“Old habits?”
“I’m their big brother.” He said it as if that fact, in and of itself, explained him entirely. “I’m the oldest, by a good few years, so I’ve always been in charge of my brothers and sister.”
“You’re not that much older. You make it sound like you were an adult when they were born.”
He propped his other arm along the passenger door and looked out the side window. “I was changing Trevor’s diapers when I was five, teaching Dev how to dress, fix his own snacks and not wet the bed. Mom and Dad were busy. Doing other stuff. They couldn’t manage it all. Couldn’t do much, really, so I helped out with the usual stuff.”
What he did was more than the usual stuff. At five, he was a kid himself. Helping out occasionally at dinner or bedtime was one thing, but it sounded like Roark took on a lot more than that.
“I’d guessed you were always the leader in the family, but at least you have one.”
He shifted in his seat to face her.
She glanced over, and the intensity of his gaze made her face warm. A flash of heat streaked down her neck. She knew what he was going to ask before he even asked it, but she couldn’t stop it. All of her silent hoping and cursing couldn’t turn back the direction of this conversation.
“What about your family?” Roark asked.
Damn good question. She’d asked herself that about a million times. She tightened her hold on the wheel, staring at the road so hard it blurred. She’d told him before that she didn’t have any siblings. As for the rest . . .
“Turn to the left here and follow the road until it ends.”
“Sounds ominous.” She tried to smile and change the subject.
“Not as ominous as you not answering the question.”
“No family. It’s just me.” She could feel his grimace without looking over.
“I’m sorry. Did they pass?”
It’d be so much easier to accept if they had. Madison laughed, the sound icy even to her ears, but thoughts of her parents turned her cold. “Hardly. I’m sure they’re both alive wherever they are.”
He made a noise, contemplating what she’d said. “So were you orphaned or . . . put up for adoption?”
“I wish.” She pinched her lips together to keep her mouth from crumpling. “Look. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” Roark was silent as they bumped down the road. “But it sounds like maybe you should.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She spat out the words. “My dad took off and never looked back. My mom let me live with her until I was eighteen, and that was that. End of story.”
But ten years later, she still didn’t understand why no one wanted her, and it still hurt like hell.
“Let you live with her?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about them.” She bit off the words, right as she hit a nasty dip in the road at full speed, bouncing both of them around like basketballs.
“Okay, okay. We don’t have to talk about them.”
Madison clenched her teeth.
“But I’m here if you ever want to,” he said. His voice was so soothing, so understanding and accepting—and something in her snapped.
No. She was not going to spill her guts for him to soothe and accept her, because no matter how good it might feel to let him in, at the end of it all, he wouldn’t be around. People never stuck around.
Roark would always be here. Not with her if she wanted to talk about it two weeks from now. Not months from now, when she woke up from the same old nightmare of being lost and alone. She would always be alone and that had become just fine with her.
Rather than say anything, she put her foot down on the gas pedal. The road was half washed out, but Roark’s truck was a four-by-four and could take it.
They bounced down another half a mile, Roark muttering next to her until one particularly hard knock worked him up.
“Seriously. I’m not interested in wrecking today. The road ends up here, by the way. I know how you like fair warning before you get to a dead end. Son of a—”
Madison jerked the wheel, skidding the truck to a stop. She hopped out of the truck before Roark could fuss, and started tromping toward the lake, about a hundred yards off the road.
“What the hell was that about?” Roark shouted, his words following her through the grass and copse of trees.
“Hey. Hey!” He jogged to catch up to her. “Where are you going?”
She flung her arm out toward the lake. “This is our destination, isn’t it?”
“Yes. This is the secluded side of the lake.”
“Then that is where I’m going.”
His sigh was full of gruff frustration, and she didn’t blame him. She was a frustrating person to know. Ask any of the people who’d known and left her.
“What was all that stunt-car driving? Do you seriously think that’s going make me less curious about what’s going on with you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” he said, the sarcasm so thick, Wright could’ve used it for frosting.
A shrill noise rose from her throat and she couldn’t stop it. The Indian-summer sun beat down on them, making it feel like an August day in September. She hadn’t even reached the water when she started stripping off clothing.
“I . . .” Roark turned back to watch the trail of shirt and shoes and bra she left behind. “Okay.” He slung his duffel down once they got to a clearing at the water’s edge. An old campfire site sat surrounded by rocks, the ashes from a fire not too long ago.
Roark had stopped talking and tugged his T-shirt up over his head.
Madison shucked off her pants along with her panties. She tossed her earrings on top of the pile. She knew, if nothing else, nudity always worked if you wanted a man to shut up.
Hopping on one foot, Roark pulled off one shoe and then the other. She was way ahead of him—completely naked, arms crossed, tapping her foot as she waited. When he looked up for the third time as he pulled his pants off, she snapped, “Let’s go. This was your idea. Quit dawdling.”
“I’m not dawdling,” he snapped back. “I’m enjoying the view. You’re stunning, even when you’re mad as hell. Maybe more so, which is probably a messed-up thing to say, but I don’t care.”
“Thank you,” she huffed.
“You’re welcome.” Roark flung his pants and boxers down on the ground like he was trying to break a plate.
She turned her back on him and went toward the tiny sandy area that might constitute a five-foot beach.
“You can’t wade in,” Roark called out. “You’ll never make it. You’ve got to jump off the little fishing dock over here.”
“Wonderful.” She stomped over to the dock and reached the end of it before she realized she was alone. Roark was still in the clearing, messing around with his pack. “You’re dawdling again,” she yelled.
“Gimme a damn minute!” he shouted back, then continued to mutter something lost to the breeze.
She shivered as it blew, but she was so fired up it’d take a lot more than a little cool air to chill her out. Taking her anger out on Roark wasn’t fair, she knew that, but thinking of her shitty excuse for a family did this to her. Getting to know the wonderful people surrounding Roark, the tight family and thoughtful friends, didn’t help matters. Once again, she was small and helpless, worthless and resentful. Her past shouldn’t have this effect on her. Not anymore. For years she’d been angry, at them, at the world, but she was over that. She’d moved on and her past didn’t matter.
But being around Roark and his family meant seeing their affection, regardless of how they picked at one another. She’d witnessed Roark’s concern for them and it brought the bitterness of jealousy along with the pain of loss.
She had no one, and something about the way Roark asked, so careful and caring, wanting to know more about her, she wondered if she should tell him why.
No.
It didn’t matter. In less th
an two weeks she’d be gone. He didn’t need to know all about her. Sure as hell didn’t need to know about her family. No one did. She wasn’t that girl anymore and she never would be.
“Okay. Ready.” Roark stepped onto the dock, headed toward her. Even in her anger-fueled haze, she recognized a hell of a sight when she saw one.
Maybe because she was angry, and had pissed him off a good bit too, Roark stalked along the dock. His cock lay heavy between his thick thighs, his long strides showing off the rise and fall of every muscle, the broad shoulders blocking out the clearing behind him.
“We’ll go on the count of three. On your mark.” Roark grabbed her hand and held it.
She flinched, tempted to yank away. How could he bicker with her one second and want to hold her hand the next? This was when the yelling should begin, tempers becoming more venomous by the minute until everything got ugly. That’s how things worked where she came from.
But Roark’s hand was warm, his touch solid, and when he looked over at her, his gray-blue eyes weren’t stormy. They flashed, but not with anger.
Madison swallowed down the flash of panic and opened her mouth.
“One . . . ?” he offered helpfully.
She blinked, knowing she either had to jump in right now or end up scream-crying about her history. “One . . . two . . . three!”
The water hit her like a wall. A big, cold, wet wall. She broke the surface, cursing like a sailor, and realizing this was exactly what she needed to snap out of the past.
“Jeeeeeeeeeeeesus that’s cold!” Roark yelled beside her, treading water.
Once she was done cursing at the lake, she turned to Roark. “We’re both friggin’ nuts. I hope you know that.”
His head tossed back, he was laughing so hard he could barely stay afloat, let alone respond.
She fought not to laugh at how ridiculous he looked, almost drowning because he found this moment that funny. So she splashed him. “This was a stupid idea.”
“I swear, the wrath is rising off of you like steam. This idea was genius.”
Chapter 18
“Are you sure you want to start a splash war?” Roark wiped his eyes from the sheet of cold water she’d sent his way.
“No! You’re just so proud of yourself.” She splashed him again, and swam toward the dock.
He swam after her. “Are you cooled off now?”
“Yes. But as you might recall, I wasn’t fired up until after you planned this little adventure. Can we get out now?”
He smiled at the way her wet hair clung to her face, her mascara a big black smear under her eyes. This version of Madison, unkempt and a little imperfect, was captivating in its rarity.
“Yeah, we can get out now. You did your first polar plunge. Of sorts. High five.”
She eyed him suspiciously before slapping her hand against his. They both reached the dock’s ladder and held on.
“There was no ‘of sorts’ about it,” she insisted. “I legitimately plunged. Fair and square.” She splashed him one last time before climbing out.
He wiped his eyes and caught a great view before following her out. “Nah, a legitimate polar plunge is anytime from November to March.”
They both hurried down the dock to the blanket he’d laid out, the stack of towels and extra blankets sitting on it.
“November? Do people want to die of hypothermia?”
“There are places off the coast of Canada where they ocean plunge in the dead of winter. It’s all about warming up after. Hence . . .” He held his arm out toward the extra blankets and the little fire, already burning.
“You brought all this?” Madison wrapped one of the huge towels around her, using another to dry her hair.
“It sure wasn’t the skinny-dipping fairy. I had the stuff in my duffel.”
“That’s why you were dawdling.”
“Yes. While you were riding my ass, I was making sure our warm-up plan was in place.”
She fixed the towel over her hair, the other one around her, and grabbed a blanket. “And now I feel horrible for nagging you.”
“Eh. I’ll let you make it up to me.”
Madison shared a smile with him as she sat on the blanket. Roark scrubbed at his hair, one towel wrapped around his waist, the other covering his shoulders. He reached inside the olive duffel bag and pulled out a bundle of firewood, laying the pieces of log over the fire, along with more newspaper for kindling.
“I brought plenty of blankets. You can go ahead and get under them,” he said.
He poked at the fire with a stick until the logs were set up the way he wanted. Once the fire reached a good roar, he crawled onto the quilt and sat beside her, pulling Madison and the pile of blankets closer. She shivered a moment, huddling in, waiting for the fire and their body heat to warm them up.
“You think you’re pretty smooth with these moves, huh?” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Finally all toasty warm, yet naked under a bunch of blankets.”
“I don’t know if ‘smooth’ is a word that’d ever be used to describe me. Transparent in my ulterior motives, maybe?” He drew her closer, leaning his head on hers as they watched the fire grow.
He didn’t know how long they sat there like that, but it was long enough for the fire to lull him into a hypnotic calm, making him brave enough to broach the subject again. “Do you not talk about your parents because that makes life easier? Pretend the past doesn’t exist so then maybe it won’t?”
Her sigh was still heavy, but it held less edge than before. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“You didn’t let me off the hook about me and Dev. And I’m not really known for letting things go. Sorry.”
She shifted against him. “I’ll say this. I want to talk about my parents about as much as you want to talk about your relationship with Devlin and Trevor.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Worse.”
He nodded, rubbing his jaw against her hair but not pressing her for more.
Maybe she felt comfortable because of the campfire, or maybe she was secure being so physically close, surrounded by a cocoon of blankets. He didn’t know why, but for some reason, Madison finally opened up, and her story fell out.
“My father left right when I hit an age when I really needed him, and he never looked back. I think it finally got to be too much for him, on top of my mother being . . . well, she wasn’t maternal to me or faithful to him. But he was all I had and . . . he was gone.”
Roark nodded, afraid to speak and stop her from sharing.
“Or maybe he figured I didn’t need him anymore. Like I was old enough to get by and he could get the hell out of a bad marriage. I don’t know. And I don’t know why I’m even telling you that much.”
Roark stared at the lake in front of them, the glassy surface looking serene and perfect, but cold underneath.
“So you’ve basically taken care of yourself since he left?”
Madison nodded, her head shifting beneath his chin. She wasn’t going to do any more talking about herself. She didn’t come right out and say as much, but he knew. If he wanted to fill in the blanks, he’d better start guessing.
“Were you completely alone after he left?”
Her weight against him grew somehow heavier, but all the more welcome. “I wasn’t out on the streets or anything. Mom kept a roof over our heads, but . . . it wasn’t because of me. We moved around, depending on who she was dating at the time. I was just in the way, but I suppose I was lucky. None of them ever laid a hand on me. My mom or her boyfriends.”
Something inside him roared at what she said. Not just the truth of her words, but that she said them with such composure. He wanted to attack the injustice of what she’d gone through, fix the wrong that was her youth. But she held no more rage against her past, just wearied acceptance. It made him want to fight for her.
“I bet you got a job before you were even legal,” he said, trying to fill in the blanks, knowing she wou
ldn’t.
Madison hummed an affirmative.
The differences in their pasts, but the harsh similarities, curled a knot of pain in Roark’s chest. He thought of his own parents. They never abandoned him and his siblings, but for as much as they were around, they had completely checked out of providing any sort of nurturing or emotional support.
They made sure the Bradley kids had a roof over their heads and food in their mouths, but Honeywilde’s roof offered more stability than his parents’. They had nice rooms growing up, but if they wanted someone to hug them and tuck them in at night, they’d better do that for each other. If they wanted peace away from the battleground of their parents’ marriage, they knew to stay away from them.
Madison, as distant as she could be, had given him a window into her life. The least he could do was open the door to his. If it was too much for her, he had no doubt she’d let him know.
“My parents were around for our childhood, and stayed married until I was in college. Though . . . I don’t think they should’ve. To say their marriage was rocky . . .” He shook his head at the memories. “Gross understatement. I’m pretty sure they resented the hell out of each other by the end, but they stuck it out.”
Madison eased away from him, turning to look him in the eyes.
“I can’t say we were better off that they did. They were around, but miserable. And they weren’t there for us. If that makes sense. I was the one nagging everyone to do their homework, brush their teeth, go to bed at night. My parents stayed up working and arguing. Mostly arguing.”
“Is that why the inn didn’t do well for so long?” she asked.
He nodded, swallowing hard. “It started then, all the way up to when they split. My father finally gave up and left Honeywilde to us kids. Said it was what his dad would’ve wanted. Regardless, it was the wisest business move he ever made.”
She leaned against him once more.
His childhood was dysfunctional, his family life tumultuous, but he’d always had his brothers and sister. Even when things were at their worst, he knew he had Dev, Trevor, and Sophie to take care of. He had a purpose, people who needed him and loved him. Madison had been all alone. She had no one.
A Moment of Bliss Page 18