This Is Love, Baby (War & Peace #2)

by K. Webster

  What kind of fucking pig did they let into my room?!

  The room spins and my world goes dark as I attempt to force the images out of my mind. But the vision is already permanently etched there. I can almost sense the toxic microbes from inside his mouth tainting the air around me and my lungs ache from the very idea of that shit finding its way in there. I can practically feel it crawling inside of me, contaminating every inch of my insides.

  I gag again and again.

  A commotion resounds in the room. Shouts and voices. I ignore it all as I try to calm my heart, which is clawing painfully in my chest to get away from the contaminated air I’ve breathed in. Just when I think I’m about to pass out, a cold blast enters my vein. At first, I assume it’s something horrible and toxic, but then it travels quickly and blissfully up my arm, leaving a numbing wake in its path. It can’t get to my brain fast enough.

  I beg for it.

  Crave it.

  Need for it to numb the madness.

  And it does. Soon, I’m attempting to blink my eyes open to tell them Baylee is my savior, not some monster.

  But I can’t open my eyes. I can’t tell them about her.

  “I’m cold.”

  Her brilliant blue eyes are staring at me. The tube is gone. All that exists is her. “I’ll keep you warm.”

  She rewards me with a breathtaking smile. The urge to kiss her is overwhelming. My arm snakes around her and I haul her to my chest. Our lips meet in an unrushed kiss. She tastes divine and I don’t ever want to disconnect from her.

  I thread my fingers through her hair and hold her in place while I taste every inch of her mouth. So perfect. So goddamned perfect.

  “I love you,” I murmur and then suck on her bottom lip. My cock lurches with excitement against her thigh.

  “I love you too, War,” she whispers and lets out a tiny moan that’s my undoing. “Now make love to me.”

  Pushing her to her back, I spread her thighs apart and push into her hot center.

  The pleasure is overwhelming and the world goes black.

  I fuck her into the nothingness of my mind, where she belongs. Where she can save me in a way only she knows how.

  “Stay with me here,” I beg as the blackness blinds me.

  “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you.”

  Black and black and black.

  And Baylee.

  I’M NUMB.

  I’ve stared at her tombstone for a solid hour, trying to understand how this all happened. How I lost my mother when I thought I was helping her this whole time. If she died that first week, why was my father taking the money War was sending? What was Dad doing with it when he should have been looking for me and why the hell is he in San Francisco?

  Brandon clears his throat from beside me, jerking me from the thoughts that are on a continuous reel in my head. “You want to grab a bite to eat? It’ll be dark soon.”

  My stomach grumbles but I ignore it. Instead, I stare at the grey granite.

  Lynn Marie Winston.

  Beloved Wife and Mother

  The angel wings engraved into the rock are gorgeous. I wonder if Dad paid for it with War’s money. Money I negotiated my body and my companionship for. Of course, once I got to know War and fell in love with him, it hardly seemed like a negotiation or prison sentence.

  It was my home.

  He was my home.

  But still. How could Dad accept War’s money so easily but not tell me my mother had died? The realization that he never once mentioned what happened to her kills me. I want to find him so I can demand answers to all the questions inside my head.

  The wind picks up and chills my flesh. My hoodie does nothing to warm the cold, emptiness in my bones. In my aching heart. In my fractured soul.

  I hug my purse to my side and think about the pregnancy test inside. I’ve been dying to learn the truth about whether or not I’m carrying War’s baby. I need to know one way or another for closure. I’d also like to get ahold of Land. I want my child to have a relationship with their father’s father.

  Brandon snakes an arm around me and hugs me to his side. I hadn’t realized I was shivering but his body warms me. Well, on the surface at least. He’d relaxed on the way here and was back to being the friendly, all-around good guy I was used to. It’s going to break his heart when this all blows over and I explain to him that I don’t love him—not like I love War. That we’re better as friends.

  The thought of telling him this—after all he’s done for me—nauseates me. But I won’t live a lie. My heart belongs to War, whether dead or alive. I can’t get past him. I will never get past him. And if this baby exists, I’ll pour all of my love for War into it. I’ll spend the rest of my life giving that baby everything it deserves.

  “Babe,” Brandon says and kisses my temple. I shudder at his affection, but hopefully he attributes it to me being cold. “We can come back tomorrow. And the day after. And every day after that if it makes you feel better. But I need to get some food in you before you blow away with the wind.”

  He tries to make light of the situation and it irritates me. I stiffen in his arms and clench my jaw so I don’t say anything hurtful. Truth is, I’m angry and upset and devastated. My mother is dead, War is dead, and my father is apparently missing. Meanwhile, Brandon is acting like he wants to slip back into old roles and play house.

  His hand slips to my throat and he uses his fingers to turn my jaw to face him. The gesture is firm but still gentle. Our eyes meet and I wonder if he can sense the fury emanating from mine. “Hey,” he says softly, and I relax a little. “I didn’t mean to upset you. This is a big clusterfuck and I’m trying to navigate it without a rule book. I’m sorry.”

  He lowers his lips to mine, and when I attempt to jerk away from him, his fingers bite just a little into my flesh, holding me still. The desperation in his eyes chases away the light, and for a moment, I gape at his sudden change. His lips are on mine a second later. Needy and overly eager. I wait just a fraction of a moment to see if the old spark returns.

  It doesn’t.

  It’s just lips and tongue.

  Wetness and cinnamon gum.

  Nothing about his kiss consumes me—not like War’s did. The only reason he’s been awarded this kiss in the first place is because his grip is strong and I can’t easily break away. When he moans into my mouth, I freeze. I don’t want to kiss him. I want him to give me some space. Sliding my fingers into his hair, I tug until his lips break from mine.

  “Brandon,” I murmur, my voice laced with annoyance.

  He ignores the sting of me pulling his hair and instead, steals another kiss. His weight topples me over into the cold earth and soon he’s grinding his erection against me. The man kisses me as if he’s starved for me—as if I’m the one person who can fill some of his emptiness.

  The entire action reminds me of Gabe and my heart speeds up. My palms find his chest, and I try to push him away but he’s so strong. When he grinds painfully against me again, I lose it and manage to jerk my mouth from his, turning my head sharply to the right. His mouth moves on to my neck and earlobe, hot breath tickling my flesh.

  “God, how I’ve missed you, babe. Missed us. This.” He emphasizes his point by nibbling on the skin.

  I see red about the same time I see a stick. It isn’t thick but it’ll do. With quick, forceful whaps I whip him on the back of the head until he rolls off and away from me. Scrambling to my knees, I point the stick at him accusingly.

  “What is wrong with you, Brandon?” I demand and toss the stick into the grass. “My mind is a mess and this certainly isn’t helping.”

  He has the sense to look ashamed. His darkened eyes return to the sparkly green I know and trust. Crimson heats the top of his cheeks as he runs his fingers through his messy hair. “Jesus, Baylee. I’m so sorry. I just missed you and—”

  “Thought you could make out with me on my mother’s grave?” I finish for him, my voice venom-filled as I stand up. My words woun
d him and I’m glad. I know he’s been through a lot, but so have I.

  He looks up toward the sky with a groan and then pins me with an icy glare before stalking off toward the truck. “And you don’t have to worry,” he calls out over his shoulder, “that’ll be the last time I try and comfort you again. But my feelings for you—my craving to touch you—can’t just be flipped off with the push of a button, unlike you.”

  Guilt washes over me as he leaves me. Maybe I was too harsh. This has to be difficult for him too. When I left, we were hot and heavy for one another. We had plans. A future all mapped out.

  But then I was sent to War.

  And everything changed.

  Nothing will ever go back to the way things used to be.

  By the time I reach the truck, he’s squatting down beside it. When I round the vehicle to inspect what he’s looking at, my heart sinks.

  “I dropped it. It’s dead now.”

  The phone is shattered and the screen is black. My brows furrow as suspicion trickles through me. I used to drop my phone all of the time and never once shattered it. Sure, I cracked it a time or two, but it never shattered. He had to have thrown it when he had his angry tantrum. I want to shout at him for being a hot-headed asshole or to demand why he’d destroy our only connection to the outside world. Instead, I lift my chin and wordlessly go back to the passenger side to climb in. Casting one more glance at my mother’s final resting place, I silently make a vow to her.

  I will find a way to be happy, Mom.

  A way to be safe.

  I will protect myself and nurture the love in my heart for War.

  You don’t have to worry about your little girl anymore. I’m all grown up.

  I won’t let anyone control my life but me.

  The drive back to the cabin is silent and it’s driving me crazy. My mind buzzes with all sorts of questions. Everything out of his mouth seems like a lie and I want to shake the truth from him.

  “Do your parents know you came to save me?” I ask and flick my gaze over to him.

  He shrugs and continues to stare ahead of him. “Nope. They don’t give a shit about anything except for school and baseball. Neither of them cared about what happened to you. That’s why I left. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”

  I frown and look out the window lost in my thoughts for a while. It surprises me that Brandon would move out. Where would he even go? Has he been working this entire time? I’m shocked that he would give up so much for me. When my stomach lets out a grumble, I turn back to regard him. His shoulders are rigid and tense while his hands grip the steering wheel. The muscle on his neck flexes every other second as he clenches his jaw. He’s clearly still angry about what happened at the cemetery.

  “I’m hungry,” I tell him. “We passed a diner earlier on the way to see Mom’s gravesite. Can we stop there and get some dinner on the way back?”

  He snaps his head over to me and his eyes are wild with anxiety, sending my heart galloping right out the window. “No. We’ll hit a drive-thru on the way back.”

  His head jerks back to the road and I glare at him. Whatever is going on inside his head is really starting to piss me off. “I don’t want to go to a drive-thru. I’m not necessarily eager to get back to the cabin. I need some more time away. Why are you in such a hurry to get back anyway?”

  He shrugs his shoulders, feigning indifference, but he’s too stiff to pull it off. His lies are so easy to read. “I’m tired. We’re not going to the diner. McDonald’s or Taco Bell?”

  “Brandon,” I snap, “what is wrong with you? I just told you I don’t want to go back right now. Why can’t you respect that? Don’t you even understand what kind of shit I’ve been through? That cabin is the last place I want to be right now. I want to go to the diner!” My voice is shrill and I’m seconds away from clobbering him for being an asshole.

  His hand swings my way, causing me to flinch, and he points his finger at me. “We’re not going to the goddamned diner, Baylee!” he hisses, his eyes wild with fury. “Now get over it.”

  I gape at him in shock.

  There’s no way in hell I’m getting over it.

  “Stop the truck,” I seethe and gather my purse in my lap.

  He cuts his eyes back over to me and panic flashes over his features. “What? Why?”

  “Stop the stupid truck!” I shriek. “I’m over it! I’m over how weird you’re acting and your constant lies. I can’t take it anymore! STOP THE TRUCK!”

  The tires screech as he slams on the brake and pulls the vehicle over to the shoulder. As soon as it stops, I climb out and begin storming toward town. I can hear his heavy footsteps crunching on the gravel behind me as he follows me.

  “Baylee, stop. Please,” he begs. The crack in his voice makes my heart ache but I ignore it and continue stomping away.

  “Baylee!” His voice is sharp and his fingers bite into my bicep as he physically stops me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Whirling around in his grip, I stand on my toes and glare at him. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” I demand in a high-pitched voice. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Tell me what’s going on, Brandon. I know you’re lying to me too, just like everyone else. So just stop it. Fucking stop it. You were the one person I had left to count on to give me the truth and you’re evading me at every turn. I can’t lose you as that person. I’m out of here. If you’re going to lie to my face, I’m fucking out of here.”

  The anger melts from his face as his chin quivers and pain seems to rip apart his features. He lets out a garbled sound and gathers me into his arms. “Baby,” he says in a hoarse whisper against my hair as he strokes my back. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to protect you from the authorities. They think you’re involved in his murder and I couldn’t let them take you away from me. Not again. I can’t lose you now after everything. You’re my girl and I love you. Things may not be the way they were before but I promise you we can fix this. I’m here until the very end for you, Baylee. Please tell me you can see this.”

  He’s still babbling and only one word sticks out.

  Murder.

  Murder.

  Murder.

  I mean, I knew he was dead, my War. But for some reason, I still held onto a shred of hope he’d somehow survived. Deep down in the dark depths of my heart, I wanted to believe he’d lived. Yet he hadn’t. My War was completely over.

  “Oh, God,” I sob and collapse in his arms.

  He kisses my hair over and over again as he tries to soothe me. I inhale his familiarity and let it bring comfort to me. I’m a shuddering mess and all I can do is clutch onto his T-shirt to keep from hitting the gravel.

  “Baylee,” he says in a thick voice, his own tears wetting my hair, “I swear to God I will love you and take care of you. Let me help you remember what we had. Remember our love.”

  Love.

  Love.

  Love.

  Another sob rips through me and he holds me tighter. The grief and stress from the past few days overwhelms me, rendering me weak. He seems to sense my breakdown because he slips an arm beneath me and picks me up. I curl up against his chest while he carries me back to the truck. Once he opens the door and sets me on the seat, his red, tearstained eyes are washing over me. His fingers find my chin and he lifts it so our eyes meet.

  “I’m sorry for keeping that from you,” he tells me, his brows bunching together. “I’ll take you to the diner. We’ll just be careful.” He reaches under the seat and pulls out his baseball cap. I watch his determined, handsome face as he places it on my head and tucks my hair inside of it. “There, now you’re a boy.”

  I try to force a smile but my lip ends up quivering it away.

  “Hey,” he says, his green eyes glittering with the playfulness I know, “let’s go get you a strawberry milkshake before you beat my ass with my baseball bat. You get mean when you’re hungry. Hunger is not a pretty look on you.”

  This time I do smile and it’s genuin
e because his own grin is so infectious. Just like old times.

  “I’m sorry for flipping out,” I murmur, my voice squeaking a bit as I swipe at my wet cheeks with the back of my hands. “I don’t mean to keep taking it out on you. Thank you for all you’re doing to help me through this.”

  He leans in and kisses me softly on the corner of my mouth. “We’re in this together, babe. Until the very end.”

  “Will that be all?” the waitress questions, her eyes lingering on Brandon. A familiar, yet ridiculous pang of jealousy, grates at my nerves at her blatant ogling of him.

  “No,” I clip out, making sure to keep my face hidden beneath the baseball cap, “I need to order a chicken finger special to-go.”

  She scribbles on her note pad and then scurries away. When I lift my eyes to Brandon, he’s frowning.

  We’d had a fairly quiet dinner until this point. He’d been looking over his shoulder every five seconds while I tried not to think about my mom’s death or my dad’s disappearance. And especially not what happened to War. Every time I did, my heart would ache and tears would well in my eyes. It was easier just to focus on my greasy fries and milk shake. To distance myself from the all-consuming pain.

  “What?”

  “Did you order that for,” he spits out the next part as if he’s disgusted, “him?”

  I lift my chin and nod. “I’m trying to draw information out of him. I know there’s more he’s not telling me about my dad. Maybe if I’m nice he’ll give it to me and then we can go find him.”

  He rolls his eyes and curses under his breath as if I’m just a stupid girl who knows nothing. I’m once again irritated by his moody behavior.

  “What?” I demand.

  Shrugging his shoulders, he stares off into the crowded restaurant. “It’s not going to work, babe. Gabe’s a liar. He’ll manipulate you into letting him go. Then, he’ll hurt you again,” his voice drops to a whisper. “We need to get rid of him.”

  I study his features. The clenching jaw. The way his nostrils flare with anger. How his narrowed eyes scrutinize me. I don’t know this man. The boy who hugged me earlier and cried into my hair when he thought I was leaving him, I know him. This guy though, the asshole, I can’t even begin to understand who he is and I certainly don’t like him a bit.