Falling Hard

by Tina Wainscott

  Her soft smile lifted his heart. “My biggest issues have been trusting not only men but my judgment. And you know what? I totally trust you. And myself with you.”

  She leaned close again and kissed him, this time opening her mouth to his. Her fingers came around the back of his neck and tunneled up into his hair. He was only barely aware of them, engulfed by the sensation of her tongue sliding against his. The trust that entailed.

  A vehicle pulled into the lot, slashing them with bright headlights. Pax instinctively pushed her behind him, thinking of the car that had crashed through. But the car lurched to a stop, and Pax’s stomach dropped as he recognized it.

  Blake shoved the door open and stumbled out, his face shiny with sweat. He jabbed his finger in the air as he staggered toward them. “Traitor! You are a traitor to this family! You were kissing her! I saw you kissing that filthy wh—”

  Pax lunged at him.

  Chapter 10

  Gemma felt as though she’d taken the hit that Blake did when Pax tackled him. The men hit the ground with a thud and rolled as each tried to gain control.

  “Don’t talk to her like that after what you did,” Pax growled, punching Blake in the jaw.

  Harley snarled and darted in to nip at Blake, who barely noticed because he was screaming, “You’re screwing her, aren’t you? You’re screwing the girl who—”

  Gemma flew toward them. “Stop, both of you!”

  Blake’s fist careened at her, and she stumbled back to avoid it so hard that she fell on her butt.

  “Gemma, you all right?” Pax asked as he wrestled that ham-size fist from the vicinity of his face now.

  “I’m fine.” She got to her feet. “Blake Sullivan, I want you off my property or—”

  “Or what?” he spat, rolling away from Pax and kneeling in his attempt to gain his footing. “You’ll run to the police?” His voice pitched higher as he said, “Oh, Mister Policeman, Blake was on my property. Blake touched me!”

  “Blake raped me,” she said, keeping her voice modulated against every urge to scream. “And you know it.” She would not back down. As he struggled, wobbling in his inebriation, she used her foot to push him back. “Do not speak to me. Do not touch me. Crawl to your vehicle like the slimy slug you are and leave.” He stank of booze and sweat, bringing back unwanted memories.

  Blake lurched toward his truck and used it to stand. Pax stalked over, leaned into the cab, and snatched the keys from the ignition. “You’re not driving. You’ve done enough damage. I’m taking you home. Get in.” He looked at Gemma. “I’ll be back. I have to take the drunk son of a bitch home.”

  “Go.” She quickly went up the stairs and into the house, locking the door behind her.

  She watched as Pax struggled to get Blake into the passenger seat. Blake could barely keep his balance, which gave his smaller brother the advantage. Pax didn’t fit into his family, that much was evident. Physically or character-wise.

  It scared her that he had pledged his allegiance to her by admitting to his belief in Blake’s guilt. That he would give up his family for her terrified her. What if she screwed things up? Or he discovered that he didn’t like her as much as he thought he did? And he would, because she just wasn’t good at the relationship thing. Or the sex thing. Even if the part of her that had thrown herself at him thought she was. And maybe that part was that girl, the one who sent signals. Standing inside now, her back against the door, she slid down to the floor, overwhelmed by what she wanted and the cost it would demand.

  Pax bounded up the steps, Harley at his heels, and tried the door. “Gemma.” He pounded on the door. “You all right?”

  “Go, take your brother home. You don’t need to come back. I have people here. Or I will in a bit.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This thing between us, it’s just too hard. On you. On me. Your brother showing up at the very moment that we kissed was a sign that we’re headed for big trouble. It isn’t going to work. There’s too much at stake. And it’s probably just that we’re trying to recapture some teenage hormonal memory. Trying to fix a mistake. But we’re not those same people anymore.” And I’m not that girl.

  He leaned against the door, his palm flat against the glass. “You really think that’s what this is?”

  “Yes.” She had to force out the word. “And there’s the forbidden aspect. Come on, admit it: I am the absolutely worst person you could end up with. You’re the most complicated person I could want. Isn’t that part of the appeal?”

  There was silence for a moment, and that crazy part of her cringed. “I don’t think so, Gemma,” he said at last. “Not for me. Remember, we had a chemical reaction right off the bat.”

  Damn, why was he making this so hard? “Well, it’s complicated now. Go home. Give me time to—” Get her head straight? Be smart?

  “To what? Talk yourself out of us?”

  “Yes. If you take some time, you’ll see what a bad idea it is. Go home.” If he came inside, she’d give in. Fall back into his arms.

  “I can’t go home. My keys are inside.”

  She had to be firm. Hard, even. “Climb through a window. We have no vacancy.”

  Pax laughed in a frustrated way. “Cute. Real cute, Gemma.” After a few seconds, he said, “Fine, but I’m leaving Harley here. Can you let him in, at least?

  She peered out and saw the dog looking at her with a cocked head. “That’s low, Pax, using your dog like that. You forget that I’m not a dog person.”

  But Harley had grown on her. So had Pax, dammit.

  “I’m not using him. I don’t want you here alone, even for a little while. He’ll watch out for you.”

  She hauled herself to her feet. “Step back. All the way,” she added when he took only one step.

  “Really? You think I’m going to barge in?”

  “I don’t think you have to barge in. You can just stand there, and I’ll give in.”

  When he’d reached the bottom step, she cracked the door open. The dog sauntered inside, and she slammed the door closed again. Lessening the temptation to meet Pax’s eyes.

  “Gemma, you’re just shaken up. Think about this,” he said, then went back to Blake’s truck.

  “I am thinking about it,” she said, even though he was gone. She knelt down to pet Harley. “I have to admit, it is nice having company. Especially company that can’t talk.” She went into the kitchen and found a bottle of Merlot, then hunted down a wine opener, only to discover that the bottle had a screw top. Which was a good thing, because adrenaline was setting in now and her hands were shaking. She had confronted Blake face-to-face. Kicked him to the ground.

  She let out a howl, not sure if it was one of triumph or of tension release. Either way, it felt good. Calmed her a little. And certainly snagged Harley’s attention. “He probably won’t even remember it in the morning, when he’s hugging the porcelain throne,” she muttered. “But I’ll remember it. I’ll hold on to how good it felt.” She sighed, glancing down at Harley, who was hanging on her every word. Even if all he understood was Mwah wah wah. “Knowing the truth is good, but being the only one who believes can be pretty lonely. Especially when even a part of me doesn’t believe it completely.”

  Pax did believe her. But the price wasn’t one she could allow him to pay.

  She pulled out a wineglass and filled it with dark red liquid, then grabbed her camera bag from the guest room. She didn’t have the energy to go upstairs, so she dropped onto the couch in the den.

  Waiting for Pax? her inner voice taunted.

  No way. I’m having one glass and going up. Besides, he’s not coming back tonight.

  Only because you sent him away, the darn voice accused.

  She settled in, patting the seat beside her when the very polite Harley waited for an invitation. “Your daddy taught you manners, didn’t he?” she said, wrapping her free arm around him. Harley snuggled up against her, laying his chin on her thigh and giving her a big-eyed look of love.
“You understand why I have to push him away, don’t you?”

  He let out a soft whine. Yes or no? Yes. Of course he agreed, smart dog.

  “I’ll drink to that.” After taking a big swig of wine, she pulled out her camera and flipped through the pictures.

  Pax, grinning at her. Then all the ones of Trey and Gary, then Pax again. She studied his face. His smile. Ultimately, the big question was could she let him go?

  —

  “You can keep him,” Tracy said, blocking her front door with her large frame, arms crossed in front of her.

  “I don’t want him.” Pax glanced back at the truck, where Blake was trying to unlock the door. “Did something happen between you two?”

  “Yeah, I caught him sneaking booze. Again. He was already drunk by the time I got home from my makeover party. The kids were asleep in front of the television. I dumped out the rest of the bottle, and he called me some filthy names and stalked out of the house. He wouldn’t answer his cellphone or respond to my texts demanding that he come home. So I washed my hands of him. Take him to your parents.”

  She stepped back inside and slammed the door. Pax had to keep himself from uttering a not very nice word or five. He ran back to the truck just before his asshole brother was about to open the door and spill out.

  “Stay,” Pax ordered, locking the door again. “I’m taking you home.”

  Blake looked blearily at the house. “I am home.”

  “Not tonight, you aren’t.”

  Blake remained slouched and sullen as Pax drove out to the family homestead.

  Fifteen minutes later, Pax bounded up the stairs, knocked, and peered inside. “It’s Pax.” He followed the sound of the television to the back room, where his parents were in their easy chairs watching a game.

  “Pax?” his mother said, obviously having already heard him. She was sitting up, hands braced on the chair arms. “What’s wrong?”

  “Blake’s in the truck. Shit-faced. Dad, I need your help bringing him in.”

  His dad pushed up out of the chair with a scowl. “Why isn’t he at home with his lovely wife?”

  “She kicked him out for being drunk. He came out to the bed-and-breakfast and caused a ruckus.”

  “Well, I don’t have any problem with that.”

  Pax’s jaw twitched. “As you well know, it’s against the law to harass people. It doesn’t matter who they are.”

  His dad reached the passenger side of the truck before Pax could and yanked the door open. Blake fell out in a heap. At the sight of his daddy, he scrambled to his feet.

  “Get in the house,” the man said in a low voice that both Pax and Blake had heard and dreaded many a time.

  Pax wanted to race back to Gemma. The look on her face weighed on him like a truck parked on his chest. She’d just told him she had issues with trusting men and, more important, with trusting herself. Then she’d taken a huge step by kissing him. Damn, he should have locked Blake in his truck and forced his way into the inn.

  As soon as they got into the kitchen, where his mother had started brewing a pot of coffee, Blake leaned against the wall and jabbed his wobbly finger at Pax. “He’s sleeping with her.”

  “Who?” his dad asked.

  “I’m not sleeping with her,” Pax said through gritted teeth. It was none of their damned business what he was doing with her.

  “You were kissing her!”

  Rage tightened his dad’s face. “You were kissing the whore?”

  “Dammit, she’s not a whore.” Pax turned back to Blake. “She was a virgin before you—”

  “Zat what she told you?” Blake interrupted. “And you believed her? Idiot!” He started sliding down the wall to the floor. “Traitor,” he mumbled as his eyes closed.

  Pax looked at his father. “I’m sure you saw the rape-kit results. Was there blood in her underwear?”

  His closed expression answered the question. “That doesn’t prove—”

  “It either proves she was a virgin or that Blake had been rough with her.” Pax hated that Gemma had bled. And he hated his father for dismissing it.

  His father nudged Blake with his foot. “Get up. I’m taking you to your old room. If you fall down the stairs, I’m letting you go. You’re not taking me down with you.” Pax started to grab Blake’s other arm, but his father glared at him. “I got it.”

  Pax sat with his dad’s words as the older man hustled his son around the corner. He wasn’t going to let Blake take him down. Hadn’t he said the same thing to Pax when he showed up at the scene of Raleigh’s crash? His father hadn’t bailed him out to save his son’s ass; he was saving his own. And he still used that to force Pax to go in a direction he didn’t want to go.

  His mother leaned against the counter in front of the gurgling coffee pot, her arms a tight knot in front of her chest. “I can’t believe you kissed her.”

  “I believe her, Mama. I believe Gemma. Haven’t you ever doubted Blake’s story? Even just a tiny bit?”

  “Never.”

  But he saw it, the tiny flicker as she averted her gaze on the word. “I felt the same way, pushing any doubt into the corner because of family loyalty. The way Blake wouldn’t talk about that night. How hard he worked to make Gemma into a whore and himself into a victim. Hell, he even tried to drag me into it, badgering me to admit she’d flirted with me when she was dating him. Which she didn’t. But I can’t ignore it anymore. And you can’t, either.”

  “I’m not ignoring anything. Blake didn’t hurt that girl. He’s my son.”

  “Sons do stuff, Mama. For every murderer, every rapist and robber, there’s a mother. And for some, there’s a mother or father who simply can’t believe their child would do something so terrible.”

  “Not a mother like me. Not a family like us.”

  Pax sank into a chair at the table. “Yeah, sometimes they have a family like us.” Dysfunctional families grew the best kind of criminals, but his mother wouldn’t see their family as warped. “I think he forced himself on Gemma. He was drunk and he kept telling himself she was saying no to other questions when she was telling him no, period. She couldn’t fight him, and, hell, she’s tiny and he’s big. He easily overpowered her. If you saw her face when we came up on the place where the party was that night…if you’d heard the pain in her voice when she told me what happened, you would have believed her. If you’d seen her upset and shaking after she saw Blake at the hospital, you’d have believed her.”

  “I believe her,” a voice behind them said.

  They both jerked around to find Janey standing in the doorway in her favorite threadbare robe covered with romping cats.

  “Janey, darling, I’ve told you a thousand times, you mustn’t eavesdrop on adult conversations. It’s rude.”

  Pax stood as his mother ushered her out. He started to follow, but his father blocked the doorway. “You don’t get to talk to your sister anymore. But you do get to talk to me.”

  Pax faced his father’s angry glare. Fine, he’d talk to him. “It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to consider, Dad. But I believe Gemma.”

  “Why? Because she clamped her mouth over your dick?”

  Pax winced, even as his hands tightened into a fist. You can’t hit your father. He’s the sheriff. “She hasn’t touched my dick. I wanted to doubt Gemma. Wanted to hate her. But the scarring on her soul, the violation she went through, is real. And Blake, he’s an angry man with a domineering wife who’s a mirror of his domineering father. He needs to be in control, needs to be a man, as he told me. He takes out his anger over his impotence on other women. Gemma, probably his secretary, and God knows how many others. He needs to see that what he’s doing—what he’s done—is wrong. He has to stop.”

  “Know what your problem is? You’re jealous of him, always have been. You couldn’t be as good at football or as popular, so you resorted to being a rebel. And now you resent that he has a good career and a nice little family while you can’t handle the responsibi
lities of being a cop.”

  “You’re wrong, Dad. I don’t want to be like Blake. Never did. His kissing up to you never did buy your respect, either. He should have learned that from watching Mama all these years.”

  “Get out of here.”

  “And don’t think you’re going to be sneaking around seeing Janey,” his mother said, coming into the kitchen with an expression that made it clear she’d heard. She held up Janey’s phone, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “She’s been talking to some guy at this group home, and now she wants to move into it. I knew you giving her this phone was a bad idea. You with all your talk about independence, teaching her to drive, taking her out, all against my rules. Planting ideas in her head. You are officially banned from seeing Janey. Forever.”

  He swallowed his angry response. “Be honest, Mama. You’ve been using her to control me ever since I moved out. I’m good for her. She loves learning new things and being independent. I tried to tell you what a great driving student she is, and how she’ll be the most careful driver ever. How she glows when she accomplishes something. And how I glow, too. But I can’t let you dangle my time with her like a carrot anymore. Or use it to whip me into submission.”

  She opened her mouth to say more but glanced at her husband.

  Pax knew he was severing ties, so he had nothing to lose. Except your integrity, if you stay silent any longer. He turned to his father. “It did hurt that I could never live up to your ideals. I wasn’t good at the things you valued, and I didn’t take after you. I never wanted to be like Blake, but I did want your admiration and attention like he had. That changed when I was twelve. I was sulking, because you’d railed at me again for not living up to your expectations—this time by failing to make the football team. I was up in my tree house when you and Blake came out to practice in that obstacle course you set up for him.

  “You were really pushing him hard. I saw Blake getting beat down, shrinking before my eyes. You stomped off in disgust after calling him nasty names. Blake kept working, but I saw anger burning in his eyes. I was going to hop down and say something supportive, but he rammed himself into a tree trunk. Like it was a football player on a touchdown run, Blake kept ramming it. His face and shoulder were bloody, and I realized I’d seen those bruises and scratches before. He wiped off the blood and ran the course. Then he ran it again and again, until he nearly dropped from exhaustion. It was the first time I saw the toll it took on him to be Number One Son. I vowed to be the opposite.”