Vote Then Read: Volume III

by Aleatha Romig

  I toed off one boot and then the other while he did the same.

  Face cradled between his hands, I gave up control and savored the way he made me feel small. Powerful but small. An intoxicating combination that only he could brew.

  Making quick work of my jeans, he shoved them and my underwear down my thighs until they puddled on the floor.

  He flinched when I wrapped my arms around his waist.

  “Are you okay?” I pulled back and scanned his chest. “Does something hurt?”

  “Get in the shower.” For not moving immediately, I was rewarded with a quick smack to my right ass cheek. “Now.”

  The heat and longing behind his green eyes pushed me back a step, a bolt of excitement and warmth settling between my thighs, building on the heat already there. The shower’s rocked floor massaged the sore soles of my feet, and the warm water soothed the tension of the night from my tight shoulders.

  At the opening of the glass door, a waft of cold air prickled my already warmed skin. Standing directly across the small enclosure, Brenton lazily perused up and down my naked body. Hand firmly wrapped around himself, he groaned and stepped to meet me under the hot spray.

  The water poured over his dark hair, cascading over his broad shoulders and defined chest. Unable to resist, I reached through the steady stream to skim my fingertips down his rippled abs and back up, sliding my hands over his shoulders and down his strong arms.

  “You leave tomorrow?” I asked, not much louder than the hiss and patter of the shower.

  “Yes, after the meeting with the attorneys. I'm due back on base at 0800 the next day, so I need to get there tomorrow night. The army doesn't do late.”

  Again I caressed up and down his arms, memorizing every muscle, every curve for future fantasies. “You feel good about the progress we've made with your 'episodes'?” I molded my naked body against his and hugged him tightly.

  “I think I have a lot of shit to still sift through, but you've given me the tools to work through it all. You were the key, and now with all these memories… I feel like I have a piece of me back.”

  A tear slipped down my cheek, disappearing in the streams of water flowing down my face. “Good. Glad I could help.”

  “You didn't just help, Beks.” With two fingers beneath my chin, he tilted my faced up to meet his searching gaze. “You saved me.”

  My chin trembled at the force required to hold back the tears that wanted to fall. Dropping my head, I pressed my forehead against his chest, my shoulders shaking with a silent sob.

  This was goodbye, our last time together, maybe ever.

  But he'd given a piece of me back.

  And I'd done the same for him.

  Even a little broken, I was more whole right then than in the past thirteen years.

  He did that, but I still had to protect me. Protect my heart knowing he could shred it beyond repair.

  “I love you, Brenton Graves,” I choked out. “I don't want to be without you, but I won't beg you to stay either.”

  25

  Brenton

  I loved it when she begged, but not in this case. She was right. Someone like her deserved a man who knew his place was at her side, giving her what she needed on a daily basis.

  Not me.

  Not with my addictions and fucked-up family.

  Someone better, less jaded, able to return the deep, soul-cleaning love she offered.

  That person was not me, but still, I couldn't let her go. Which made me a complete asshole since I was leaving. But I was Brenton Graves; it was who I was and what would be listed on my tombstone someday.

  Her dark hair slid through my fingers as I pushed it behind her ear.

  “I'm sorry I couldn't be the man you deserve,” I whispered. Not giving her a chance to respond, I pressed my lips to her neck and peppered kisses along her jaw until I reached her lips.

  Fingers tangled in her hair, I pulled her closer. Beks’s nails scratched up my back before wrapping around my neck and digging in.

  One long, muscular leg hitched around my hip and urged me harder against her with a heel to my ass. There was no holding back my groan of approval from passing through my lips to hers. Guiding her back against the stone wall, I grabbed each cheek and hauled her higher. Instantly the other leg wrapped around my hip, spreading her wide.

  “Condom,” I mumbled against her collarbone on my descent to her lush breasts.

  “Not on me,” she groaned.

  “I'll go—”

  “Don't you fucking dare. I'm good. You?”

  I retreated and stared at her, chest heaving from the restraint needed to not push into her that second, and from the twinges of pain radiating from bruises gained during my earlier altercation.

  “I'm good, but we don't—”

  “Now, Brenton. Now,” she pleaded, flexing her hips to push her warm center up and down my cock.

  “Fuck,” I gritted out before nipping at her hard nipple.

  “That's the idea.” Weaving her fingers into my hair, she pushed my face harder against her breast. Instead of giving in to her urging, I looked up until her attention was on me, cheeks flushed, eyes hooded. Damn, the woman was gorgeous.

  “This isn't fucking,” I said. Claiming both wrists in one hand, I pinned them against the stone wall above her head. Each inch I slid into her tightness was torture and fucking incredible. The water washed away the sweat beading along my forehead and temples. “This is me showing you what I can’t say.”

  Brushing my lips against hers, I held her gaze as I pushed in all the way. Tears welled in her lower lids before spilling over the edges and streaming down her cheeks. First the left, then the right, I kissed away each tear. Each drop of salt water against my lips was like pouring it on an open wound. My heart ached to tell her what she wanted, needed to hear. The truth my heart hurt to say.

  Taking our time, we moved slow, savoring this last time together. When she squeezed me, finding her release, I devoured her scream, loving the feel of her entire body convulsing as I shuddered into her.

  Keeping her legs wrapped around my hips, me still inside her, I pressed my forehead against hers as I calmed my erratic breath.

  “Goodbye, Brenton,” she whispered.

  “Stay with me,” I said, nearly pleading. “One more night. Stay with me. Please.”

  “Yes.”

  Tucking my head between her neck and shoulder, I pulled her tight, hoping it would somehow chase away the loneliness and devastation that had begun to creep in.

  Outside, the unbearable West Texas heat had already warmed the window pane I leaned against. Adjusting my stance to use the wall instead, I held my attention out the window in hopes of a glimpse of Beks. The truck was out front, proving she was there, but where was the question. The thought of her being anywhere near that lousy-ass father of hers made anger pulse through my blood.

  I woke up alone that morning, stretching across the cool, soft sheets in search of her warm body but came up empty. At some point in the early morning hours, she snuck out with me passed out from pure exhaustion. Having her once in the shower wasn't enough. Neither was the second or third or fourth. Each time I needed one more touch, one more kiss as much as I needed the air to breathe.

  How in the hell would I survive three states over without her? Not knowing if she was okay, safe, happy? Damn, I wanted her happy and taken care of. By me.

  But what if I slipped? What if one day I decided to give in to the whiskey’s call? Those urges would always be there, so did that mean I was never allowed to be happy? If I did slip, Beks would be there for me, be the one to help me through the struggle of sobriety again.

  But was I ready for someone to see me? All of the broken and jagged pieces, not just the good side. If I dug down deep and searched for the truthful answer, it would be a yes. Yes, I was tired of doing this alone and believing I was alone. Having Beks at my side, being the additional strength I needed to continue to fight those demons, was what I wanted, what
I needed. Her in my life was a need, not a want.

  I needed that woman as much as she needed me.

  “Let's get this shit done with,” Dad said from the leather couch with a glare. He looked like shit. But I wasn't one to talk—so did I. The lack of sleep and swelling did nothing for my mood or appearance. “I have someone coming by to check out the place this afternoon.”

  Hell. Of course he did. Money-hungry, gold-digging bastard. Since he couldn't access more than his monthly allowance from the trust, he looked for money any way he could. And selling our family’s homestead was it.

  The older of the two attorneys stood and looked my direction with a smile. “Before we get started, Mr. Graves left something for his grandson.” In shock, I forced all my attention to the man. “He asked me to give it to him, let him read it in private, before we divide the estate.”

  I took the thick manila envelope from his outstretched hand. The paper crinkled in my grasp.

  “We'll be here when you're finished.”

  I nodded to the older man and turned for the door. Not knowing where to go, I meandered through the house and paused outside Pappy's office. One step inside, the rich smell of leather and Old Spice confirmed I was in the right spot to read Pappy's last words.

  The leather chair molded around my back and thighs with a sigh. Using my index finger, I ripped open the sealed envelope and pulled out the stack of papers within. On top was a handwritten note.

  Brenton,

  There was so much I wanted to say before the end, and I want you to know not coming to find you, settling this in person, is a regret I took to the grave. I'm a coward, and I'm sorry.

  I always knew what type of man my son was, what he was molding you and your brother into. All those summers and holidays, I paid your father for that time with you two. I'm not proud of it, but it was all I could do to try and save you boys. Each visit I noticed you two slipping further into your father’s lie, and still I did nothing more than keep paying for your time.

  And then one night it all changed.

  More lives than you can imagine were affected the night of your accident. You deserve to know what happened, what happened behind the scenes. You and that poor girl.

  Enclosed you'll find the legal documents we had written up hours after the accident. One is hers, and the other was meant for you. We thought separating you two was the best for both families.

  You had no idea the battle that went on behind closed doors.

  You didn't just hit an animal. You hit a calf that had gotten out from our fence due to her father's lack of maintenance of the property. Her father wanted to sue us for you driving high and hurting his daughter, plus with the news of the baby, threaten to toss in statutory rape. We had him for gross incompetence, and he had us. It was a stalemate.

  Instead of firing him, we agreed to keep him on, pay for her medical care, and give her a small settlement. In exchange, he didn't press charges for the wreck or the relationship between you two and agreed not to sue.

  We decided it was best for neither of you to know the truth. It would keep you apart if both of you thought the other had been the one to walk away. It was sheer luck that you didn't remember anything when you woke up in rehab. It could have been from the length of time we kept you sedated to help with the withrawl symptoms or head trama from the wreck. The doctors never gave us a solid reason why your memory from that night and other memories were erased. Then when you went into the military after getting out of rehab. I thought it confirmed the fate story I gave you that we'd made the right decision in splitting you two up. You were walking away from your father, and that girl was going to college with the money we provided.

  It wasn't until years later that I found the other document enclosed. It was given to me by my dear friend, who gave you this letter. He found it hidden in the papers from his father.

  You have to believe I had no idea what your father and hers did. I had nothing to do with the decision about the baby.

  But still, I'm guilty because I held on to the information for years without telling you, because we all agreed that night never to tell you two the truth. And I don't go back on my word. However, it's time you know it all, and she does too.

  Take care of her, Brenton. Give her whatever she needs to heal. She deserves that from us. And now that I'm gone, fire that rat bastard father of hers. After I'm gone, the agreement I signed dies with me.

  I'm very proud of the man you became, so it's hard to regret the decision to keep you two apart completely. You left, got out of our family’s dysfunction and charted your course. The family name means something again because of you, and I thank you for that.

  For many reasons, I'm breaking tradition and leaving my full estate and land to you. I know you'll take care of it and keep it in the family as our ancestors wanted. Our family fought and bled on this land, and I'm honored to pass it down to you, Brenton.

  Honored.

  Take care of it, but more importantly, take care of you. Stay as far away from the evil money brings as you can. Find something stable in your life you can hang on to like a lifeline to reality, or you'll drown. Find someone to remind you of what matters most.

  I love you.

  Your Pappy

  Fear clenched my gut at the words in the letter, but more so I was terrified of what I would learn next. With shaking fingers, I placed the note on the side table and began reading the first legal document.

  Pictures rattled against the hall wall from my storming pace toward the room I'd left Dad and the attorneys in hours ago. There had to be a mistake. My family was fucked-up, yes, but this… no way in hell two men could be so damn evil or self-centered to come up with the agreement written on the papers in my hand.

  Please, God, no.

  Nausea stirred my stomach, pushing up the coffee I'd sipped that morning, blissfully unaware of the day's future turn of events.

  The french doors banged against the wall. Face burning hot with rage, I scanned the room for my piece-of-shit dad, but came up empty.

  “Where. Is. He?” I gritted out between clenched teeth.

  “Gone,” said the older attorney, Pappy's friend. With a concerned look, he shuffled across the room and rested a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Shortly after you left, I explained what was in the documents you were reading and that the entire estate was going to you instead of him. Your grandfather wanted it that way.” A small smirk formed on his lips. “He didn't want you charged for your father's murder, which he knew would happen if that man was still around after you read the documents. I had security escort him off the property.” The hand on my shoulder squeezed, drawing my gaze to his. “I'm sorry for your loss. Don't be too hard on your grandfather. It ate him up not telling you or her what he found out, but it was done. I'll have some paperwork for you to fill out, but we can do that another time.”

  With a nod, the men filed out of the room, leaving me alone, still gripping the damning evidence in my right hand.

  I turned on the heels of my dress shoes and marched back out the door, knowing full well what I had to do next. Even if I'd rather cut off my dick than shatter her beautiful, loving soul with the truth.

  26

  Rebeka

  Movement out the window stole my attention from packing to the black SUV halfway down the long drive. It must’ve been the legal teams leaving.

  So, it was done.

  Time to step back into reality.

  Dread and sadness dropped my stomach, and I fell to the bed.

  I was right to leave him before he woke up that morning. Easier for sure. Last night, with our bodies wrapped around the other’s, we said our goodbyes. What else was there to say?

  Yet there I sat, wanting one more conversation, one more smile, one more kiss.

  Who was I kidding? I wanted more than just one more. I wanted it all. All of him. But that wasn't on the table. Nothing was.

  I cut my eyes toward the closed bedroom door as a loud commotion sounded in the livi
ng room. Bellowing male voices pushed me off the bed and to my feet. I was halfway down the hall when the crashing and shattering filled the house.

  My feet turned to lead, preventing me from entering the destroyed living room.

  “Brenton?” I called out, utter disbelief in my voice. “What are you doing?”

  Brenton turned from where he had Daddy pinned against the far wall, hand wrapped around his neck.

  “Doing what I should’ve done years ago.”

  Daddy punched at Brenton's face and arms, but Brenton's hold held firm.

  “Stop!” I screamed. “You can't kill him.”

  At my hand on his arm, he dropped Daddy, who fell to a heap on the floor.

  “Get off my property and never step foot on it again. The entire staff will have orders to shoot you on sight if you do.”

  I shot frantic glances between Daddy and Brenton.

  What? His property?

  “Where's your brother?” Brenton asked, still glaring down to where Daddy crawled across the floor.

  “Here,” Bradley's voice sounded from the hall I’d just come down.

  Not crawling fast enough, Brenton picked Daddy up by the back of his jeans and tossed him out of the house before slamming the door shut.

  “You.” He whirled around to face a stunned Bradley. “You're going to rehab. I'll set it up, but you go tomorrow. Then when you’ve finished, you're running this place. Congratulations on the promotion. I'll have a contract written up for you to review on the terms and pay. But first I need your help making sure your piece-of-shit father leaves the property before I change my mind on not committing murder today.”

  Not putting his back to the fuming Brenton, Bradley inched around the room to the front door. After fumbling with the knob, he darted out, banging the door shut behind him.

  “Brenton, what's going on? You got the land?” Nerves on high alert put a slight shake to my voice.

  “Yes. How attached to this place are you?”