by Harper Sloan
This heavy pain shoots through my left side at her words. I should have been there, and as ridiculous the thought is, I can’t shake the thought that I let this girl down somehow. I have spent years hating her, thinking she had just forgotten us and moved on. To know she suffered is not sitting well.
“You know about Mom and Dad, right?” She looks up at me, all sad and broken, for confirmation. With my weak nod, she continues. “Dee was all I had left. She finally caught me alone one day. I was picking up some groceries. That was one of the only things I was allowed to do alone. She pulled me into the bathroom and begged me to talk, begged me to leave. I brushed her off again. She bought me a prepaid phone and told me to call her, day or night, if I needed her. We were able to sneak a few calls and secret meetings but not many. She didn’t live far, close enough to come when I could get away.” She stops for a while, and I just sit there, struck dumb, waiting on her to continue, all the while struggling not to go find this fucker.
“Are you sure we need to go over this? It isn’t pretty, Axel.”
I want to scream, No. No I don’t want to hear this. Anything but this. “Yeah, Izzy, keep going.”
“Okay . . .” Pause. “Well . . .” Pause. Inhale. Exhale. “A few years back, I went to meet Dee. Nothing big, just wanted to see her. We had it all planned. I called her the day before from the phone she gave me, told her I missed her and just wanted to spend some time together. I set dinner in the slow cooker, ran my errands, and snuck in a Dee visit. It would have been fine and he never would have been the wiser but I was running late. He got home right after me, and even though I thought I had made it . . . he knew.” She stops and levels her eyes with mine. Her eyes almost look gray. Her eyes always used to change with her moods . . . and gray was always the one I hated the most. “That was the night I finally used that phone for her to save me.”
I don’t realize I’m not breathing until my chest starts hurting. I can’t even move, can’t even allow myself to move. My God . . .
“I got lucky. When I passed out, the game wasn’t fun anymore, and for the first time, he left after he finished with me. Dee got there and got me out quick. I haven’t seen him since the day I picked up my stuff. The divorce has been in limbo for the last six or so months.”
I can’t stand to hear this story. I wish to God this were just a tale, not the life she was living when I thought she was happy. Not touching her is becoming unbearable. I reach over and grab her hand before she is able to pull it away, rubbing my thumb over her soft skin and looking into her eyes. As hard as it is for me to hear, it can’t be easy to retell.
“I don’t even know what to say right now, Princess. I . . . I just don’t know. It kills me to know you had to live with any abuse for a second, but years . . . Izzy, I have never wished harder that I would have been there.” Before I even finish speaking, she wrenches her hand away and scoots to the other side of my bed.
“No . . . you do not call me that, Axel. And we are not going there. I’ve explained my marriage, but I will not go there with you. Leave it in the past, please.” Her raw desperation is the only thing that keeps me from fighting her on this. We will be talking about that, but I’m smart enough to know she will shut down if I force her now.
“All right, Izzy, I got you. Explain the package to me. Greg told me what it was, but I don’t get how it matches the story you told me. Did you have . . . kids?” The cost my control takes to get that out with a neutral tone is high. The thought of another man touching her is enough, but to think of another man planting his seed in her body—unimaginable.
She was mine.
She is mine.
She will always fucking be mine.
I can see the walls coming up instantly; she is blocking me out and masking her emotions perfectly. I have no idea what made her shut down this time. I could stick a metal rod up her ass and she still wouldn’t be as stiff as she is right now.
“We couldn’t have children,” she says quickly and quietly. “That’s all that was—a reminder that I couldn’t give him children.”
Done. That statement is said in such a way that I know there will be no talking about that in detail. I’ll give her that play. I don’t know many women who aren’t a little upset about not being able to have children, and deep down, I can admit the world without a chance of more Izzy in it is a dull place.
“That was the first time he contacted you?” I ask in an attempt to change the subject, making a mental note to ask Greg for more detail later.
“Not at first. I think he had a hard time finding me. I just recently started working, so he would have had to look for Dee to find me. There have been some calls, but nothing bad. Not until the package.”
There’s something I’m missing. I can’t ignore the feeling that there is a big part of this picture missing. This asshole has been pretty silent and distant for so long. With the exception of the divorce hold-up, he hasn’t been making waves. Something is off, but I can tell she isn’t going to open up much more. I check the time and see that it is creeping up on dawn, just cementing the fact that we are done for the night.
“We need to sit down with Greg and the boys. I need to check out the system in your house and then you need to tell me how you want this to go. But that can all wait for tomorrow. It’s late and I’m sure your earlier brush with adventure isn’t exactly keeping you wide awake. I’ll grab some clothes. You can use the bathroom then sleep. We can call the guys over in the morning.”
Her eyes are wide—wide and shocked. “I’m not sleeping here. You can take me home or I can have someone come get me. You wanted to talk and we talked. Now I want to leave.”
Throwing my head back and laughing was probably not the wisest move, but she must be out of her fucking mind if she thinks I am going to let her out of my sight before I can nail down a solid plan. She doesn’t know it yet, but we are about to become the best of friends.
“Not fighting about this shit. It’s late and I’m sure anyone you would call has already gone to bed. One night isn’t going to fucking kill you, babe. This bed might as well have the Gulf in the middle of it. I’ll stay on my side. Tomorrow we will figure this out and get this mess straightened out. Don’t piss me off. Take the clothes. Go get fucking cleaned up and sleep.” I walk over to the dresser and yank out a tee and some briefs, tossing them over to her, hitting her right in her stunned face. That seems to knock her out of whatever has her all tied up. With a huff and a whole lot of sass, she stomps over to my bathroom and slams the door.
I feel the strings of the years of hating her slowly start to loosen.
I can’t ignore the desire to make her mine. It is still there, but I can’t forget that she left and forgot about me pretty damn easily. I will take care of this problem and then—then—we will take care of us. We have enough to deal with right now; figuring out everything else can wait. I just can’t decide if I want to figure us out for closure or to bring us back together. Only time will tell; one thing at a time.
I step out of the room, pull my phone out of my pocket, and dial up Greg. One ring and that fucker answers like he has been waiting. I’m not sure what to take from their relationship, but I am not happy with how close they seem.
“Is she okay?” he asks, and fuck me, he sounds wrecked.
No, not wrecked. He sounds destroyed.
“She will be. Told me about the ex. You did not tell me he fucking hurt her. You did not tell me a fucking thing about how bad it was, Greg. Problem husband not wanting a divorce—that is what you said. Can you imagine my shock when I find out he slapped her around?”
“Act like a bitch later, Reid. How is she?”
“That shit isn’t finished with me and you, hear me that. She’s changing. Keeping her here for tonight. Family meeting, motherfucker—my house, tomorrow morning.” I should be glad she has someone determined to be her support but that is getting locked down. I am back and Greg isn’t taking that job from me.
“She’s sleeping t
here? You have one bed, Reid. I can be there in ten to take her home. I’ll stay there until tomorrow when we can get together. Then we can reassess.”
“No. End it, Greg. I will fight you and fight you hard on this one.”
His harsh exhale comes over the line. “I don’t like this, not one fucking bit. If you fuck her up, swear to fucking Christ, I will kill you.”
I pull the phone away from my ear; surely I did not just hear him right.
“No time, Greg. We will talk, but right now, I have more important things to deal with. If you take anything from me right now, know this and remember . . . never would I harm a fucking hair on her head. Never.”
“If you believe that, Reid, then you’re more delusional than I thought. I guarantee you, just being there is hurting her enough to last a lifetime.”
With that, I hear him hang up, leaving me more confused than I was earlier tonight.
CHAPTER 11
Izzy
If I could stay inside this lush bathroom all night, I would. My heart feels like it’s been torn from my body and trampled on. Gutted, completely gutted. It was hard enough to live through those years with Brandon, but I did and I have worked so hard to move on. Rehashing that with the one person who has always held my heart, the one person I thought was gone forever? The pain is unfathomable. Never in my wildest dreams did I believe Axel would be back in my life.
The severe torment of just knowing he has always been very much alive is what is weighing on me the hardest right now. I keep running through my head all the things I needed him by my side for. All the things I was forced to deal with alone.
When he asked me about the picture, my heart stopped. Right there in the middle of his room, it just stopped. I’m not under the delusion that Axel is back and mine. Oh, that ship has sailed. I held on to the smallest hope that he was out there somewhere, but I can’t ignore the fact that he left me. He left me, and when he did that, he left his baby—the baby that I wasn’t able to protect. Of course Brandon would know how hard that was for me. Not that he ever was willing to share me with any child we would have created, but he knew why I had so readily agreed never to have children. My baby is gone, just like its father, and that is something I will never share with him. He doesn’t deserve to know, and if I’m honest with myself, I doubt he will care. After all, if he could so easily leave the person he professed to love so deeply, a child wouldn’t change anything.
I make quick use of his bathroom. I take a brief shower, wincing when the hot water rolls over my sore nipples. I dry off quickly and pull on the soft tee that smells like Axel; it hits me all the way to my knees. Jesus, he wasn’t this large when we were kids. He was tall but never so . . . solid. I don’t even bother with the briefs. What’s the point when I am already swimming in his tee? Running my fingers through my hair, I do a quick scan of his counter, look in some drawers, and hope for an extra toothbrush. Negative. Isn’t that just wonderful. Fuck it. That asshole wants me here, might as well use his shit. After I finish brushing and giving myself one hell of a ‘stay strong’ mental lecture, out I walk.
Shit . . . shit, fuck.
There he is. Walking back into the room, all large and mouthwatering. I want to leave, run, and never look back.
“Which side?” The slight wobble in my voice is hardly noticeable, and I am mentally cheering myself for keeping such a brave face.
“Don’t care. A bed’s a bed.” And with that, he walks into the bathroom and shuts the door.
Well—I guess that’s that then.
Walking over to the side farthest away from the bathroom door, I make quick work snapping the lights off, and diving into the sheets, and burrowing down. Naturally, my luck would be to pick the side he must sleep on. I feel like I have dived into an Axel-scented cloud.
With just the hint of his scent, I can feel the memories slamming back, fast and fierce. Biting my lip as hard as I can without drawing blood, I squeeze my eyes shut, running through every single mental exercise I know to try and jump this massive hurdle.
The past can’t touch me.
I am stronger than this.
I am a survivor.
Fuck you, fate . . . Fuck you hard.
After a few minutes of listening to the shower and my inner chants, the stress of the week and the events of the day finally drag me under. Not long after that, the bed dips, and in my dreams, I smile, because I hear a soft whisper. “Missed you . . . so fucking much, Princess.” Sometimes, dreams don’t let you down because that is the only thing I have been waiting to hear since the day he left me forever. In my dreams, all my problems melt away, because I am safe. Safe and back in Axel’s arms.
Axel
I walk out of the bathroom—after spending a fucking stupid amount of time in the shower taking care of the problem Izzy has stirred up—and just stand there, water still dripping down my chest, disappearing when it reaches the towel tightly knotted around my waist.
Izzy is back in my bed. Fuck me. A weight that has been sitting solid on my shoulders for way too long lightens up. Not by much but damn, anything is a relief. I should have known if she ever walked back into my life that I wouldn’t be able to hold on to all of my anger.
I walk around my side of the bed to get a closer look at the tiny ball under my sheets. And there it is—that face that can bring me to my knees. She looks so peaceful in her sleep, her hands folded under her cheek and her hair fanned out against my pillow. Like an angel, my Princess.
We have missed so much, wasted so much time. Even though I know how much we still have to work out, including the small detail of reminding her she is mine, I still can’t fight the instantaneous contentment that washes over me.
I feel whole again.
I know better than to hope but I can’t help the thought that I would stop anything from taking her from me again.
Walking back over to the other side, I drop the towel and climb in. She makes a small whimper in her sleep that has me throwing caution to the wind and shifting to wrap her in my arms.
“Missed you . . . so fucking much, Princess.”
And with Izzy back in my arms, pressed tight with no gap between our bodies, I finally find sleep.
Izzy
The first thing I notice when I start to wake up the next morning is how unbelievably warm I am. Finally, Dee is listening to me when I tell her we can’t keep bumping the AC down to artic temps. I nestle in, wiggling and trying to find that perfect spot that will take me back to the blissful sleep I was just in. That wiggle is all it takes for me to become wide awake and all that warmth to wash away, leaving me frozen solid.
There is a large hand covering my very tender breast and soft breathing tickling my neck. That warmth I was loving a second ago is kicking my ass, almost quite literally. I can feel the solid, very naked wall of muscle and strength against my back, fitting like a glove tight against my body. I try to pull my legs up but they are tangled with larger hairy ones. The biggest—and I mean biggest—issue I seem to have right now is the large erection poking me, settled right against my pussy. And all that wiggling, all that searching I was doing for the warmth in my sleep? All that did was cause me to drip with desire.
Cracking one eye open, I take in the room. My trip around the large master starts with one tall dresser and ends with a pile of laundry on the floor next to it. Other than that, empty. Looking down at the offending arm that holds me tight to its owner’s body, I try to think of a way out of this hold. He has his arm snaked up my shirt, cupping my breast tightly like it’s his anchor. Shifting, I try to dislodge him naturally but all I get is a tightening of his hand and arm and pressure pulling me even snugger against his body.
Blast my stupid hormones. His rock-hard erection just jutted even deeper between my legs, hitting my clit with a sharp jab.
I suck in a sharp breath of pure pleasure.
Oh my God. I need to get him away from me.
I slam my elbow back, earning a grunt and more tightening.
“Axel Reid, you wake up right now!” I yell. “Get your paws off my tit and call your dick off its search for my pussy. He found it, asshole. Now back off.”
“Urmmpf . . .”
That’s all I get. Nothing. He pulls me back again. Only this time, I have the added bonus of some whiskers against my neck and some humming. If he has a wet dream against my body, I might kill him.
“AXEL!”
“Shut up, Izzy. I’m trying to enjoy this.” Wide awake. That jackass is wide awake, not even a small sliver of sleep left in his voice.
I move to pull away, grinding my hips against his dick again, not even able to keep the moan silent. Finally, after a small struggle to detangle my legs and push his arm away, I am free. I scoot all the way over to the edge and jump off the bed. I turn, ready to ream him a new one, but stop dead. Mouth drops and I am drooling, I’m sure of it.
Perfection. He’s lying against his stark white sheets, all large and solid. He has one thick arm thrown over his eyes and one resting against his perfectly sculpted abdomen. Both of his arms are sporting some thick tribal tattoo that wrap around both shoulders and around the front of his chest. He has a large angel against his side with her hands brought forward in prayer and her wings wrapping around to his back. I can’t see her face clearly, but from here I can tell it is a beautiful piece. My eyes travel down and see some more ink disappearing under the sheet riding low on his hips. The thin sheet is doing nothing to hide the tenting from his erection. Long, solid, strong, and very aroused.
He moves his arms and his bright emerald eyes meet my startled ones. I do one more sweep of his body before looking back and meeting his questioning look.