“You promised you'd always come back for me.”
The room’s temperature dropped several degrees with the shift in his demeanor. Gently he pulled my forehead to his lips for a chaste kiss and took the stuffed pony from my hands. The mattress creaked as he stood and walked out the bedroom door, closing it behind him with a soft click without looking back.
Hot tears welled, but I held them in. Too many tears had been cried over that man. No more. But now the tears spawned from a new, different emotion.
For a man who had anything and everything he could ever want, I felt sorry for him.
Like a zombie, I brushed my teeth, stripped out of my jeans, and slid into the unmade bed. It was only early afternoon, but the roller-coaster emotions of the morning, plus the wine, pulled me into a deep sleep the second my head hit the pillow.
9
Rebeka
A delicious scent crept into the bedroom and stirred me awake what felt like days later. A quick glimpse of the clock indicated it had only been a little over three hours since I lay down. Another waft of something yummy filtered through the room, urging me out of bed and toward the living room. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but he came bearing food, so that was a positive sign. I eased into the living room where he lay on the couch, focused on the ceiling.
“Pizza's still hot,” he said without looking over.
“Thanks, I'm starving.” Not bothering with a plate, I grabbed a piece, flipped the cardboard lid closed, and took a bite. “Oh my goodness. Best pizza ever.” After snagging a paper towel, I perched on a barstool and swiveled to watch him. It was only then that I realized he had on a shirt, which was crazy since I still wore the one he had on earlier, plus new shorts and tennis shoes. The man was decked out head to toe in Under Armour gear. “Did you go out?”
“Yep. I was hungry and decided to stop by Academy to get clothes that fit.” His eyes shifted from the ceiling to me. “I left a note in case you woke up while I was gone.”
“I would’ve gone with you.”
“No, I needed to think.” The deformed cushions of my old couch shifted and parted as he swung his legs over the side to sit up. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands between his spread thighs. “I remember. Everything.”
A piece of hot cheese sucked down my windpipe. “Everything?” I asked between coughing fits. “You need to be more specific,” I gasped.
“I stared at that damn horse.”
“Pony.”
He rolled his eyes and focused on his clasped hands. “I remember us. Remember our talks. And hell, Beks….” With a deep breath, he leaned back and closed his eyes. Our deep connection drew me from the stool to sit beside him. The muscles of his thigh bunched under the comforting hand I placed over it. “I remember what you told me about your dad.”
With my free hand, I tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear and focused on his shoulder. “We didn't have very different childhoods. Yours was worse by far though. I never knew how you did it. Kept going back. Every summer, it took longer and longer for the real Brenton to break free.”
“But I did.”
“For me you did,” I said with a smile.
“I need to know if remembering the past fixed me.”
I shook my head and leaned back against the couch, putting our heads side by side. That close, his body heat seeped over, warming my chilled skin. “You were never broken. Did you turn the air conditioning down?”
“Yes, it was fucking hot in here.”
“Dammit, Brenton, that shit is expensive.”
“I told you I don’t do uncomfortable if I can help it. I’ll pay for the damn bill.” He yanked me back to the couch when I tried to stand. “Sit down and piss me off.”
“You're a selfish bastard for walking away from me half naked earlier.”
Instead of pissing him off like I hoped, a smile pulled his lips up, popping that damn dimple. “Selfish bastard or gentleman. Could go either way.”
“Fucking tease is what you are.”
“Wow,” he breathed. “You don't hold back, do you?”
“Guess that’s another piece of me you haven't remembered yet. I'm pushy when I know what I want. I was the one who seduced you the first time we slept together. Before that I wasn't all innocent either, but that night I wanted more. You tried your best to hold back, you really did, but just like in the kitchen, I begged you. I wanted that connection between us.”
I laced my fingers together and stretched them high above my head, arching my chest into the air.
“Except earlier had nothing to do with connection. It had everything to do with me being horny since our mind-blowing kiss last night, which became unbearable after seeing your tats this morning.”
“Basically you were using me for my body.”
I smiled and rolled my head to look at him. “You have a problem with that, flyboy?”
He barked a loud laugh and met my amused gaze. “The fuck? That's what they say to air force pilots.”
My smile widened. “Oh well, I'm using it now. So, flyboy, you have a problem with me using your body?”
With a groan of frustration, he shoved off the couch and walked to the kitchen. “You want another slice?”
“Sure. Can you grab me a glass of tea too while you're in there? Oh, and another napkin. Mine is all greasy. Maybe I should use a plate.”
His narrowed eyes locked with mine. “I offered to get you one slice, not the whole damn kitchen.”
Even with his snarky comment, moments later he appeared from the kitchen, laid a plate on my lap with a large slice of pizza, a new napkin tucked on the side, and set a glass filled with my molasses tea on the side table. I allowed him to settle beside me before bringing up the question that had nagged at me since he’d deflected my earlier subtle one.
“Do you still want me to say something that will stress you out? Test this theory that remembering cured your head stuff?”
“Definitely. Piss me the fuck off. Which I know you can do.”
Eyes on the greasy half-eaten slice of pizza, I said, “I feel like it was way too easy for you to walk away earlier.” I picked a semi-warm pepperoni off the cheese and popped it in my open mouth. “And then when I woke up, I hoped you would be there beside me, ready to explain, but you weren't.”
“It had nothing to do with me not wanting to spend hours kissing your naked body, believe me. But….” Summoning the courage to glance up through my lashes, I found his eyes closed. “After I saw that stupid pony you'd held on to for so long… I don't know, something shifted. The thought of being your relief lay didn’t sit right. Not when we used to be so much more than that. And now I know. I know what we were. Who you are. I'll make up the past to you. Somehow I'll make up for lost time. I promise you that. What else? Tell me something terrible that I don't know. Tell me how we ended and why you hate me.”
Really didn't want to bring that up, but he needed to know. Maybe saying it out loud would help me heal too.
“The scars you saw on my stomach earlier were from you.”
A tremble started in his hands, which sent tea splashing down his wrist. Reaching across the couch, I grabbed the cup and set it on the carpet. His chest rose and fell at a rapid pace.
“Our last day together, we were in a car wreck. I won't tell you the circumstances or anything other than the basics right now. You need to remember the details surrounding that night on your own. My airbag burst, and the chemicals inside it attached to my tight shirt. Steam from the busted radiator or engine or something like that flooded the SUV. They said the heat caused a reaction with the chemicals.” Reaching down, I raised the T-shirt. His eyes flicked over my mangled stomach before focusing on the wall across from the couch. “I had third-degree burns over 60 percent of my stomach and a little on my arms, but those aren’t as noticeable anymore.”
Chewing on my lower lip, I watched his chest heave faster and faster. The rough couch cushions brushed along my bare thighs as I adjusted to reach for him.
I wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders and tried to pull him to me, but head in his hands, his posture remained stiff, unwilling to accept my comfort.
“You were knocked unconscious, or had just passed out—”
“Was I high? Did I cause the wreck?”
That was precisely why I didn't want him to push the topic too far. I didn't want to tell him, hurt him, but I had to. Maybe it would heal a piece of both of us. “Yes and no. If you hadn’t been high, then maybe you wouldn't have lost control. But who knows.”
“No wonder you resent me. I ruined your life. Hell, I almost took it.”
The cup I pulled from the floor trembled in my hand. He had no idea the extent of my ruin from that night and what followed. But talking about it with him and seeing how distraught he was over the realization that he hurt me, the hate and resentment faded a fraction. There was still one question I needed an answer to for me to move on completely.
“B,” I breathed. It was now or never. But he didn't respond. “B?” Instead of acknowledging me, his shoulders slumped forward and he crumbled to the side. “Brenton!”
The forgotten cup in my hand slipped to my lap, drenching me in tea. I raced to the kitchen, soaked a somewhat clean rag in cold water, and hurried back to the unconscious man on my couch.
Shit, he wasn’t kidding about the blacking out episodes. It happened so fast that I didn’t even know it was happening. How terrifying it must’ve been for him to have such little control over his own body.
“B,” I whispered as I maneuvered him onto the couch, putting his head on the cushions and dangling his legs over the armrest. “Damn, you're massive. Come on, Brenton, wake up and help me move your fine ass.” Still no response, but the rapid movement behind his closed lids sent a wave of relief, calming my tight nerves. “I don't blame you.” I dabbed the cool cloth along his forehead. “I don't know if I ever really did. Everyone convinced me that you were the bad guy in it all. But were you? All they saw was the aftermath, the ugly side of who we were together, not the good. Not the two kids who gradually fell in love.”
I took the faint moan that pushed past his soft, parted lips as a sign to keep going.
“What you remember me telling you about Daddy only got worse after the accident. The obvious disappointment and never living up to his standards when I did everything I could to make him proud. Getting that money and going to college saved me. I finished high school soon after the accident and bolted. I made friends who didn't know about my past, I dated, partied like every kid should when released from the clutches of their parents, but everywhere I went, you were there with me.”
The rag slipped from my hand and fell to the floor with a soft thump. I traced the edges of his lips with the tips of my fingers, savoring each warm breath that brushed against them. With each pass, I inched my own lips closer and closer, needing to feel their softness against mine.
“Did you do it, Brenton? Did you choose your money over me? Or am I a fool of a woman, hoping for thirteen years that it was some misunderstanding, that someone talked you into it? I know you loved me and wouldn't have left us like that.” I was so close that his breath warmed my cheek. My hands slid to hold his jaw, my lips hovering over his.
“I might hate you, Brenton,” I whispered with my eyes closed, “but I love you more. I never stopped loving you, and maybe it's time I did. Then we can both move forward. I can move on.”
Saying the words out loud sent a pang of heartache to clench my sad heart, but something else settled too. As difficult as it was, I pulled away from his paled face and picked up the cloth from the floor.
Minutes later, his green eyes fluttered open and fixed on me.
“I forgive you,” I said with a teary smile. “For everything that happened. I'm sorry I held on to it for as long as I did, but I'm not anymore. I'm finally free from the constant anger and grief. Now that you remember, hopefully you can let go too.”
He cupped my cheek and pulled my face to his chest. Tears spilled down my cheeks, leaving damp drops along his T-shirt. Needing to be closer, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and squeezed until little air could fill my lungs.
Closure.
After thirteen years, I finally had it.
But which was worse: resenting him, or the loneliness that crept into the empty cavern in my heart left by the fading anger?
How in the hell would I explain the brand-new fantastic truck when we got back?
Daddy and Bradley would put me through rounds of interrogation the moment we pulled up. Who knew what they would say.
Not that I cared, of course. I was a grown woman, dammit.
Shit. And there was the issue of how to pull up in the new truck and get Brenton out unnoticed. He hadn't said a word since we left the apartment over half an hour ago. Who knew what was going on in that mind of his. Our earlier talk obviously gave him a lot to think over.
I flipped the blinker on to turn down our county road. Each tick of the signal in the silent cab increased my already rapid heart rate.
“I should just let him out here,” I mumbled to myself. “Or give him the truck and I can walk.” Nervous energy had me giggling at the thought. “I could die before I got there from heat exhaustion, but hey, it would solve my problem—”
“I'm sitting right here you know. Listening.”
I slowed the truck to a stop and watched out the window as the dust from the road floated ahead of us in a big brown cloud. “I know, but this is my problem, not yours.”
“What's the issue? Your dad? Brother?”
“Everyone,” I said, still staring out the side window, pondering my options.
“I don't get it. Explain.”
With a deep breath in, I shifted the truck into Park and swiveled in the brown leather seat to face him. “After the wreck, you had me sign something saying I wouldn't talk to you again, wouldn't seek you out, wouldn't sue the family. In return, you paid for my medical bills and a lump sum of $150,000.”
“That's it?” He huffed a laugh and leaned against the door. “What a fucking cheap ass. I nearly kill you and offer up a hundred grand. No wonder you hate me.”
“Yeah, completely about the money, jackass. Anyway, if I break the agreement, if people see us, then I'm scared I'll be forced to pay it back. And I can't.” Reaching up, I tucked my unruly hair behind each ear. “I used it for school, all of it. Books, housing, classes, expenses. It ran out before I finished veterinary school, so I have a ton of student loans I'm still paying back. No way could I afford to pay that money back if I had to—”
“Fine.”
“What?”
“Consider part of our new agreement that you’ll help me, not caring who sees, and if it becomes an issue due to that old agreement, I'll pay what you owe.”
“You already gave me the truck, which was too much anyway—”
“Why are you fighting me on this?” Brenton leaned forward to rest his elbow on the center console. “It's just money.”
“Because I work for what I have. It's not much, but what I have is mine. Sometimes I feel… indebted to your family because of the money I took. It felt dirty.”
Instead of responding, he leaned back in the seat, felt around the pocket of his shorts, and pulled out his phone. After pressing a few numbers, he held it to his left ear.
I opened my mouth to ask who he was calling but was hushed by a pointed look and a shake of his head.
“Landon. Graves. I need you to look into something for me. Thirteen years ago, I supposedly had the firm write up an agreement to keep a Rebeka Harding away from me. Locate it and email it to me. I want scans of the original documents, Landon. Make it happen.”
The phone clattered into the cup holder between us. Mouth still gaping, I looked from the phone back to him.
“Now that's taken care of. I'll get to the bottom of it, but don't worry about the money or legal piece.”
A weight I hadn't realized I'd been carrying around lifted. Gone. What felt like a g
reat debt to his family washed away by a few words from Brenton.
Locked on those gorgeous, sparkling green eyes, I said, “But what if you remember why you created it in the first place?”
“Anything else I should know about that night?”
I forced my eyes not to show my deception and kept my breathing even. “No.”
“Then we're good.”
Unease at my lie roiled my stomach, making nausea bubble up my throat. It didn't matter. He wouldn't remember why we were in the car and where we were going. Right?
“Beks,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “What else? Any other reason why you don't want people to see us together?”
My shoulders rose and fell in an exaggerated shrug as I concentrated on a seam along the leather seat.
“Good, because I'm holding you to helping me the next few days, and I don't give a fuck who sees us.”
“Brenton—”
“And another thing. I accept what you said back in the apartment about you letting go of the anger and resentment. Fine, do what you need to do, but you're not moving on from me.”
The confidence in his tone, the arrogance, willed my narrowed eyes up to meet his. “Is that so.”
“You can let go of the Brenton you fell in love with years ago. I'll allow that.”
“You'll allow it,” I said through clenched teeth. “Who in the hell do you think you are?”
“The man who won't fuck up the only good thing in his life again. Once we get back, I'll change, then meet you in the barn. You're taking me on a personal reacquainting tour around the ranch this afternoon.”
“Bastard. You're not even going to ask?”
An arrogant, cocky smile pulled at his full lips. Leaning back in his seat, he rubbed both hands down the soft leather. “Man, this is a nice truck, isn't it, Beks?” The pointed look he shot over left no room for questioning what he was alluding to.
I tightened my hands into fists, my nails biting into my palms. “Rotten bastard. You bought me this truck. I didn't ask for it.”
Vote Then Read: Volume III Page 228