Unconditional: A Coming of Age Romance Novel (Always)

by Cherie M Hudson

  She sat beside me for a bit, silent. “Is that the only reason you’re so flustered? Did the paparazzi upset you? And did The Biceps really punch Raph in the mouth?”

  “The jaw,” I corrected from my place flat on the bed. “And I think…” Letting out a ragged sigh, I sat upright again and raked my hands through my hair. “I’m upset because I didn’t want people to know I had Parkinson’s and now it’s just out there, and…”

  “And?” Heather prompted when I didn’t finish the sentence.

  “And the way Raph looked at me when he found out, and the word he used…and Brendon beating him up and…”

  Heather did exactly what I didn’t expect her to do. She burst out laughing. “Oh God, Maci. Being your friend is like being on one big American TV show. I love it.”

  I swiped at my nose with the back of my hand and gave her a surly glare. “I’m glad my misery is entertaining for you.”

  Not in the least bit contrite, she laughed again. “Maci, in case you haven’t noticed, I have ADHD. I’m medicated up to the eyeballs most days, and on the days I’m not, I feel like I’m a hummingbird on crack. I know it’s not going to kill me, but it’s not exactly fun to live with. However, I’m not in the least bit embarrassed by it or ashamed of it. I know the people who really matter to me, my real friends, will like me, love me, regardless.”

  I shook my head. “I know what you’re trying to say, Heather. Honestly, I do, but Parkinson’s will kill me. Eventually.”

  “So you’re going to live in a what? State of duplicitous, untrusting denial until then?”

  I studied my knees, throat tight.

  “Look, I know we’ve only been friends for a fortnight,” Heather went on, her voice kind, “and it’s not really my place to say anything, but I’m going to anyway because I have zero filter and I like you a lot. Living a lie, even a lie of omission to protect yourself, is dumb. If you’re not going to be honest with people, how do you ever expect them to be honest with you?”

  Scrunching up my face, I balled my fists. My hands were shaking. Both of them. Badly. In fact, I could feel the ticks and tremors begin to take over my whole body. “You sound like Brendon.”

  “A very smart man,” Heather said. “Who would have thought it under all that yummy muscle? Speaking of Brendon, has he kissed you yet?”

  The unexpected question pulled me from my grumpy pout. I let out a wry snort, flicking Heather a sideways glance. “Today.”

  A wide grin stretched her lips. She wriggled, a puppy about to get a new chew toy. “And? Was it as hot and crazy and wild as I imagine?”

  The knock on my door saved me from answering.

  Both Heather and I swung our attention to the door. I don’t know what Heather’s stomach did at who was standing there, but mine dropped. And then knotted. And then burst into wild, maniacal butterflies.

  “So?” Raph arched a brow at us both from where he leaned against the doorjamb, his expression…ambiguous. “Was it?”

  My breath seized in my throat. Probably because my heart was doing its best to smash its way into it. “Was it what?”

  Raph’s jaw bunched. “Was Osmond’s kiss hot and crazy and…and whatever other adjective Heather used?”

  At my side, Heather took my hand. “How could it not be?” she replied.

  I didn’t correct her. Not because I wanted Raph to think otherwise. I was just too damn tongue-tied. And embarrassed.

  And angry.

  Raph’s dark eyes studied me. “How could it not be…” he echoed, the tone in his voice as unreadable as the expression on his face.

  I ran my gaze over that handsome face, seeking out an answer to the mystery of his state of mind. Instead, I found the split on his lip caused by Brendon’s fist mashing against it.

  For some reason, the sight filled my throat with a lump. I met his stare again.

  Numb disappointment rolled through me. Raph had looked at me in many different ways since our first meeting in the men’s restroom at the airport—with mirth, with enjoyment, with lust and confusion—but never had he looked at me with pity.

  Until this wonderful, fucked-up day.

  I turned my head away, not wanting to see it.

  “Has the fracas outside calmed down yet?” Heather asked, her fingers through mine warm. An anchor I really needed.

  Was she right? Was I lying to myself about my condition? Or was I doing the right thing? The safe thing?

  “Don’t know,” Raph answered. As always, the dark timbre of his voice with its distinct Australian accent made the junction of my thighs throb. Damn it.

  “I left Osmond and Horn having a discussion about the situation and the pap took off at the sound of a cop siren nearby.”

  “Someone called the cops?” Surprise filled Heather’s voice.

  I risked a glance at Raph. He was watching me, his expression and stare unreadable. Still, at least it wasn’t pity anymore, right? “No idea.”

  “Is Brendon okay?” I asked.

  Raph’s jaw bunched. “If you mean did Horn break him, the answer’s no. He’s still in one piece.” A wry grunt escaped him. “In fact, I think he may have broken Horn. Guess Osmond isn’t just glamour muscles after all.”

  Heather let out her own little snort. “You sound miffed, Raph. And jealous.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks, but despite the squirming unease trying to take a hold of me, I didn’t look away from Raph. I needed to see his reaction to her jibe.

  The muscle in his jaw clenched again. His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat. His chest rose and fell as he took a slow breath. And then, his gaze holding mine, he pushed himself from the doorjamb and walked into my room. “Mind giving me and the American girl here a moment alone, Heather?” he asked as he crossed to where we both sat on the bed.

  My heart smashed into my throat again.

  Heather’s hand in mine squeezed tighter. “You need me to stay?” she asked, her voice soft. Understanding shone in her eyes.

  Catching my bottom lip with my teeth, I shook my head. “I’m…I’m okay.”

  She studied me with a narrow-eyed inspection for a heartbeat and then let out a short sigh. “If only you really believed that, Maci,” she whispered.

  Before I could respond, she rose to her feet and left. Just like that. Closing the door behind her. Leaving me alone in my room with Raph.

  I flicked a glance at him. Shifted on the bed. Brushed my palms over my thighs. Dropping my stare to my legs, I wished I wasn’t wearing shorts.

  The end of my bed shifted as Raph sat beside me. My tummy—and other areas of my body—clenched at his close proximity. I didn’t move. Didn’t lift my stare from my lily-white thighs. My pulse pounded in my ears.

  “Sick wasn’t a wise choice of words, was it?”

  His low voice caressed my sanity. As did his statement.

  I shook my head, keeping my gaze locked on my thighs. Nerves gnawed on my insides like a pack of ravenous dogs. “No.”

  Silence stretched between us for a moment, heavy and tense. “I’m sorry,” Raph finally said. “I’m sorry about everything. I’ve been worried sick about you since we lost you. I didn’t have your mobile number and I couldn’t find Heather. And when I did she said you were in hospital and I freaked out and rang every bloody one in Sydney and when I finally found the one you were at, they informed me you were gone and they didn’t know where to. And that freaked me out even more.”

  I stared at my thighs. Inside, I was an emotional mess.

  “And then I saw you with Osmond and I got jealous. I acted like a complete dick when what I should have done the whole time was look after you. Look at you, Maci, you’re hurt.” He touched my forehead gently, tracing the tips of his fingers over the grazed bruise just above my eye. “You’re hurt and it’s my fault. You’ll never be able to forgive me, will you?”

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The nervous anticipation overwhelming me at the touch of his fingers on my forehead, the way he’d told me
he was jealous…those things and more stole my ability to speak.

  He let out a ragged sigh at my silence. “I feel like shit and I just want…I just…I was just…the whole situation… Fuck, why do I get so messed up around you?” The last bit was muttered, frustration clear in the question.

  I raised my head to give him a glare. “I don’t know. Maybe for the same reason you swing hot and cold with me.”

  He let out a sigh, raked his hands through his hair and turned to look at me. I could see tormented confusion in his eyes, like dark storm clouds on the distant horizon. Good. I was glad I wasn’t the only one feeling so wretched.

  “I’m not good with trusting people,” he confessed. “Or putting myself out there. Or being open with people.”

  “Wow.” I fixed him with a level look. “No kidding.”

  He grimaced, no doubt at my sarcasm. “It’s not an excuse and there’s no messed-up backstory of family tragedy to justify it. Mum and Dad are still together, they still function as great parents and I don’t think I’ve ever seen them fight.”

  “So what’s your excuse then?” I asked. Inside, I was still nervous and agitated. I think because I didn’t want Raph to give me a reason to not be angry with him. If I was angry with him, I didn’t have to deal with the consequences of not being angry with him. God, does that makes any sense?

  At my side, he sighed again. “We Joneses don’t do emotional connections or sharing. We were raised to be self-sufficient and self-reliant. I think the need for a connection with anyone was starved out of us. Four individuals living under the one roof. That was us.

  “And because we’re fifth-generation cattle farmers living on a massive property out in the country, that one roof was pretty sizeable. And the boundaries of our land are huge. Dad would spend the day checking the herd in one paddock or the other. Mum would spend it in the house office, door closed. And my sister and I would spend it at school, followed by working at whatever jobs had to be done when we got home, usually on the back of a horse or out in whichever paddock Dad wasn’t. Which meant if you didn’t need to interact with a family member in a given period, you just didn’t. So while I never saw them fight, I never saw them being affectionate with each other either.”

  I studied him, his description of his detached family life sending a curling wisp of sympathy through me. Damn. What would that kind of upbringing be like? Being on the other side of the world from Mom during my stay in Australia was the longest I’d been without talking to her at least every day. And when my dad had been killed by the drunk driver… Man, that tore me apart. Still does.

  A cold shiver rippled up my back. I swallowed, casting Raph a sad frown. “It sounds lonely.”

  He shrugged. “It is what it is. Things exacerbated when my sister met Franz.”

  “Franz is the prince?”

  He nodded. “Our life turned into a fishbowl. Anything we did, had done or were going to do became fodder for the media and gossip mags, and all my walls—the ones ingrained in me thanks to my upbringing—went up. It didn’t help when old girlfriends came out and sold bullshit—sorry, I mean lies about me. And then the royal family discovered the stalker threats against me, assigned Horn as my bodyguard and…” He shrugged again. “And I turned into a bigger bastard than I normally am.”

  He stopped, let out a wry grunt and turned his attention to his hands where they hung loose between his thighs before raising his head to give me a small smile. “But when I’m with you…those walls…I don’t want them to be there.”

  I stared at him. Every fiber in my body tingled. Whatever my mind wanted to say, it couldn’t find the words. I wanted to be furious with him for saying something so wonderful. All I could do was stare at him.

  He stared back at me, a frown pulled at his forehead. “Can I ask you a question, American girl?”

  I nodded, my throat tight.

  “Are you—”

  Someone knocked on my door, interrupting him. He turned to it and, frown darkening to a scowl, muttered a low, “Jesus.”

  “Hey, Plenty.” Brendon’s relaxed voice played with the room’s silence and I let out a gasp, spinning on the bed to watch him push the door wider and walk through it. He strode into the room, flicking Raph a sideways glance as he crossed to where I sat. Without another look at Raph, he squatted in front of me, hands cupping my knees. “You okay?”

  I studied him. I could feel my eyebrows knitting. I opened my mouth but nothing came out. One attack of the guilts, coming right up.

  He grinned. “Shall I take that as a yes?”

  “You leave my bodyguard in one piece, Osmond?”

  I started at Raph’s question. There was no malice or anger in his voice. In fact, he sounded…amused. Go figure.

  Brendon slid his gaze to Raph and waved a hand in a so-so gesture. “His skull is harder than yours. And he swings a mean haymaker.”

  At the statement, I noticed the angry red mark on Brendon’s right cheek, just under his eye. I hissed. It looked painful.

  Raph grunted. “Glad he landed at least one. I think you damn near broke my jaw. I had to talk him out of pressing charges against you for public assault, by the way. You owe me one.”

  My head was spinning. Trust guys to be talking about their fight and the ensuing interjection by Mr. Horn in such a casual way.

  From his crouch at my feet, Brendon smirked. “Thanks. Think I damn near broke my fist when I landed one on you.”

  I couldn’t take any more. This was all too…too…not normal. “Wait, wait, wait, wait.” I held up my hands, switching my gaze back and forth between them. “I’m sorry, but how can you be talking to each other like this now? After Brendon…”

  Brendon smoothed his hands over my knees again, his laugh relaxed. “Would you like me to finish what I started, Plenty? I’ll do it for you.”

  “Try it, Osmond,” Raph growled at my side. There was a chortle in his voice, but also a threat.

  I narrowed my eyes, studying them both. My chest clenched. They might be giving the appearance of relaxed humor, but it was a façade. A façade no doubt for my benefit.

  Pulling a breath, I shook my head and stood. Brendon’s hands slipped from my knees as I did so. He straightened to his feet, towering over me. So did Raph. And he dwarfed me as well.

  Short and shaky, that’s me. And stuck in the middle of two guys who seemed very capable and willing to beat on each other. Over me. Weird. And unsettling, I have to say. And…okay, slightly good for the ego.

  I looked up at them, a subtle tremor building deep in my body. “I think I need you both to leave now. It’s not that I’m not enjoying the testosterone oozing from your pores, but I need to be alone for a while.” I arched a brow at Brendon before swinging a direct gaze to Raph. “Parkinson’s disease and all.”

  Raph’s jaw bunched. His nostrils flared. He opened his mouth, shoulders stiffening, his stare locked on my face.

  “Okay, Plenty,” Brendon said with warm calm. “Jones and I will take off.” He stepped closer to me and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. My heart skipped a beat. Not because he was kissing me—we’d already established the whole Brendon-Maci thing wasn’t a thing—but because he was kissing me in front of Raph. Taunting him?

  I heard Raph suck in a breath.

  “C’mon, Jones.” Brendon slapped Raph on the back of his shoulder. “Let’s give the girl what she wants.”

  For a second, I thought Raph was going to argue. God, what would I do if he did? Call for help? Jump out of the way when he swung a punch at Brendon? Brendon had spilled my secret, after all. Truth be known, a part of me wanted to punch Brendon, even though I knew he’d done so out of worry.

  But then, with a level look at Brendon, and an intense gaze at me, Raph nodded his head once, turned and walked from my room.

  Brendon watched him leave before, with a surprised, “Huh,” he swung back to me. “Are you okay, Maci?” he asked.

  My lips twisted into a little grimace. “What do yo
u think?”

  He ducked his head and scratched at the back of his neck. “You’re pissed I told him about your condition.”

  “Told everyone. You shouted it.”

  “I was angry.”

  “I saw that.”

  He let out a soft laugh, raising his gaze back to me. “Sure you don’t want me to kiss you again? Just to be sure there’s nothing—”

  I rolled my eyes and gave his chest a shove. I knew the only reason he stumbled back a step was to humor me. “Get out of here, Osmond,” I ordered. “I need to sulk for a while and I am still angry at you.”

  He laughed, a second before he snared my wrist in a loose grip, tugged me to him and placed another kiss on the top of my head. We really had moved onto the whole brother-sister relationship, it seemed. “Call me if you need me. I’m sending Heather back in now. Don’t argue. Just deal with it.”

  And with that, he too pivoted on his heel and strode from the room. Far less stompy than Raph, I have to admit.

  Heather hurried through the door a few moments later. Dropping onto the edge of the bed beside me, she grinned. “Wow. That was tense.”

  I frowned. “What?”

  “Raph and The Biceps out there.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “In the hall?”

  She nodded. “Raph waited until The Biceps came out. They then did that caveman-chest-thumping thing at each other with their eyes before The Biceps told Raph he’s not good enough for you, and Raph told The Biceps to stick his opinion up his arse. Oh, by the way, according to Macca, The Biceps broke Raph’s bodyguard’s nose in the fight.”

  I blinked.

  Heather grinned again. “So, two guys fighting over you. How’s that feel? Oh, and you still have to tell me what it was like being kissed by The Biceps,” she said, eyes twinkling. “And are you going to do it again? Who kisses better? Who are you going to pick?” Grinning at me, she squirmed on the edge of the bed, the excited puppy once again. “Oh, do you think they’d agree to a ménage? Oh man, imagine both of them making love to—”