Tucker’s arms came around me from behind. He rested his chin on my shoulder, pressing our cheeks together. “How you holding up, sis?”
“I’m not,” I whispered, thankful for his strength, his solid body keeping me grounded.
“What now?” he asked, breath hitched.
“I don’t know. It’s out of my hands, isn’t it?”
“We’ll get through this. Whatever happens, I’m here for you.” Tucker stood and pulled me to my feet.
“Did you see the way Rocky was drawn to him? It’s like he already knows that’s his daddy.”
Calloused hands cupped my cheeks. “You are an amazing woman, Slade Mason.” He kissed my forehead. “Come on, I need to meet this man. Make sure he knows where I stand on this situation.”
I snuck a hand around his bicep. “Wait. Let Tango have some time to process.”
Rocky appeared in the doorway. “Come on, Mom! Tango said he’d make me a pancake stack. After we eat, we’re gonna play football.”
Tango stepped behind Rocky, whisk in hand. His gaze met Tucker’s, and he strode toward us, sucking the oxygen from my lungs, the blood from my veins.
Ignoring me completely, he offered a hand to my brother. “Thank you for bringing him home. I’m sorry I cut your vacation short, but I’m sure you understand.”
Tucker stood only a hair taller than Tango, and he was definitely wider. Not as fine-tuned, but beefier, for sure. “How about we get a drink sometime soon.”
“Sure.” Tango nodded, sizing him up. “I think that’d be good.” He turned and headed back toward the house.
I followed my brother to his Jeep.
“Call me later,” Tucker grunted as he pulled Rocky’s luggage out of his back seat. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate. I mean it, Slade. I know you hate asking for help, but you are not alone in this, you hear me?”
“Thank you, Tucker. For everything.” Our gazes locked, and I knew he understood what I meant by everything.
“I’d do it again. That little nephew of mine is worth every risk.” Pulling my trembling hand into his own, he whispered, “And he is my nephew, I don’t care if it’s by blood, or circumstances. I love both of you more than anything.” He kissed my cheek and pulled himself back into the driver’s seat.
I stood outside until his Jeep disappeared around the corner, and took a few deep breaths before mustering the courage to face whatever destiny had in store for my lying, baby-stealing ass.
When I entered the kitchen, Rocky stood on a chair next to Tango at the counter. His butt wiggled back and forth as he whisked pancake batter with gusto. The sight of them, side by side, father and son, twisted my insides. Guilt burrowed its nasty fingers through my ribcage and squeezed the blood from my chest.
What would the past six years have looked like if Tango had known about the pregnancy, if his parents hadn’t swept his indiscretion under the rug? Would he have come back to Whisper Springs? Would Addy be alive? The two of them would’ve made a life together, to raise their child. He would’ve married her, of that I was certain, because that was the kind of man he was. He probably would’ve insisted she follow him to college, because he wouldn’t have wanted me to watch him raise a family with another woman.
Would I have survived that future? Perhaps I would’ve ended up like my mother, dependent on a bottle of vodka to make life’s truths bearable, seeking reprieve from desolation and heartbreak through casual encounters with strange men night after night.
Cold, hard truth hit me like a frying pan to the face. I hadn’t saved Rocky’s life. He had saved mine.
“Mom? Why are you crying?” Tiny fingers wrapped around my pinky and tugged, snapping me back to the here and now.
“I just missed you like crazy, and I’m happy you’re home.” I scooped him off the floor and dotted his face with kisses. He giggled and squirmed, but clung tightly to my neck. He’d missed me, too.
“Mom?” he asked with his raspy laugh.
“Hmm?” I hummed into his neck.
“Have you danced today?”
The spatula Tango had been holding hit the floor with a ding. He gripped the edge of the counter, head dropping low between his shoulders.
“No, I haven’t danced today. I waited for you.”
“Let’s do it now!”
Tango turned his head to catch my gaze, eyes flooded with remorse and recognition. He had always made me dance when I was sad.
I set Rocky back on his feet. “Okay, but only if Tango dances with us.”
“Come on, Tango!” Rocky shouted. “I’ll show you how.” His small hand disappeared inside Tango’s long fingers, and he yanked him to the center of the kitchen. “When we don’t have music, I sing.”
Rocky belted out the tune to his favorite cartoon, threw his hands in the air and wiggled his hips.
A swarm of angry bees buzzed in my gut, and I focused on Rocky, terrified of the emotion I’d find in Tango’s eyes, afraid I’d shatter and never gather the pieces to put myself back together.
Even when Tango joined my son—his son—and hopped around my kitchen, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Instead, I reached across the counter, plugged my iPod into the speaker, and started the dance playlist Rocky and I had spent hours compiling.
Rocky giggled, his bare feet slapping against the linoleum. I joined in, minding my personal space, and let the music wash over me, fuel me, and chase away the desolation threatening to consume my spirit.
We danced. We laughed. I pretended, for Rocky, that the world was bright and beautiful, and life hadn’t just kicked my ass down another flight of stairs.
I couldn’t tear my gaze from the pair of legs descending the creaky stairs. The roll of her thighs, the tight curve of her calves. My balls ached with the thought of those lithe limbs locked around my waist. Temptress. Nice play, wearing those frayed cutoffs and that clingy little top. How many times over the years had I pretended it was Slade I rammed my cock into, instead of Luciano’s whores?
Slade paused at the last step and fiddled with the loose banister, picking at the chipped brown paint, avoiding eye contact. “I thought you were going back to your dad’s.”
I huffed. “Changed my mind.” Not a chance in hell I was leaving her alone. I didn’t trust her not to bolt. “We have shit to iron out.” This was not the kind of shit I could take out on the punching bag, or some unfortunate dick’s face. It spoke volumes that I actually wanted to talk to this girl standing before me, rather than fight or fuck my frustration away. Maybe I wasn’t so far gone, after all.
“Coffee first?” She hopped off the last step, the same way Rocky did every time he came down the stairs. I should’ve offered to help make the java, but the sight of her retreating to the kitchen stole my fucking breath.
The loose waves of her hair swayed across her back, soft and dreamy, much like a snake under the spell of a charmer. Perhaps I was the one being charmed—seduced by a deadly beauty who had no idea I’d spent the past six years fighting or fucking anyone who crossed my path, pathetic attempts to purge her venom from my system.
Fuck. I shook the crazy thoughts from my head. Exhaustion made me delirious.
I had spent the day with Rocky. Playing catch, wrestling, watching ridiculous cartoons, eating. Damn, that boy could shovel it in.
Slade had stayed in the background, keeping herself busy with menial chores, out of the way, never out of sight. Giving me precious time with my boy.
Holy shit. My boy. I’d made a little human. I fucking loved the hell out him already. Emotionally and physically, I was drained. Entertaining a child was hard work.
She’d done it alone for all these years.
“Here you go,” Slade offered a strained smile when she set my mug on the coffee table.
“Thanks.” I rubbed at my itching eyes.
She paced from the couch to the kitchen door, and back, the same trail she used to blaze on those nights her mother would come home too late. I was certain if she didn�
�t have a cup of coffee in her hands, she’d have her thumbnail half chewed off.
“Sit,” I ordered.
She ignored me.
“Slade.” I patted the cushion next to me. “Sit down.”
With a huff, she plopped her ass next to mine, set her cup down, and turned to face me. “You were amazing with him today.”
A cluster of words and emotions rolled through me, catching in my throat. Unable to speak, I nodded.
“I always knew you’d be a great father.”
Goddamn. Why the hell were my eyes burning?
“What are you going to do, Tango?” she asked with a quiver to her voice that made my guts twist.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to take him away? Are you going to press charges? I know you have every right. You do. I just need to know what you’re thinking. I need to prepare for what’s coming.”
“Press charges?” I set my cup down next to hers, to keep from throwing it across the room. “Jesus. I’m not a fucking monster.” Not always, anyway.
“I. I. Just—”
“Just what, Slade? Thought I’d rip him from the only home, the only family he’s ever known?”
“But last night, you said—”
“I was drunk, and pissed, and … and … fuck. I don’t know. This is so goddamned fucked up,” I hissed through gritted teeth, roughing my hands through my hair. “I have a son. And he’s perfect, and healthy, and alive, and I had nothing to do with that. I hate that I wasn’t here for him, but do you know what I hate most?” I asked, not waiting for an answer. “I hate how you didn’t trust me to do the right thing.”
“Tango.” She rested a hand on my thigh.
“No. Let me finish.” I pushed to me feet and crossed the room, fearful of my reaction to her touch. “Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t understand. I know I hurt you, but this? A child … this is epic. And I’m angry. So goddamned furious that I missed five years of his life. Missed his first breath, his first smile. But then I look at him and he’s alive and thriving and I’m so in love with him. I hate that you kept him from me. And I fucking hate how, right now, I want to make you hurt all over again.”
I turned around, annoyed by the tears pooling in her eyes. I couldn’t let anger control me. I slammed my palms against the wall and dropped my head between my arms.
Breathe, damn you. Breathe.
I stayed in that position, staring at the floor, unable to muster even a drop of empathy for the girl breaking behind me. “Jesus Christ, Slade, help me understand this because I can’t wrap my fucking head around it.”
She sniffed, and I heard her shift on the couch. “The anger you feel right now. The betrayal. The hurt. That’s what I felt back then, when I watched you fuck Addy.” She then let out a frustrated laugh. “When she told me she was pregnant? Amplify that pain by a million percent.”
Her voice drew closer, but I didn’t move. I pressed my fingers harder into the wall, vibrations of rage moving up my forearms.
“It wasn’t my problem, and I wasn’t going to help her, even when your mother, your flesh and blood, turned her away. Then Marta and Walter ordered her to get rid of the baby like he was trash, and that pissed me off. I hated Addy, but I wasn’t going to let them kill your baby, Tango, no matter how bitter I was.”
Her words sliced through me, swift and deadly. I sucked in a breath and watched a tear fall to the floor beneath me, followed by another.
“And by the time I convinced her to keep the baby and leave town with me, it took all of my energy to take care of her. The selfish bitch never even thanked me. Just pouted about getting fat. And it wasn’t my place to tell you. Don’t you see?” She sighed long and loud. “Then we rescued her from those monsters, and after that, I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone, because I needed to protect my dad and his family.”
I heard her pad down the hallway and open a door. I pushed off the wall and swiped at the moisture on my face. When she came back, she shoved a pillow and blanket at me. “I know you hate me. I don’t expect you to understand, because you weren’t here. You don’t know what it was like. Whatever happens, whatever you decide to do, I’m just happy Rocky has his father. He needs you.”
I wanted to be angry. Needed to shelter myself with rage, because rage was easier to handle than the other emotions boiling inside me. I slammed my shields around me, like I did during my fights, and met her gaze.
Slade’s eyes widened, and she took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. “The couch is yours,” she whispered. “For as long as you want to stay.”
I watched her ascend the stairs. I ached to follow her, throw her into bed and work out my frustrations the old fashioned way. Pissed as I was, I knew she didn’t deserve that kind of punishment.
Watching Tango sleep on my couch was the worst kind of punishment. A harsh reminder of everything I would never have.
Tight, fine-tuned muscles rolled under his olive skin as he stretched and shifted in his sleep. A small smile played across his lips before he buried his face in the pillow, hugging it tight. Oh, how I envied that pillow. Every cell in my body was drawn to the half-naked man on my sofa. I ached, craving his touch, the musk of his skin, his thick, strong lips. Dear God, those lips. Full and soft, like a warm, fresh-baked cinnamon bun.
I stole a few moments to admire his drool-worthy, pajama-clad ass before tiptoeing past and sneaking out the door. Tango had slept on my couch every night for the past week. He still hadn’t told me why he’d left his father’s house and crashed at mine. He hadn’t talked to me much at all. I didn’t push, and I sure as hell didn’t mind. Tango Rossi belonged in my home. Whispers of him lived in every nook and cranny.
Rocky was in heaven, having a man around. They’d become joined at the hip, and the only time Rocky seemed to need me was during his bedtime routine.
I didn’t know what to do with myself now that Tango knew the truth. I’d lived the lie, carried the burden of fear for so long, I hadn’t noticed the kinks and bends it had caused, or the stifling effect it had on my life.
For years I’d avoided certain areas of town, afraid of bumping into the Rossis or any of their friends. I’d been certain they would know what I’d done after taking one look at Rocky. Christ, anyone who knew Tango, who cared about him at all, would see him in Rocky’s eyes, his smile, his personality.
I hadn’t dated. I’d skipped the county fairs, the annual fireworks show, Christmas tree lighting in the town square, all the things I’d loved to do with Tango when we were kids. I’d bent, twisted, and compromised my life to adjust to the lie. Now that Tango had assured me over and over he wouldn’t take legal action, to protect my father and his wife, I felt like I’d woken from an extended hibernation, stiff and sore, and unsure how to rejoin the community. Other than the people who frequented the diner, I’d lost touch with the town I loved.
For now, I wanted to give Tango and Rocky time to get to know each other. I gave the boys their space, or at least told myself that was what I was doing. Truth was, I was avoiding his cold stares, and the way he’d move to the opposite side of the room when I was near.
Tango only spoke to me when absolutely necessary. He had a ton of harsh reality to process. He didn’t want me anymore. I couldn’t blame him, but sweet Jesus, I missed him.
All the attention he’d lavished on me before the baby-daddy-truth-reveal, was now being poured on my son.
Correction. His son.
He loved Rocky. Fiercely. The proof was in the way his eyes turned liquid every time they rested on the boy. Or in the way his chest puffed, or his smile spread so wide, I feared his face might crack.
As I mentally prepared for my first day back to work, I was surprised at how right it felt, leaving the boys sleeping at home. I locked the door behind me, trusting Rocky was in the best care.
I made it to the sidewalk when I heard the patter of feet drawing close. Warm arms enveloped me, and I struggled to turn.
I
pressed my cheek to Tango’s warm chest. His hair tickled my nose. It didn’t stop me from enjoying the strong, spicy musk. I’d no idea what cologne he wore, but it wasn’t overpowering, and it made me want to crawl inside him and snuggle up for a decade or two.
We held each other in a silent, intimate embrace for a long, perfect moment before I broke the connection. “What was that for?” I asked, surprised by the deep tone my voice had taken.
Tango stared down at me, his full lips slightly parted in a sexy smirk. He stepped back and lifted a hand to his tousled hair. His eyes seemed to lose focus before he shook his head and pounced. Wrapping his long fingers around the back of my head, he pulled me close and kissed me hard, dancing his tongue across my own.
My legs turned to rubber, collapsing under the heady power he poured into his kiss. Tango hooked an arm around my waist, holding me steady and too damn close. Oh God. I wanted to wrap my legs around him and never let go. Never spend another day away from his arms, his lips, his soul-warming gaze.
That was where I belonged. That was my home. That space between Tango Rossi and the rest of the world. It was my right.
I pulled away, breaking the sweet connection, held captive by the allure of his eyes.
“Have a good day,” he murmured, taking a step back and roughing a hand across his chest, or perhaps rubbing his heart.
Was he feeling the same ache I suffered?
My lips tingled. “I’ll see you tonight,” I managed to whisper as I turned, brushing a finger over the heat on my mouth. I didn’t look back. I forced my legs to move away, squeezing my eyes closed to keep the tears at bay.
I had to be strong. I couldn’t bow under the incessant weight of emotion, want, or need. I had to be brave, a fucking woman of steel. For Rocky, for Tango.
I hadn’t instigated the kiss, but sweet Lord, I would cherish it, wear it, and let it charge the rest of my day. It meant something. It meant everything. And despite the grief gnawing at my insides, it put a big, unflappable smile on my face and filled me with the courage to do what I had to do when I arrived at work.
Truck Stop Tango Page 17