Intense 2

by Hebert, Cambria

  My breath caught at his next words.

  “I—I’m trying to be a better person because anything is better than what I am. Your forgiveness would help.”

  He was trying for Emma.

  I wanted to scream again.

  Instead, I waved my hands in the direction of where the barn was. “One winter day last year, I fell in love with you inside that barn. And I thought you loved me too—but you didn’t. Why did you lie to me and make me love you? What purpose did it serve? Was it just to get your rocks off? Did you sit up at night and laugh about the stupid girl from Ratcliffe who fell for your bullshit? What was it?” My voice teetered on breaking, and I yanked it back.

  Silence from him as he got still, like a frozen winter god.

  But I needed this. Because we’d never had this conversation, real closure.

  “Don’t leave me hanging here, Cuba,” I said, shaking my head. “You’ve pretended like I didn’t exist for an entire year. Why? Just tell me the fucking truth.”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets, his face completely blank, and I knew he’d shut down. I let out a jarring laugh. “Silence with you is never golden. I get it. The truth is too painful.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his head bowed. “I’m afraid that whatever I say will hurt you, and I’m sick of breaking your heart. You don’t deserve that. You need something good and sweet. I let you down last year, and I’d do it again. You need someone who’s not me.”

  Not him? Would there ever be anyone else for me?

  He rubbed his face with his hands. “Cara, my parents, and now you. I’ve hurt those who care about me the most.”

  I glanced into the darkness, anywhere except at him.

  “You’ll never forgive me,” he stated, sadness flickering over his face.

  “I don’t know,” I said, and that was as much as I was willing to give right now. I pivoted from him, headed to my car.

  “Wait,” he called out after me. “Where are you going? You know you can’t drive home in this right?”

  “Getting a hotel room,” I lied. Ready to get away from him.

  “Look, I have ten empty bedrooms.” He fell into step beside me.

  “So?”

  “So? I’m inviting you to stay at my house. I don’t want you on these roads, even to drive to a hotel. When I checked out your car, I noticed your tires were bald. What if you slipped off in a ditch?”

  I hitched my bag up and kept on. “I have a cell phone. You drove here didn’t you? And why are you out this late?

  He clammed up. “No reason.”

  Oh, but there was, and it was probably Emma related.

  “You play a deep game, Cuba.”

  He grabbed my wrist, and we stopped in the snow. He drew me toward him, and without me even realizing it, I allowed it. Invisible wires connected us. Hadn’t they always? “You were never a game to me, do you understand. Not one time that we were together.”

  Little puffs of smoke came out of his mouth, and as we stood nose to nose, the winter air between us mingled and it felt a lot like how our first kiss began that night at Vespucci’s. His gaze landed on my lips, and I felt them part, remembering the weight of his, remembering how perfect we’d been. His head came down closer, closer to me, as if he was going to…

  No.

  I pulled my wrist out of his clasp and put more space between us.

  It was dangerous being near him.

  Because I still wanted him. I still...

  No, not going there. Because he’d hurt me, remember?

  We continued our trek to my car, until finally its white-covered hood came into view.

  Except there was one problem.

  Cuba cursed. “Someone slashed your tires, Dovey.”

  “Someday I’d tell her.”

  –Cuba

  WHO WOULD DO this to her car?

  “Spider?” I bit out as I checked out the flattened tires.

  “Never,” she said, worry on her face. “Maybe a prank or a mistake. I don’t know.”

  I stood. “Come home with me. I’ll call the garage and have them take care of this.”

  “I don’t really have a choice,” she grumbled, tossing her bag in the back of the Porsche as I opened the door for her.

  We drove to my neighborhood at a slow crawl. She’d gotten quiet, and when I glanced over at her, she was out, her head propped up by the window.

  I was glad I’d found her.

  Anything could have happened to her out in the cold on dark streets.

  And Spider? My mouth tightened at the thought of her and Spider kissing. But she’d called him by my name. And that thought completely messed with my head. One side of me wanted to take her home, tuck her in, and then head straight back over to Spider’s and beat the ever-loving-shit out of him. Number one for kicking her out, and number two for kissing her in the first place. Not that I had a claim on her. I know I didn’t.

  And hadn’t they probably done a lot more than that together?

  On the flip side of that, another part of me, one that I didn’t allow to come to the surface much, got a hot thrill at the thought of her saying my name when she kissed a guy.

  Yeah. Made me hard and pissed off all at the same time.

  Pulling up in the circular drive, I noticed the front lights were on, which meant Dad was home. I parked, and it took some balancing, but I swept Dovey up in my arms and carried her to the side door next to the kitchen. Dad flicked on the porch lights and met me there, dressed in his plaid robe, wearing his wire glasses and holding a book.

  Finally, I could tell him my news. Get it off my chest.

  Since I had no available hands, he opened the door for me, wearing a frown.

  “Who is she and where have you been?” he said in his steely voice, following me as I eased through the kitchen and down the hall.

  I huffed. Really? He hadn’t been home in five days and I got this?

  Dovey muttered something as I adjusted my grip. “This is Dovey, and I’m putting her upstairs. She’s exhausted. Can we do this in a minute? She’s kinda heavy.”

  He gave me a short nod and tapped his book against his leg. “Come back when you’re done.”

  I found the guest room nearest mine and lay her on top of the covers, remembering another time she’d stayed the night with me. She stirred around, her eyes blinking open.

  “Nice digs,” she mumbled sleepily and stretched. Her pants shimmed off as she started undressing, obviously too tired to care that I stood there.

  I backed up to the door, trying to be a gentleman but wanting to stay. “You need anything?”

  She waved me on, but still I stood there, my eyes lingering on her exposed flesh. Leave, I told myself, but I couldn’t yet. Her face was too soft, probably from being tired, and she looked beautiful.

  She turned to pull back the covers, and my heart thundered when I got a glimpse of her pink lace panties.

  I groaned. I knew exactly what she tasted like under those panties. Hot and wet and sweet as honey.

  Get the fuck out, I screamed in my head. But, of course, I didn’t.

  Is it bad I was tempted to slide under those covers with her? That I wanted to press my naked body against hers and forget our past. That I wanted to claim her with my mouth and wipe all memories of Spider’s kiss away. But I wanted so much more than just a measly kiss.

  Hadn’t it always been like that with her? Hadn’t she always consumed my dreams, my deepest desires?

  Because right now my body was aching for hers. I wanted to talk dirty to her and taste her core until she came, her hands fisted in my hair. I wanted to get behind her and teach her that my cock was the only one she’d ever need. Never Spider. Never that stupid ass Jacques.

  But I couldn’t do that.

  I’d nearly told her the truth about some things out in the snow. I’d been so tempted to let it out, to spill my guts to her. Good thing I hadn’t. I didn’t need complications right now.

  She sighed as she
burrowed into the covers, and I wanted to hear her voice once more.

  “Dovey?” I said, and she answered me with a soft snore.

  I sighed, wanting to stay with her, which was completely irrational.

  But, Dad was waiting for me, and I couldn’t put this off any longer.

  I went back downstairs, leaving her.

  He was sitting by the fire in his study, sipping on what looked like bourbon and coke.

  First thing he said was, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here on Monday.”

  Yeah. I sat on the brown leather couch near the fire. “You’re not around much anyway, so it’s not like I expected it. I see the sitting service more than I see you.” That wasn’t exactly true, but I missed him, and I was angry at his absences.

  Enough is enough.

  He rubbed his forehead, drawing attention to his tired face and the black circles under his eyes. Her death hadn’t been easy on either of us. He’d loved her.

  I scratched on the leather, making little lines. “Did you ever cheat on Mom?”

  He blanched. “Never.”

  “You slept in separate beds for as long as I can remember…” I drifted off. I don’t know why I’d even asked. “It must have been hard for you. Not having a real wife. Of course, if Cara had lived, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We’d be a happy family of four.”

  He sighed, exasperated. “Cara was not your fault.”

  Yeah, right. Same old conversation. “I’m your son. You’re supposed to say that.”

  He stood and paced, stopping to stare down at a photo of the four of us. “Yes, she’s gone, but she’d have ridden her bike out into the road if her mother had been here, too. Or me. She was strong-willed, just like you, and she loved to be outside. When you’re a parent, you’ll know you can’t keep your eyes on them constantly. Perhaps it’s on me because I never put that gate up at the end of the drive. I’d been talking about it for months, but I got busy…” His voice tapered off, and I startled at the flicker of guilt I caught. Is that what I sounded like?

  He continued. “Perhaps it was Mary-Carmen’s fault for buying the bicycle or leaving her with a kid that didn’t understand the responsibilities. But most of all, the man who drove that truck was speeding. That’s what you should remember.”

  “He hit her because I wasn’t there.” My hands balled up. “You don’t really blame yourself, do you?”

  Because I didn’t want my torment for him.

  He winced. “Some. All the what-ifs that went through my mind drove me crazy for a while, but then your mother got steadily worse and my energy went there.”

  Mother.

  I dug my fists into the side of my leg, my body tensing, waiting for the onslaught of pain that thought always brought. Annndd…it hit. I hunched down, hating myself. “I failed her too. I may as well have pulled that trigger myself.”

  “You did not pull that trigger.” He sat beside me, his weight feeling good, like I wasn’t alone. “And I was supposed to be here, not you.”

  “But I knew something was up. She was gearing up for another go around. I knew.”

  “She used a gun, Cuba. She didn’t want you to save her this time.”

  I scowled. “Just because you think she meant business, then it’s not on me?”

  “She had deep-rooted problems that had nothing to do with Cara. I knew it when I married her, but when you love someone, it doesn’t matter what kind of past or problems they bring. Love covers a lot.”

  He sighed. “Could you have watched over your mother your entire life? She would have eventually found a way whether you were here or not. Do you blame me for not getting rid of all the guns in the house before I left town?”

  I shook my head.

  Dad said, “She made her choices, but we have to live. I’m hurting too, and it’s killing me inside to see us like this.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. But I wasn’t.

  And where the hell have you been for a year was on the tip of my tongue.

  But here’s the thing, I’d always had a good relationship with my dad even after Cara.

  I’d help him with his basketball camp in the summers, and he’d try his best to be at every football game or rowing event I had. And he’d always been proud of me, especially for my desire to be a doctor. But now? I’d squandered an entire year away, and honestly, he hadn’t really noticed, or at least he hadn’t until this moment.

  As if he’d read my thoughts, he said, “I’ve been gone too much when I should have been here more. And, I’m sorry for it. Work and the team was my way of dealing with her death, I guess. But, I’ve made a decision. I’m retiring, selling the team. Maybe focus more on charity work. Maybe I can run a full time charity, do a yearlong camp for kids this time.” He seemed to hold his breath. “Would you like to help me?”

  That would be…good.

  I nodded, and he patted me on the back, the way men do when they’re emotional, and I cracked a little, leaning into him.

  He was all I had left.

  Then, I took a breath, preparing myself for a possible shit-storm. “I have something to tell you.”

  He arched a brow. “About the pretty girl upstairs?”

  Ah, no. And that kinda broke my heart a little. If Dovey had been pregnant, this would be a whole other story. I’d be down on my knees begging her to give me another chance. I’d move the universe for her, if she’d let me be part of her life.

  But she wasn’t the one who needed me right now.

  “Emma Easton is pregnant.”

  He shot up, eyes blazing. Nice dad gone.

  “What the hell? What have I told you about using protection? Dammit, we’ve had this conversation a million times.” He paced around the room, hands on his hips.

  “I found out today it’s not mine…although it could be, I’m not denying that. I haven’t been with her in several months. Basically, the baby is too young to be mine. Anyway, she’s hurting, and her parents are religious assholes.”

  He sat back down, a grim expression. He knew them well since we’d all spent time at the same country clubs and school events.

  “Her parents tossed her out tonight when we told them. So she’s staying with a cousin right now, trying to figure out what to do, afraid everyone will find out.” I sighed, held out my hands. “I told her I’d help. I’m all she has.”

  Which was sad, but I got it. Emma didn’t have any siblings, just the one relative on her mother’s side who lived in Dallas and hadn’t been exactly thrilled to see us show up at midnight tonight with suitcases and a sob story.

  But, she’d taken her in for the moment.

  He sighed. “Damn, son. I hope you know what you’re doing. But, whatever you need, I’ll here.” His eyes gentled. “I’m not leaving.”

  I nodded and we both sat there gazing into the shrinking fire. Yet as the room grew chillier, I felt warmer than I had in a long time.

  Yeah, just yeah.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Dad and I were making omelets, something we hadn’t done in a long time, when she sauntered into the kitchen, her hair a mess and a bemused expression on her face as she took us in.

  “Morning,” Dad boomed, wearing an old apron, beating the eggs and milk in a bowl. “You want breakfast?”

  She nodded shyly.

  Dad grinned. “I’m Archie, by the way.”

  “Dovey. Nice to meet you,” she said, looking around the kitchen. “Coffee?”

  I poured her a cup, watching as she mixed in the cream and sugar and took a big gulp. She moaned. “I’m going to need about ten more of these, just so you know. That was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a week.”

  My body heated, taking pleasure in that remark.

  Dad poured the eggs on the griddle. “Whatcha want in your omlette?”

  “Whatever you got, toss it in,” she said with enthusiasm.

  Yeah, my girl likes to eat. Nope, not my girl, I reminded myself.

  After the food was on the table, we sat down and
dug in, and it felt bittersweet to have her in my house and at my table. I kept sneaking looks at her trying to catch her eyes and gauge her emotions, but she was closed off, her face a mask.

  Later, when Dad went up to shower, she insisted on loading the dishwasher, and I watched her, wanting to tell her about Emma. But, I’d made a promise to Emma, and I wanted to do right by her. She wanted to wait about telling people until she was ready to confront the two guys who might be the father.

  She needed time, she’d said.

  “Dad called the garage and got your car fixed last night. It’s parked out front,” I said as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel.

  She blinked, and I wondered if she was battling with that pride of hers. She surprised me though. “That was fast. And sweet. Will you tell him thank you for me? I don’t have the money to pay him now, but I will in a few months.”

  He wouldn’t take her money, but I nodded. “Even if he is my dad, I know he’s a good guy, and he likes helping people.” I paused. “How’s Sarah doing?”

  She immediately stiffened. “She’s fine, but I need to go home and check on things. And I’ll probably need to teach her ballet class this afternoon because I don’t think she’s up to it.”

  “It’s still early,” I added. “Why don’t you stay a while and relax—”

  “I can’t,” she said, her face distracted as she checked her messages on her phone.

  My insides twisted. I just…I just wanted more time with her.

  I found my balls and went with it.

  “Let’s hang out today,” I said. “We can go to the movies or go to Portia’s for a cupcake.” I paused, unsure. “I—I remember you like the lemon flavored ones. Especially the icing.” I distinctly remembered me licking it off her lips one night.

  Bleakness flickered in her eyes. Making me feel empty, too.

  I took a deep breath. “I remember everything we did, Dovey. Every date, every kiss, every whispered word,” I admitted, my voice low, filled with—need? Shit, I couldn’t tell anymore. I just knew I didn’t want her to walk out that door because I sensed something was wrong with her, and she wasn’t telling me.