by Vivian Arend
Poor Dana Coleman.
Only the smallest amount of guilt struck that her first thought wasn’t that she was sorry to hear Ben was dead, but that Mrs. Coleman had been the one to find him. “But why isn’t Rafe here?”
“I don’t know.”
Laurel dug in her pocket for her phone, checking if there were any messages. Nothing. She sent a followup to the one he hadn’t answered.
Fear rose in her gut—
She wasn’t worried that Rafe had done anything terrible, but that he’d experienced something terrible. That he was hurting.
She glanced at Jesse. Afraid to ask, yet even more afraid not to. “Do you know how Ben…?”
Her whispered words faded into nothing.
His face folded into a terrible frown. “Not yet.”
Laurel shot to her feet. Didn’t matter that it wasn’t even six a.m.—she needed to do something, not least of which was find Rafe. “Where could he be? I can go look—”
“Laurel, think,” Jesse interrupted. He reached out and caught her upper arms. “What’re you going to do? Drive your teeny car in circles on winter roads in the dark? Rafe could be anywhere, and we don’t even know what’s going on. Hell, for all we know, he got stuck over at his brother’s for the night, and they’re having breakfast at Gabe’s. Don’t go off half-assed.”
“I need to find him,” Laurel insisted, fear closing off her throat and breaking up the words.
“For now you need to go home. Go to work like normal. Maybe Rafe will call you. If he does, make sure he knows to get his ass home.”
It might be logical, but it made her crazy to think of simply going about her day as if nothing had happened. “If you hear anything, will you call me?”
He passed her his phone. “Punch in your number.”
She did so with shaking fingers, the first rush of adrenaline wearing off. When she passed his phone back, he shoved it in his pocket then caught her close, squeezing her tightly in support.
He was big and strong. A wall of Coleman, but as sturdy as he was, it was Rafe’s comforting touch she craved. Rafe’s arms she wanted around her so she could offer him support in return.
That instant confirmed what she’d thought the previous night—her world had changed. What she felt for Rafe was no longer based on childish games, or even long-time childhood caring. The depth of emotion was so much richer because it was sorrow as well as laughter. She wanted to be with him in the good times, and in the bad. She wanted to share it all.
Now she had to find him and make sure he knew.
Jesse gave her shoulder a final pat before peering into her face. “You okay to drive?”
She nodded. “Call me,” she insisted, preparing to head home for before hitting the library.
Only once she was in the car and about to make the turn south back into town, she changed her mind, manoeuvering carefully down the snow-covered gravel road toward the Angel homestead. She wasn’t sure what she’d find, but on the off-chance she could do some good, she made the slow trip.
The snow in the driveway to the old house was well packed down for the time of day, a couple of extra vehicles parked by the back door.
She felt a little foolish as she pulled into a space next to them, but the outdoor light was on, and people were visible through the window, moving in the light of the kitchen.
Laurel made her way to the back door, wrapping her arms around herself as she waited in the cold. The door opened, and the matriarch of the Six Pack Colemans, Marion, stood gaping at her for a second before gesturing her in.
“Laurel Sitko? What on earth?”
She peeked around the woman, wishing words of comfort had magically escaped her instead of the tongue-tied nothing she offered instead. “I heard.”
As she spoke, Dana Coleman rose from where she’d been sitting by the kitchen table, sorrow in her eyes. “Oh, child. What’re you doing here at this hour?”
Only she opened her arms, and Laurel stepped forward to embrace the older woman, offering the only comfort she had to give.
She hadn’t liked Ben very much, for a lot of different reasons, but Dana still had to be hurting. This wasn’t about Ben anymore; it was about those left behind.
Maybe Laurel didn’t have the right words to say. Maybe she didn’t have a good explanation for why she already knew Ben was gone without admitting she’d spent the night in Rafe’s bed, albeit without him.
And maybe her being there was all wrong… But as she held on to Dana Coleman, it seemed as if this was exactly where she was supposed to be.
The whole time, though, one question rang in her mind like a haunting echo.
Where was Rafe?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rafe felt as if he’d been taken out behind the barn and beaten black and blue.
His head ached from the hangover rocking him. He swore his back was bent double from crashing on the hay bales in the rustic shelter with the sleeping bag from his truck as a lousy blanket. His eyes itched, his fingers were freezing, and his mouth tasted like ass.
Hell, if he had to make a list, it would be shorter to say what didn’t hurt than what did.
He swung his legs toward the ground and sat up, closing his eyes as the building spun.
The nearly empty whiskey bottle taunted him from where it lay one hay bale over.
The anger and frustration he’d felt the night before had peaked at some point, and he’d decided he should go back and actually tell his dad to shape up or ship out. Fortunately by that time he’d been too drunk to find his keys.
Keys. Shit.
Rafe patted his pockets, momentarily reminded of his cousin Matt, but the slapstick-routine didn’t seem as funny this time around.
Not much seemed funny, between his dad being a stupid jerk and the fact Rafe knew that by running off and getting drunk he’d acted even stupider.
He was an idiot.
He’d sworn long ago to never do things just because he’d been provoked, and what had he gone and done? Lost his temper and then lost his goddamn mind.
Rafe grabbed his phone, certain by now he must have a ton of angry messages from his brother. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy or sad the battery was dead. Just meant the shit he was in would be delivered face to face.
The only good thing was that Laurel didn’t know how he’d screwed up. After all the times she’d told him to ignore Ben—she’d be so disappointed.
He stumbled to his truck, cranking the heater to high and letting it warm up enough he could feel his feet on the pedals before driving straight to Gabe’s. Might as well get the punishment over and done with—since he damn well deserved it.
Only no one was around. The house was empty, there were no trucks in the yard, but when he checked the animals, they’d been fed and watered recently.
He hated to do it, but he had no choice. He made his way over to the Angel homestead, his crappy attitude changing to worry when he spotted the vehicles crowded into the yard. Both Gabe and Allison were there, along with his three uncles.
Shit. What had he done? If Ben had gone and hurt his mom, he’d fucking kill the man with his bare hands.
He rushed in the back door and skidded to a stop. His mom stood by the stove, and his heart started beating again. “Mom.”
Her face twisted when she spotted him, and leaving the wooden spoon in the pot, she turned to offer her hands.
“You look like something the cat dragged in.” She pulled him against her with a quick hug before pushing him away and patting his chest. “Oh, Rafe. You smell like something the cat dragged in. Where have you been?”
“Never mind that.” Rafe glanced past her toward the living room. Gabe and his Uncle Mike were fast approaching the kitchen. He looked down, meeting her eyes straight on and watching them fill with tears. “What happened? Why’re you crying?”
She swallowed hard. “It’s your father. I’m sorry, but he’s gone.”
The words good riddance were on the tip of his
tongue, but considering the serious expressions on his uncles’ faces, and his brother’s, Rafe held back. “Gone?”
Uncle Mike answered. “He’s dead, Rafe. Massive heart attack from what the medical people told us. Probably died after he finished chores last night.”
Rafe froze. Fucking froze—and it wasn’t just an expression, it was real. As if all the heat and fire from the previous night had burned away so utterly, there was nothing left in his soul but ice.
“I didn’t find him until this morning. I figured he was—” His mom let out a soft little sob. “Well, sometimes he does his own thing. I thought he was sleeping in the guest room.”
“It’s not your fault, Ma,” Gabe insisted, wrapping an arm around her and guiding her toward the table. “There was nothing you could have done. Remember? The doctor told you that.”
“I should’ve known,” she murmured, reaching into her pocket for a tissue.
Rafe had to be still slightly drunk. “He’s dead?”
His uncle had an arm around his shoulders now, settling him in the chair next to his mom. “I know it’s a bit of a shock. Just sit for a minute.”
Rafe stared across the table, not really seeing anything. At least not until his brother’s face came into focus. Gabe looked worried, sad and royally pissed off, all at the same time.
Yeah, Rafe was in deep shit.
It wasn’t until later that he found himself alone with his brother. He’d managed to shrug off his absence from everyone else, although his Uncle Mike had given him some pointed looks.
Once they were safely outside and out of hearing range, Gabe didn’t beat around the bush. “What the hell happened to you?”
There was no way he could tell the truth. “I’m sorry.”
His brother grabbed him by the front of the jacket, hauling him in for a split second before making a disgusted noise and pushing him aside. “God, you reek.”
“I got frustrated with that repair. I’ll go finish it now.”
Gabe gaped at him. “You really think I give two shits about the repair job? Yeah, you should have either stopped when I told you to, or at least left me a note explaining what went wrong. But that doesn’t explain why you’re showing up at noon smelling like a still.”
“I got drunk, okay?” Rafe shouted. “It was a bad day, and I’d had enough, and I screwed up. There, happy?”
“Not remotely,” Gabe bit out. “Jeez, Rafe. I’ve never known you to act up like that. Fucking terrible timing.”
His brother didn’t know the half of it.
“Go home,” Gabe ordered. “I don’t want you around everyone until you get it together.”
“I don’t need a lecture,” Rafe started.
“You’re weaving on your feet,” Gabe snapped. “And I’m at the end of my rope. Go. Home. Ma needs us to be there for her, and right now you look as if you’re barely one step out of the ground yourself.”
There was no use fighting when his brother got stubborn. Rafe marched off to his truck and got in. Slamming his door shut was stupid—the resulting pain punished him more than anyone else. He turned his truck toward home with a head that was one step away from exploding.
He stood under the shower with the water as hot as possible, the scalding liquid steaming against his face until a few loose strands of pain washed away, only to be replaced by something newer.
Guilt so cold it burned.
What had he done? What had he said? The night before was enough of a blur he wasn’t sure anymore what was real and what he’d imagined, but even then what he did know for sure—it was bad. It was real bad.
The water had gone cold by the time he left the shower, stepping out and vigorously rubbing himself dry. He pulled on sweatpants and marched into the kitchen—
She stood by the stove. His angel, shining like innocence as she stirred something in a pot, the scent of it on the air making his mouth water.
“Laurel?”
She whirled, eyes wide. “Rafe. Oh my God, you’re okay. I was so worried.”
She was across the room and holding him, and for a moment everything was okay. An angel in his arms—he had her, and he was never going to give her up.
Laurel murmured soothing words against his neck, telling him about how she’d come to see him last night and he’d been gone. How she’d slipped away from work, and he’d been in the shower, so she’d made soup, and was he okay??
The heat from her body warmed the cold spots inside, and then some. Her shirt was silky soft under his touch, and a pulse of eager desire flared.
Desire? Urgent need.
A need as desperate as a drowning man fighting for his next breath.
He slipped his hands under her shirt and over her belly. Palms pressed hard to her warm skin so he could savour the heat as he caressed up her sides. His body lit up.
Her lips met his, and they kissed, desperately trying to get closer. It was fucked up, and wrong, and he couldn’t have stopped if the house had caught fire.
Rafe lifted her to the table and stripped away her pants. Jerked off her underwear and brought her hips to the edge so he could bring his mouth down on her and feast hungrily.
Her fingers were in his hair. Part of him wanted her to tighten them to fists so she could jerk him away. Push him back in disgust and demand answers.
She did neither, her feverish moans driving him on as he thrust his tongue into her. As he slipped fingers into her wet heat and fucked her rapidly, his tongue devastating her clit.
Seconds later…or was it hours? She damn near screamed his name, sex clamping down on him as her legs quivered.
Rafe stood and dropped his sweatpants, his cock springing free. Hard and needy like the rest of him, he stepped between her legs and lined them up. The head of his shaft slipped through her folds as she fought to take a breath.
One motion, that’s all it took to thrust in, their foreheads pressed together. Laurel’s eyes went wide, but she clutched his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he shoved his cock deep then stopped.
She was still pulsing around him.
He closed his eyes to hide himself in the feel of her, in the scent of her wrapping around them as he waited until her orgasm calmed before catching hold of her right knee. He lifted it high, opening her farther to his frantic plundering.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Rafe. Baby. Yes.”
He watched his cock disappear into her body. One, and connected. The two of them completing each other. The gasps from their lips mingling to create a whirlwind between them.
Emotional overload hit, and the trembling pulse in his heart acknowledged this was because of her.
It was Laurel who gave willingly as he stole pleasure. Didn’t matter that she was moaning along with him, digging into his bare back with her nails. This was because of her, not him, and he felt selfish and dirty—
—but not enough to stop.
Not when the rush of pleasure up his spine was roaring loud enough to drown out the other voices in his head. The guilt and disgust and anger and…all of it vanished as he buried himself in her body. Used her, gave to her.
Took everything she’d give before he broke completely.
“Rafe.” She dragged her nails down his back hard enough to leave stinging trails, hips pulsing wildly as she came. He buried his face against her neck and let himself fly apart.
The floor was unsteady under his feet. Hell, the entire house could have been shaking for all he knew as he clung to her, trying to hold on to every good and pure thing she’d given him for one final moment.
Their desperate fuck had been perfect. She was perfect, and he was about to get kicked out of paradise because there was no way he belonged anywhere near her.
Never going to give her up? What an idiot he was. Being with her forever was what he wanted, and exactly what he couldn’t have.
Rafe released her leg and gently lowered it to the table. Then he pressed his fists to the hard wooden surface, because if he kept them th
ere, he wouldn’t catch her in his grasp and hold on. Wouldn’t cling to her and never let go.
Because he had to let her go. After what he’d done? He couldn’t trust himself ever again.
Laurel was kissing him, her lips brushing his face. His eyes. Butterfly-slow blessings dusting his heated skin. Her hands danced over his shoulders, his cock still buried inside her warmth.
He didn’t want to move, because the next step was away from her.
Saying goodbye was going to kill him, but hell, better him now than her someday in the future. Better to never spend another hour with her than to someday become like his father, and have a family who were better off with him dead.
He pulled back. Stole one final touch as he scooped her pants off the floor and held them for her. Laurel rested a hand on his shoulder as she lifted one leg, then the other before standing motionless as he pulled the waistband over her hips.
That was all he could bear. Rafe stepped away and did the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. “Go home.”
He turned his back on her.
She curled herself around him. “I’m here for you,” she insisted. “Let me in, Rafe. Let me help you.”
He laughed, the sound escaping hard and brittle as he carefully wrapped his fingers around her wrists and removed her arms. “After what I did?”
She didn’t move, or at least the old wooden floorboards didn’t squeak, which meant she wasn’t going to make this simple and walk away because he asked.
“I’m not mad at you,” she whispered, stroking a hand down his back. Touching the places she’d left her mark on his body. “The sex was—real. That was being alive, and being real. Shutting me out and not talking to me isn’t being alive, baby. Ben died, not you. Don’t punish yourself.”
Her fingers traced the marks on his body, but her voice—her words—they tore at the places inside where she’d left her mark even deeper.
“I need you to go away.” He faced her and hardening his resolve. Tightening his voice so he didn’t simply break down and beg. “I need time away from you.”