Exposed: An Anthology

by Brooke Cumberland

  I went willingly into his arms, doing exactly what I wanted to do since the moment I saw him. I buried my face in his chest and let out a sob I had been holding back all day. It felt cathartic and supremely overdue, like a dam spilling over after years of neglect.

  “I still love him, Logan,” I confessed.

  “I know, baby. I know. It’s okay,” he soothed.

  His arms wrapped around my small frame, his large hand cradling my head as tears flowed. I don’t know how long he held me like this. It could have been minutes, hours, I don’t know, but he didn’t waver. He just held me, letting me have this day to grieve, to remember.

  Logan

  Holding Clare while she grieved for another man was probably the hardest thing I had ever done. While logically, I understood it, and could convince myself it was normal and healthy, and exactly the way it should be. The man, the Neanderthal male inside of me was screaming. He was banging his chest, growling, and yelling because I had just spent the last hour holding my woman, yes mine, as she grieved another man that she still loved. Insecurity threatened to take over as we drove back to the house in silence and I wondered if she could ever love me as much as she loved him. Would I ever measure up? As if sensing my unease, Clare’s hand covered mine, calming me. She had become my constant when everything else was a chaotic mess.

  I took her home and Leah left shortly after, leaving the three of us alone. I helped Clare throw something together for dinner and we put Maddie to bed early. She was asleep within minutes, the exhaustion from the day claiming her almost instantly. Swaying on her feet, Clare was minutes away from collapsing herself. I lifted her in my arms, savoring the feel of her body close to mine, and walked the short distance to her bedroom. It was the first time I’d been in there, carefully avoiding the room she’d shared with her husband.

  I gently laid her on the bed and pulled the covers over her tired body. Her eyes had already drifted shut, sleep finally taking hold of her. She looked beautiful like this, and I could lie here for hours watching her sleep. But I was not staying here, in this sacred place, without permission, especially today. I quietly made my way to the door when I heard her shift.

  “Logan, don’t leave me,” she murmured.

  I froze. “Are you sure?” I asked, turning to meet her eyes as she looked at me from across the room.

  “Yes. Please, just hold me.”

  “Always,” I vowed.

  I came to the opposite side of the bed, quietly undoing the buttons of my shirt as she watched through sleepy eyes. I kicked off my shoes, unbuckled my belt and dropped my jeans. Pulling the covers down, I slid in next to her, never breaking eye contact. Realizing she was still completely clothed, she lifted her hips to slide her jeans off and cuddled in next to me, wearing only a tight t-shirt and panties. God, she was gorgeous. Laying on my side, I wrapped my arms around, fitting her to my body. Her back to my front.

  Hating myself for it, but knowing I had no choice, I asked, “What was he like?” I had to know her, all of her, including this man who would forever own a piece of her heart.

  “He was the perfect balance of crazy and responsible,” she began. “He’d be the first one to suggest something stupid at a frat party, but he’d beat everyone out the door for early morning classes on Monday. He was the only person I knew who carried perfect grades and never studied,” she said, giving a quiet laugh.

  “He was an orphan. His parents were killed in a car accident when he was a teenager and he was lost without them. When I brought him home for the first time and my family took him in with open arms, he said he finally felt grounded again.”

  She paused and I kissed her shoulder encouraging her to continue. I think she needed this as much as I did.

  “He loved to surf. I used to call him my surfer boy. We always looked ridiculous standing next to each other. He was blonde, tan and muscular, and I was a skinny redhead who hated the beach because it made my skin burn. But we made it work, and I did eventually grow to love the beach.”

  We lay still for a long time and I listened to her breathe. Just when I started to wonder if she had fallen asleep, she rolled over in my arms, staring into me with those emerald green eyes.

  “I don’t compare you to him, Logan. I don’t keep a checklist trying to figure out which one of you will win ‘Clare’s Great Love’ contest. Ethan, as much as I will always love him,” her voice faltered, “is gone. And I can’t live my life married to a ghost. You are here with me now. And I want all of you.”

  Squeezing my eyes tight with emotions I wasn’t used to having, I kissed her forehead and thanked God I was the one who walked in that ER room.

  I awoke to the feeling of something, or someone rather, poking me in the head. My eyes fluttered open to find Maddie staring at me, a doll in hand and a smile plastered on her face as she said, “Can I sleep with you?”

  I was surprised she wasn’t screaming, “Why are you in bed with my Mommy!?” I shrugged, letting her climb in next to me, but instead, she climbed up and over me, causing me to grunt, as she kicked me in the side and kneed me in the ribs. How the hell was Clare sleeping through this? I looked over and she was peacefully sleeping, the epitome of calm, while I was getting punched. Maddie settled herself between the two of us, pulling my hand so it rested over her tiny body, like a miniature version of spooning. She snuggled deeply and sighed, obviously contented with her new sleeping arrangement as she reached over to drape a hand over her Mom’s side. We now created a three person spoon, well four, if you counted the doll. I drifted back to sleep with a grin on my face, and a dull ache in my ribs.

  I awoke again, this time with the sun shining through the windows, the smell of bacon and the sound of laughter drifting up from the stairs. I could listen to that sound for the rest of my life and never grow tired of it. Quickly rising to change back into my clothes from the day before, I rushed downstairs and found a pajama clad Maddie, wooden spoon in hand, bouncing up and down to...is that Usher? Clare was at the stove flipping pancakes and shaking her hips, which made Maddie burst into fits of laughter.

  I leaned my long frame against the side of the fridge waiting, wondering when they would notice the intruder, hoping I could catch Clare off guard.

  Clare danced over to one of the kitchen cabinets and retrieved a plate. Still dancing, she turned, gliding over to me, completely unsurprised by my presence.

  “Good morning,” she said smugly before placing a chaste kiss on my lips.

  “How?” I tried asking.

  “Mom.” She shrugged as if it was enough of an explanation. She laughed, realizing I still looked confused and elaborated. “I have eyes in the back of my head. I see everything,” she said, making it sound like it was one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

  “It’s true,” Maddie confirmed.

  I chuckled and began helping Clare dish up breakfast. I had never done this before. Had a family meal. It was the most normal thing I’d ever done.

  Taking a moment from her cooking duties, Clare pulled me away from the prying ears of Maddie “Thank you. For last night. For yesterday, for everything,” she stumbled on the words, obviously trying to find the right ones.

  “You don’t need to thank me, Clare. There is nowhere else I would rather have been.”

  I meant it. These two had managed to bring more joy to my life in the last month than I had in the entire thirty-two years of my life. Seeing both of them yesterday, lost, grieving and hurt...it will never happen again. They had a new protector, and it was me. I would keep them safe. No matter what.

  Chapter Eleven

  Clare

  “Just breathe,” I told myself for the hundredth time as I stood on Logan’s front porch staring at the brass knocker that adorned his door. While his words regarding the next time we were alone may have totally turned me on at the time, I was now a complete and total disaster. It had been a week since he slept in my bed and held me while I told him teary-eyed memories of Ethan. I don’t know how he knew, bu
t I needed that. I needed him to know Ethan, at least through my eyes. I didn’t think I would ever find someone to care for after Ethan died, and now that I had, I didn’t want Ethan’s memory to fade. I knew I couldn’t be in a relationship with two men, but I also couldn’t forget the man who taught me to love in the first place. After all, he gave me Maddie, the ultimate gift.

  When he met me at the cemetery, held me in his arms as I sobbed and let me grieve the man I had loved and lost, I knew. I may have already been there, or on my way, but seeing him so selflessly giving himself to me in my grief. That made it real. When I awoke the next morning, and found Maddie cuddled between us, his arm wrapped around her, in a protective embrace, I knew I wanted this man to be my future.

  The front door I had been staring at opened, startling me.

  “You gonna stand out here all day?” Logan asked, leaning against the door frame as he casually threw a kitchen towel over his shoulder.

  “Ah, no. Sorry. Scatterbrained.”

  “You mean nervous?” he said, motioning to the overnight bag that was slung over my shoulder.

  Blushing, I nodded. The overnight bag had been a huge cause of contention between Leah and me. She told me to pack it. I told her it was being presumptuous.

  “Presumptuous, Clare?” she said “He invited you over for dinner. After telling you the next time you were alone, he was going to ravage you senseless. I think you’re being a little dense. Pack a bag so you don’t have to brush your teeth with your index finger.”

  I gave in and did as I was told. But having never packed an overnight bag, I had no idea what to bring. When I dated Ethan, we were in college and in the same dorm. If I spent the night in his room, I just ran back to my own in the morning for a quick shower, and vice versa. I didn’t know what went in a “spending the night at my boyfriend’s house” bag. Did I pack pajamas? Or was that prudish? Did I bring shampoo, or should I just use his? I settled for the minimum. A change of clothes, a sexy nightie, a bit of makeup and a toothbrush.

  “No need for nervousness, Clare. You hold all the cards tonight,” Logan winked as his eyes traveled the length of my body, making me instantly flush.

  “Did I mention you look amazing? Downright fucking beautiful,” he declared.

  And every bit of nervousness I had evaporated as his pale blue eyes meet mine.

  He could have me. Here. Now. Any way he wanted.

  “Dinner, Clare. We have to eat first,” he breathed in my ear.

  “Right. Food,” I said, blushing.

  Chuckling, he led me in through the front door and I took a look around. I had only been here briefly to drop things off or to pick him up, so I had never actually been able to take a leisurely stroll through his house. You would expect a young bachelor like Logan to be somewhere downtown in a loft apartment, full of steel and high end furniture. Instead, Logan’s home was from the turn of the century and tucked away in an older neighborhood outside of Richmond, not too far from my house. I ran my hand over the hand carved banister that probably dated back to the nineteenth century as we made our way to the fully remodeled kitchen.

  “Logan, your house is stunning. It’s definitely not what I would have expected when I first met you,” I admitted.

  “And now?” he questioned, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of wine. He was dressed casually tonight, jeans, a black t-shirt that showed off his tight stomach and arms, no shoes. It was sexy.

  “I can see it. It suits you.” And it did. I could see his trademark style everywhere. From the acoustic guitars that lined the living room to the global artwork and photography of places he’d visited that decorated the walls. He had created a home, and he probably didn’t even realize it. He didn’t spend much time here, but somehow he had created a space for a family. It’s like he was waiting for it to be filled, hoping the empty space in his heart will one day be filled as well.

  “You’re cooking for me?” I asked as he moved to the stove and began stirring something in a pot.

  “I did ask you over for dinner. Did you think we were ordering pizza?”

  When my answer came in the form of a wry smile, he laughed, tossing a kitchen towel in my direction.

  “You did think I was going to order a pizza! I’ll have you know that I can cook, woman!” Grabbing the kitchen towel he tossed on the floor, I walked to the stove to take a peek in the pot.

  “Marinara? You’re making spaghetti?” I guessed.

  “Ah, no. I'm making pizza,” he answered quietly

  “You’re making pizza?” I said, doing everything I could to keep from laughing.

  “I said I could cook. I didn’t say what!”

  “All right,” I relented, heading over to the sink to wash my hands, “what can I do to help, Emeril?”

  Shaking his head, he pointed to the cutting board filled with mushrooms and various other toppings, “Start slicing the toppings. God, you’re a pain in my ass!” he laughed.

  We settled into a comfortable rhythm, while I sliced and he rolled out the dough. He spoke about his last shift at the hospital and the busy evening he had. I discussed how Maddie decided she needed to go to the beach. I had been looking up favorite destinations all week.

  “We should go together,” he suggested.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” he affirmed, “but not just any beach. We should take her someplace great. Pick someplace and we’ll go. Anywhere.”

  “Okay,” I answered, a little out of breath. Had we just planned our first trip? Butterflies fluttered in my belly, and I tried and tame them by changing the subject, even though all I wanted to do was jump up and down screaming “He’s Mine! All Mine!” To absolutely no one. Maybe I’d save that one for a more public place. On second thought. Maybe I should keep that little cheer to myself.

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked as I realized he was staring at me.

  “Huh? Oh. Um. You.”

  His sly grin shifted into a high beam smile, and wow. He was stunning when he smiled like that. I mean, he was always gorgeous, but when he smiled like he did right now, he was downright panty melting hot.

  “Good,” he stated.

  Once the pizzas were out of the oven we skipped the dining room table and instead opted for the floor in front of the fireplace in the living room. Logan gathered pillows, a few blankets and a tray, and we took our plates and wine and settled comfortably into our makeshift picnic.

  “You really like picnics, don’t you?” I asked him.

  “I really like picnics with you,” he corrected, before adding playfully, “They always go really well for me.” He took a bite of his pizza, and I did the same. I nearly moaned as the flavors hit my palette.

  “Oh yum. This is good, Logan.”

  “See, I told you I could cook,” he defended himself.

  “I’m never ordering pizza again. I’m just calling you from now on,” I said, diving into my second piece.

  “So that’s all I’m good for now? Pizza?” he mocked.

  “Oh no, you have many, many uses.” Wow, look at me. Seductress extraordinaire.

  After I finished off everything on my plate, I had the need for something sweet. “So, you made pizza for dinner. What are you making me for dessert?”

  “Dessert? Oh crap. I forgot!” he exclaimed.

  “You damn well better be joking, Logan Matthews,” I warned, folding my arms across my chest and pouting.

  “Do you really think I would risk certain loss of limb and not have dessert for you? I’m many things, but stupid is not one of them. I’ll be right back,” he announced, jumping up, tray in hand, headed for the kitchen.

  Moments later, he returned, with the tray again, but this time it was filled with ice cream, candy, fudge and whipped cream. I clapped my hands together like a five year old child.

  “Ice cream sundaes!”

  “It’s the best I could do. You don’t want anything I baked,” he confessed, as he rested the tray back down on the floor.

&n
bsp; “It’s great! Absolutely perfect!”

  I started to build my masterpiece, loading it up with goodies. He even bought coffee ice cream. He never missed a thing. Logan dug into the vanilla and we made our sundaes in a comfortable silence.

  “Why didn’t you ever go back to teaching?” Logan asked as he added the finishing touches to his sundae.

  “I honestly don’t know,” I admitted “I guess I had always planned on going back, but just never got around to it. When Ethan first got sick, the school was very supportive. If I needed a day off to be with him during chemo, they gave it to me without question. But then he got worse, and the days turned into weeks until I eventually had to take a leave of absence. I told them I’d return when he got better, but he never did.”

  I remembered looking in on Maddie as she slept, days after becoming a single mother, knowing my life would never be the same. Knowing I couldn’t possibly leave her alone, and feeling like I needed her more than anything in the world.

  “After his death, I could have gone back. They hadn’t filled my position, and I had the entire summer to grieve, but the thought of leaving Maddie killed me. I never thought I’d be a stay at home Mom, but I just kind of fell into it. Thanks to Ethan’s meticulous planning, we have more than enough to live on for quite a long time, and I knew I’d never get these years back. I have considered looking for a position next year though, after she starts kindergarten. I do miss teaching. Teenagers are an interesting breed.”

  “Oh, I bet,” he laughed. “I feel sorry for the boys in your classes,”

  “What? Why?” I asked, confused.

  “Having you as a teacher? They probably had to hide their mammoth size boners the entire class period. I know I would have.”

  “Oh my God! That’s so not true!” I gasped, grabbing a chocolate chip from the nearby bowl and chucking it at his head.