by Max Henry
She peaked an eyebrow, and smiled. “Is that so?”
Trevor dumped his duffle on the ground next to the car, and walked to the waist-high block wall that ran the outside of the floor. He leant his elbows on the top, and looked out over the traffic below, his black hair moving with the warm night air.
“What are those lights over there?”
Steph crossed to where he stood, looking in the direction he pointed.
“That’s the top of the Gateway bridge. It’s got some other name now, but I never remember it.”
“Yeah?” He straightened, hands still on the wall. “Must be pretty high.”
“Wait until we cross it.”
“We doing that tonight?” He looked around at her, and she averted her gaze. The intensity of his eyes did strange things to her conscience—or was it that Pete had slid up behind her? How could either of them know?
“No, um, not tonight. But we will when Pete and I show you around. Right?”
Pete’s hands wrapped around her waist. He splayed one palm across her belly as the other traced a path up her abdomen to the swell of her breast.
“Sorry, Love. I wasn’t payin’ attention.”
Oh, God. Neither was she now.
Her eyes fell closed when his lips touched the sweet spot behind her ear. He kissed a line down the nape of her neck, as his hand crested the top of her dress. Her nipple swelled the instant his rough fingers flicked the tip.
“Pete …” The word fell from her lips on a whisper, carried away on the night breeze. She had to say something. Lying by omission felt wrong.
His hand on her belly travelled lower as the other continued to tease, and pinch her throbbing nipple. All trace of thought vanished. She couldn’t care less that Trevor was right there beside them, even when she registered the fabric of her dress rising to her waist. Lost in the moment, it was only them: no airport, no car park, no Trevor.
Trevor.
The word sung in her subconscious until it became a deafening roar in her head. Steph snapped her eyes open, and gasped at the way her body reacted to find him watching.
He leant on the low wall, head hung between his shoulders, watching them from a sideways glance. The heat in his eyes told her he’d been watching the whole time.
Steph stayed fixed to his stare, unable to break it as her body went crazy at feeling Pete’s hands on her flesh again. Her emotions were haywire as it was, but the thought that Trevor watched them in such an intimate moment had heat pooling at the top of her thighs.
Oh, God. Is this normal?
She lifted a hand to seek out Pete’s head, wrapping her hand about the back of his neck as he continued to kiss her shoulder.
Trevor turned so his body faced them, an elbow still propped on the wall.
“How does it feel, Love?” Pete murmured against her neck.
“Amazing.”
“I can’t tell ya enough how much I missed ya. I want to hear everythin’ you’ve been doin’ while I was gone.” Pete moved her around him so that the back of her legs pressed up against the front of the rod.
Everything you’ve been doing. Panic at her lies threw her off her game. Steph desperately looked for something to halt him that wouldn’t appear too obvious. “Won’t we set the alarm off?” she asked as he hoisted her onto the hood.
“The sensitivity isn’t set that low.” He gave her a quizzical look, as though to say ‘what does it matter?’
“Oh,” she replied.
He placed his hands either side of her butt, and leant in to take her mouth in a hot, short, straight to the point statement of claim.
Steph glanced over Pete’s shoulder as he pulled away, and caught Trevor’s eye. He winked at her, and gave a quick salute to Pete as he also turned to look at the big guy.
She hesitated when Pete turned back to face her, shifting marginally away from him when he leant in to kiss her. He edged back, and looked at her with his brow furrowed.
“Everythin’ okay, Love?”
“Of course it is,” she said a little too eagerly.
Trevor turned to face them, and frowned also. “Even I could see through that, sweetheart.”
“Why would anything be wrong?” she snapped.
“Come on, Love. Let’s get home.” Pete sighed, and stepped back to let her off the car.
She bit her bottom lip to stop the damn thing from wobbling, and slid off the vehicle. Sure, her head was on another topic entirely, but it had to be bad if they could both see it.
Steph yanked the car door open as soon as the lights flashed, and dropped into the passenger seat.
Not a word was spoken while Trevor crammed himself in the back, and Pete took the driver’ seat. He put the key in the ignition, and turned the engine over. Steph crossed her arms, and waited while the engine idled for them to get going.
A minute passed, then two.
Trevor cleared his throat.
“Why aren’t we going anywhere?” she bit out a little harsher than intended.
“Love, I ain’t drivin’ us anywhere until you address the giant elephant in the room.”
“Which would be?”
“Why you’re sulking.”
“I’m not bloody sulking.”
“Yes, you are,” Trevor spoke quietly.
“Fine, I am. So what? What do you expect me to do after you get me wound up, then stop it short because you think I’m not okay?”
Pete sighed, and ran an inked hand through his hair. She noticed for the first time how much it had grown in only a week apart. The extra length softened his hard appearance, and made him look boyish in character. “Don’t take is so personally, Love.”
She twisted in her seat to face them both. “How can I not take it personally?”
Pete exchanged glances with Trevor.
She softened a little seeing how lost they were with what to say next. “I’m sorry, guys. I know I’m over-reacting. You’re both right.”
“Something else is bothering you, isn’t it?” Pete laid a hand on her leg.
Steph stared at the touch, and slumped under the weight of her guilt. All he was trying to do is think of her feelings first, and she was throwing it all back in his face. “Yeah, there is something else.”
She didn’t miss the way his body stiffened.
“Did something happen while I was gone?”
“Kind of.”
“Kind of?” Pete ducked his head to meet her eyes. “It either did, or it didn’t, Love.”
“It did. I had a problem, but I dealt with it … mostly.”
“Mostly?” Trevor echoed, settling back into the seat.
“I need a bit of help with the last part.”
“Love, you’re confusin’ the hell outta me, here.”
She sighed, and placed her hand over Pete’s. “I know. I just don’t feel like this is the right place to talk about it.”
Her eyes followed Pete’s throat as he swallowed hard. “Did you, I mean, was there someone …” He tried to pull his hand away, but she held firm.
“I can’t believe you’d think that.”
“It’s natural for me to assume the worst.” He twisted back to driving position, and backed the rod from its parking spot. “Talk while I drive. If I’m distracted I might take it better.”
She shook her head, and smiled, but cut it short when her gaze crossed over the worried look on Trevor’s face as he glanced between them.
“Seriously, Baby. It isn’t anything bad for you, or us. It’s easier if I show you when we get home.”
“If you say so, Love.” He reached over, and grabbed a hold of her hand, placing it under his on the shifter. “I trust you.”
The headlights swept over the front of her house, revealing nothing out of the ordinary. Pete switched the rod off, relieved. His mind had gone into overdrive with what she’d said at the airport, and truth be told, he was a little worried about how things had gone down while he’d been gone.
No matter how much h
e’d asked her, she’d refused to say much about anyone other than Ben, and her dad. If he asked her about Derek, she muttered a single word reply, and switched subjects.
“I’ll get the jug on for a coffee, yeah?”
Steph was out the door before he could open his mouth to answer. He watched the sway of her hips as she walked along the front path. His cock twitched at the need to finish what they’d started, but for a change, he recognized that he should think with his brain first. Something was wrong with cutie, and he didn’t feel right sinking himself into her until she’d told him what.
Trevor contorted himself out of the car, and dropped the duffle at his feet to stretch with his hands over his head. “Fuck man. You need a bigger car.”
Pete swung his door shut, and hit the alarm. “You need your own fuckin’ car.”
Trevor laughed, and walked ahead, bag in hand. They crossed through the open doorway to the sound of boiling water, and the fridge opening. Neither of them had specifically asked for a drink—she simply exhibited the need to occupy herself with something. He exchanged glances with the big guy, and shut the door.
Trevor dropped his things next to the armchair, and sunk into the cushions with an appreciative groan. The guy’s back still caused him grief. Pete had tried to get him to admit he needed a doctor, but the man was as stubborn as he was large, and insisted it would come right with time. Pete searched out the Advil from Steph’s kitchen cupboards, and tossed the packet Trevor’s way.
“Cheers.” He popped two pills, and guzzled them back with half a bottle of water.
Now that he had the big guy taken care of, Pete turned his focus towards Steph who stirred the drinks. The overpowering scent of lavender caught his attention, and he noted at least a doaen partially used candles on the counter-top. He slipped his hands around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder to watch the frantic way her hand spun the teaspoon.
“Tell me what’s botherin’ ya, Love. I can’t stand you being so distant.”
Her body relaxed in his hold, and she dropped the teaspoon in the nearby sink. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just tell me what’s wrong. You haven’t quite been yerself since I saw you at the arrival gates, and as much as I can’t wait to show ya how much I’ve missed ya, I need to know what’s wrong first.”
She pulled in a large breath, and leant her head back on his shoulder, placing her cheek against his. “I know I’m a bit distant, but it’s kind of hard to talk about, I don’t know where to start.”
“In your own time, then,” he reassured.
Several tense minutes passed before she began on a whisper.
“Ivan came over.”
He swallowed the rage that bloomed at the mere mention of the jackass’s name. “And?” His arms squeezed her waist a little harder.
“He argued with me. We fought, and, well—”
“Love, I’m dying here.” Heat engulfed the back of his neck. His pulse hammered in his temples.
“Come with me,” she said.
He let her pull from his grasp, and lead the way through the house to the spare room. She paused outside the door, and looked over to him with a pained expression.
“I’m not sure what you’re going to say, but I can’t ignore it any longer.” She covered her mouth, and nose with her hand, and gestured for him to do the same. Tears welled in her eyes.
He frowned, and reached for the door handle.
Small sobs started behind him as he pushed down, and swung the door open. The stench hit him harder than a road train. He gagged, unprepared for the smell, and turned away to stifle his urge to vomit.
“Jesus!”
“I didn’t know what to do,” Steph wailed. “I didn’t know what to do.” She buried her face in her hands, and slid down the wall to sit on the floor in a ball.
He grabbed at his hair, torn between comforting Steph, and dealing with the major issue they had.
Trevor rounded the corner of the hallway, and stopped dead in his tracks. “Fuck.”
“Rich, all right.”
Pete stepped into the room—hand sealed over his face—and winced at the sight. Ivan lay face down in the early stages of decay. He praised whoever wanted to listen that the guy wasn’t laid out on his back. He was spared the sight of the bugged out eyes, and bloated features that accompanied a body this many days past death. What had fucking happened while he was away? What went down?
Steph howled from her position in the hallway, pulling him from his spiralling thoughts. He quickly stepped out of the room, coughing. Trevor closed the door behind him, fanning the air in front of his face.
Like that will help.
“I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to do,” Steph repeated, over and over.
His heart clenched, and he dropped to his knees before her. “You do nothing, okay Love? Trevor and I will sort this out. You do nothing.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and pulled her close.
Trevor tapped him twice on the shoulder in support, and disappeared into the kitchen. He returned a short time later with several rubbish bags, and an armful of towels.
“Wish me luck,” he quipped, and disappeared into the room.
“What’s he going to do?” Steph asked between sobs. Her hands found the front of his shirt.
He looked at the closed door, and back at his broken woman. “He’s gonna do what he does best.”
“Should we help him?”
“No. You and I are going for a walk to get some fresh air, and you’re goin’ to tell me what happened while I was gone.”
Even if it would kill him to know.
***
Five blocks they walked, and five blocks she stared straight ahead, lost in her head. He couldn’t stand the distance a second longer. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go when he returned.
Not by a long shot.
Pete reached out, and entwined his fingers with hers. She obliged, but didn’t pay him any obvious attention while they continued to walk. He dug his heels in, and turned her toward him.
“Love, this has to stop.”
“What?”
“Get out of here.” He tapped the side of her head. “You’re overthinkin’ things. What’s goin’ on in there, huh? Tell me.”
She looked to the ground, and drew a deep breath. “Do you ever wonder what things would be like if we’d never met? If I’d stayed home that night instead?”
His brow bunched as he tried to decipher where she was headed with this. “Do you?”
“Sometimes.”
He sought out her other hand, and held them both in his. “Do you regret meetin’ me? Us?”
Steph’s head shot up, and she stared at him wide-eyed. “God, no. Never. I’m sorry, Baby. That’s not what I meant.”
He let out the breath he’d kept captive while she spoke. “Then what in lord’s name are ya talkin’ about?”
“Do you think half of this would have happened if our path’s hadn’t crossed?” She shook her head, and obviously struggled to put together the right words to convey her thoughts. “I mean, if Richard hadn’t known a thing about me, with you, then would he have let it go? Not tried to come after me? Do you think Ivan would have kept up his fake friendship?” She shut her eyes, and bit her lip.
“What’s goin’ on in there? Keep talkin’.” He could see her withdraw, and like fuck he’d let her go it alone again.
She’d done enough on her own.
Steph opened her eyes again, and the shock written in her features left a weight in the pit of his gut.
“I killed Ivan, Pete. I bloody killed someone. I’ve been trying to deny it, shut it away, and ignore the problem. But shit, there’s a fucking body in my house.” Her hands shook in his grasp.
“Sometimes it’s what has to be done.”
She scoffed, and let go of his hands. “Of course you’d say that.”
“You’re doin’ it again.”
“What now?” she snapped.
“Pushin’ me away.”
“We’re so different,” she wailed. “At least, we were,” Steph whispered.
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“Being different?” she queried.
“Not being so different any more.”
She stared into the darkness. It took every ounce of his willpower to let her be—let her think it through. The tension in his chest eased at the same time as her features softened. She turned back to face him, and offered a small smile.
“I guess it’s not such a bad thing.” She reached out, wrapping her arms about his waist, and nestling her head into his chest. “I sort of thought that when we finally fit together, it would be different, you know?”
“I know.”
And he did. He fucking well knew all right. Every time he’d envisioned their future together it had been one where he was settled with Steph, holding a legit job, and keeping up appearances. Not one where she’d slipped across to his side of the law, one where he was worried for her state of mind.
Not so long ago he’d been convinced it was her that wouldn’t be able to handle him. He was adamant she would leave when she realized how much trouble he was, how hard to handle he could be.
But having been on the other side of the equation, seeing her struggle, and knowing that every time she fell he wanted to be the one to dust her off, and get her on her feet again, he couldn’t believe he’d been that closed minded.
How selfish was he for wanting to push her away to save her the hassle of dealing with his past?
Truth was, he hurt her more by denying her the right to do what she wanted to do—stand by his side.
He could see that now given he would glue himself to her side if it meant she’d stop pushing him away.
“Just let me help ya, Love.”
“I hate feeling like people are burdened by me.”
He pulled back, and held her by the shoulders to look in her eyes. “Am I? Do I look like you’re a burden to me?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, looking away.
“Look at me, Steph,” he barked.
She obeyed.
“Do I look like I’m stressed, sleep deprived, underfed?”
“No.”
“Do I make excuses not to see you?”
“No.”