guy. We’ve gotten to know each other these past few months through Tate’s weekly FaceTime chats. And I’ve deliberately tried to get to know him while he’s staying with us.

  But he’s not Van. Carys belongs with Van. I’ve no doubt my sister would have something to say about that. And Van, fuck if I know what he’d say. I used to know him like I knew myself. Now I don’t know. We haven’t spoken in over a year. I have no fucking clue where he is.

  Conversation resumes and shortly after, we take things outside. Everyone’s scattered around the patio. Tate sits on my lap, one arm draped over my shoulder. Mine hooks around her waist, anchoring her to me. When Tate’s in my arms, I’m at peace. Ma sits beside us, smiling. She clasps Tate’s hand to get her attention. I smirk and wink at Ma, knowing what’s coming.

  “Honey, dinner was lovely,” she starts.

  “Thank you. I can’t take credit. Ry’s the cook, I’m just his sous-chef and I use the word ‘chef’ loosely,” she laughs.

  “You two are a great team,” Ma offers. “Rylan will say I’m a sappy, old woman…”

  “Hey,” I cut in. “I’d never say old.”

  “Whatever,” she quips, giving me a wry smile. “You make my son happy. You’re good for him. And you’re as much my daughter as he’s my son.”

  Tate momentarily tenses, sucking in a shaky breath. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears of joy.

  To Ma, those words are true and pure. Significant but not formidable. To Tate, they are earth-shattering. My woman deserves to be loved and cherished. Other than Max and Julia, and Griffin once upon a time, she’s not had an abundance of love. But, here tonight, she’s surrounded by it and Ma’s just making sure she knows it.

  Tate leaps from my lap, I miss her instantly, and ardently embraces Ma. She whispers into my mother’s ear. Ma squeezes her, rubs her back and then kisses her.

  “Hey, I want in on the action,” quips Coop with Carys not far behind.

  Before I know it, Tate’s engulfed in a group hug. Everyone here tonight loves her immeasurably and would do anything for her. If she didn’t already know it, she does now.

  “Alright, alright. Coming through, enough manhandling of my woman,” I jest as I take my turn to envelope her in my arms.

  She readily sinks into me on a breathy sigh. Her soft, warm lips skate over my neck with gentle, almost-not-there, kisses.

  “I love you, Rylan Wolfe,” she whispers into the crook of my neck while hugging me tight.

  “I love you, too.”

  Not long after, the party winds down ‘til it’s just Max, Tate and me. Max is no fool. He says goodnight and makes himself scarce. Leaving us alone. Finally.

  Turning off the lights, I check the locks and set the alarm. Once inside the privacy of our bedroom, I shed my clothes, hop into bed and secure my arms firmly around her back. Face to face, her warm, soft curves hug my body. Just where I like her.

  Having her close to my heart, my body and my soul gives me a moment of peace and contemplation. We’ve been through a lot. We’ve battled our demons and at times, even fought each other as we waded through it all. And while things were life-threatening, we had the vibrant, visceral, verity of our extreme love, like the red-blooded life force running through our bodies, empowering us to survive anything.

  “I think tonight went well,” she says. I nod. “Sorry about Max and Carys. Your sister wants to start dating. Not sure Max is the way to go. I know he won’t hurt her,” Tate reassures.

  “Tate, you can’t say that. You don’t know for sure what’ll happen. My sister’s a big girl and as much as I’d like to keep her from getting hurt, she needs to live her life the way she wants.”

  “Does it bother you? Knowing she wants to date? Move on?” she pushes.

  I’ve shared my thoughts on Van. She knows I’m worried and at a loss. He’s my brother. I can’t find him. I can’t help him if he needs me. I hope to God he doesn’t need me because it’d kill me if I couldn’t be there for him.

  “A
little. But Van left her.” My hand weaves through her long, thick hair, holding the nape of her neck. “I always thought or actually just knew it’d be Carys and Van. To see them over, it’s strange and sad.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she says, snuggling in closer.

  “Well, you’ll never have to find out,” I respond kissing her forehead and tightening my hold.

  “BEST FUCKING HONEYMOON, EVER.” HIS low, gravelly words tumble into my mouth. I willingly swallow his warm, vibrating sound. His lips greedily destroy me as my shameless, primitive ache swells through my body.

  “You sound like you’ve had one before,” I jest.

  “Nuh-uh, my first and last, beautiful.”

  His teeth lightly nip at my bottom lip with firm lips trailing along my jaw and down my neck. A contented sigh whispers past my lips. Dizzy with need, I slip from the here and now into lust and want.

  “Tate, you’re my first and last everything - everything that matters,” he affirms in a low and velvety voice.

  My eyes pop open, gazing into those cerulean eyes I love losing myself in. His smile full, eyes twinkling with love, lust, and longing.

  “I love you, Ry,” I breathlessly sigh as I wrap my legs around his waist.

  “I love you, Mrs. Wolfe,” he whispers in my ear, nibbling on my lobe.

  Carrying me through our place, his lips worship every inch of my neck and chest before gently tossing me on our bed. Climbing onto the mattress, his animalistic prowl produces undulations low in my belly. Lying on our bed, spread out like on an altar, I willing offer myself for consummation.

  We’ve been together for a while now and just spent two weeks alone on a beach in Fiji. Absolute paradise. We swam, talked, laughed, ate, drank and devoured each other any chance we got. No matter how many times or how many ways he has me, every time is as thrilling and as breathtaking as the first.

  His touch, words and love are the passion, light and love that abolished the violence, dark and hate from my life. The world is a pitiless, vile place. Even with all its vast array of darkness, there are always shades of red, vibrant love coloring our life. Ry is my color.

  As we settled into a life together and our wedding day neared, we realized we had one thing left to face. Griffin.

  The first time I visited his grave, Patrick was at my side. It was fitting to share with him my extreme and cathartic emotions at being physically near to Griffin. If only in spirit. In some ways, we both came nearer to the elusive closure that evaded us. Since then, I’ve gone on my own and with Ma and Carys. Ry also goes alone. We finally went together for the first time two days before our wedding.

  Our mutual yet individual guilt loomed over our upcoming nuptials and our future knowing his death brought us together. We both love him immensely and miss him daily. And we needed to come to terms with his death leading to our eventual union.

  It was Ry who provided the solace we both urgently sought. Holding my hand as we stared at Griffin’s tombstone, he opened up and shared.

  “For the longest time, I tried not to think about you and Griff. I was irrationally jealous. And then I realized it wasn’t jealousy, it was my guilt. For finding you, falling for you and loving you. His girl.

  “Over time, especially while we were apart, I came to realize you were his gift to me. I was his gift to you. He’d want this,” he earnestly said, turning to face me, both my hands in his.

  “He’d want to know you were happy, in love, building a life and he’d want the same for me. I know in my heart, he’d be happy for us, at peace knowing you’re adored and cherished and it’s me giving that to you. I want to give you the world. Always and forever.”

  That day our guilt was laid to rest. We made peace with finding each other despite his death and the hell and pain that got us here.

  Slowly opening my eyes, I glance over at my gorgeous husband peacefully slumbering at my side. After feasting on each other, we napped. Lying there, I don’t want to move forward. It’s hard to want to get back to reality after spending every minute together for the past fourteen days.

  I’ll treasure those days, naked, blissed out with Ry. Our life will be good, fantastic. But if I’ve learned only one thing from my short life, it’s that life doesn’t know how to do only good. There’ll be bad, dark and definitely ugly.

  I still have moments when something I see or hear brings back a dark, vivid memory. It’s in those times, on the dark days when shit won’t leave us alone, I’ll draw upon my moments with Ry, because even with all the bad and dark in this world, the color, the beauty and the good make it worthwhile.

  My phone vibrates on the bedside table. I quickly grab it so as not to wake Ry. It’s Max.

  “Hey handsome,” I whisper, carefully slipping out from under Ry’s arm. “Hang on a sec.” Nabbing his shirt off the floor, I slip it on and leave the room. “K, I’m back. How are you?”

  “Tate,” his low and weary tone alerts me.

  “Max, what’s wrong?” He doesn’t respond. Fear ratchets through my mind with his silence. “Max?”

  “Shit, Bear, I shouldn’t have called you,” he says remorsefully.

  “No, don’t say that. You should’ve. What’s wrong? Tell me,” I implore.

  Sinking into the sofa, my legs curl under me. I pull Ry’s shirt over my legs, blanketing myself for what’s to come. Max was here two weeks ago. He came for my wedding. We’d spent the week leading up to our nuptials together. He wasn’t quite himself. Every time I’d asked, he refused to talk about it. I asked about our mother and Max shut it down. I can’t help but think this is about her.

  “Taya won’t allow me to practice medicine in London,” he starts.

  “What do you mean? I thought you wanted to come home eventually?”

  “I can’t…” His silence quickly clues me in. She’s listening to his calls.

  While I cut my mother out of my life, Max hasn’t. His contact is limited although enough that Taya won’t leave him alone. I think he hasn’t severed ties because of me. Thinking if he’s still in the picture, she won’t come after me. I don’t know if that’s true. I’d bet my life she knows all there is to know about me. Even without making contact. And she could show up at my doorstep at any moment.

  “I get it,” I quickly respond.

  “I know you do, but you also don’t.” What is he talking about?

  “Max, just tell me,” I say exasperated.

  “I’m coming back to the US. To practice medicine. The process has already started,” he states.

  Max had been talking about coming back to the states for a while now. And then he changed his mind, without explanation, he wanted to stay in England. He’s holding back on the reason why. My mother is somehow involved. I feel it in my bones.

  “That’s amazing. Isn’t it?”

  Ry’s hand tenderly squeezes my shoulder. Sitting beside me, he brings me into his strong, warm arms. His face rests close to mine so he can hear.

  “Yeah,” he flatly says.

  My stomach drops. There’s more that he’s not saying. More to do with Taya.

  “Max, talk to me,” I plea.

  “It’s just a lengthy process. I’ll be coming back soon to take the US Medical Licensing Exams and also start to get some clinic hours banked. I also have to become ECFMG certified. It’s just…”

  Ry and I share a knowing look. Over the past few years, Ry and Max have grown close. We both know Max is a fighter. Nothing gets in his way. Practicing medicine here has always been his goal, I’m not sure why he sounds defeated.

  “You knew it would take time. You can do it. You will do it,” I firmly state. “What’s really going on?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Just wanted to talk to my sis, to tell you. Hope you had an amazing honeymoon. I’ll see you in a few weeks. I’ll want your help with finding a place.”

  “Max, we’re talking soon. I’m thrilled you’re coming home. I’ve missed you and want you near,” I stress. Ry pulls m
e tighter, nodding. “We want you near.”

  “Love you, Bear. Say hi to Ry,” he says before ending the call.

  Holding the phone tightly to my chest, I rest my head on Ry’s shoulder.

  “What was that about?”

  “Wish I knew. Something’s off. He wanted to say more. He mentioned my mother, said she won’t let him practice in London.”

  Ry stiffens at the mention of my mother. Something imperceptible skates across his face, his jaw clenches. I know all his looks. He’s guarded.

  “What? You know something.”

  “No, I don’t. I just don’t fucking like anything to do with that bitch,” he mutters.

  “I know.”

  Before I can press further, his phone rings. He walks to the kitchen, eyes on me as he answers.

  “Wolfe,” he says, his posture tensing by the second. “Fuck. Dex, you should have called me the goddamn second you spotted him,” he roars.

  I don’t know who Dex is or what’s going on, but I can tell it’s not good. My chest tightens as his features harden and intensify. Needing to console him, I head his way.

  “Yeah, I know where it is. The dumb fuck’s MY brother, I’ll be there in thirty.” The phone sails across the room, shattering against the wall as he roars.

  “Ry.” My arms surround him. Fortunately, he returns my hold. He’s vibrating with tension. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s Van. They’ve found him,” he starts harshly, tapering to barely a whisper.

  Van’s still missing. As our wedding approached, he turned the world upside down looking for him. Calling in every favor, but nothing. He desperately wanted Van at our wedding, to be his best man. Evan’s absence weighed heavily on him and was an inevitable shadow over the wedding festivities. Ry tries to hide it, but it’s clear that Van’s disappearance eats away at him.