Peony Red (The Granite Harbor Series Book 1)

by J. Lynn Bailey

  He’s scared. I can see it in his eyes.

  I nod like I’m a little girl. Tears begin to stream down my face, and I pull Eli into my arms and begin to shake. “I’m cold.”

  Eli gently pulls my arms free from his neck and slowly begins to undress me, his eyes never leaving mine.

  First, he slides my UGGs from my feet, gently and carefully. He slides my sweatshirt over my head, exposing my black lace bra. Eli pulls me up into his arms, unbuttons my jeans, and slowly eases them down around my thighs, setting me back down on the bed, completely pulling them off.

  Eli, still fully clothed, doesn’t look anywhere but my eyes as he quickly takes off his clothes. He stands me up, pulling me to his body again.

  My flesh against his.

  He unfastens my bra, pulling it away from between us, and my breasts are firmly against his chest. He then slides my panties down, the small piece of lace that separates the difference between a man and a woman, using his foot to pull them away while still keeping our bodies together.

  I feel all of him harden against me. He pulls away so that I no longer feel him against me.

  “No, please,” I beg from somewhere deep within me.

  I know he does this because of the trauma that he saw me relive. I know he pulls away because sex has somehow become secondary to him, overthrowing his need.

  He groans an apology into my ear as his body shifts back toward me so that I feel his length against me again.

  “Yes,” I say, “like that.”

  Fifteen

  Eli

  October 14, 2017

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “Remind me never to pick up my phone when Bryce calls again.” Alex tosses her phone in her purse.

  “That bad?” When I open the door for Alex, she cringes.

  “Gotta get used to it.”

  I shut the door, jog over to my side of the truck, and hop in.

  “Bryce.”

  I put the truck in reverse, placing my palm on her seat. “What about Bryce?”

  “She thinks we’re going to have sex.”

  I should have filed the fucking papers years ago.

  Why? Why did I wait so long? Holding out for hope maybe? That Grace and I could miraculously make it work? That, somehow, I’d fall back in love with her? That, somehow, she’d change? That I’d change? Divorce wasn’t a label I wanted to wear. A label I didn’t want Pop to have to wear, to answer questions when he went downtown.

  Hey, heard about Grace and Eli. What a shame they couldn’t work it out.

  But what about fate? This idea that maybe we have to experience people who come into our lives to find out who we are. What we love. Who we love. Maybe they’re tests. People who test our integrity, our character, our willpower.

  I take my fingers and run them along the length of her shoulder. I can’t answer her question. I know I should. I know I want to have sex with Alex. So bad. God, so bad. Not because I know how it will be, but because I want to be with her, touch her. I want to be the man who takes care of her. Hold her when she’s upset. Protect her heart. I want to be the keeper of her future. Our future. But there are just two small roadblocks.

  Her past.

  My ex.

  Monday, I tell myself. I’ll print out the papers tomorrow and take them by the courthouse.

  My phone rings, and I jump. I’m about to hit Ignore because nothing is more important than Alex. But I see the name flash across my phone.

  “I’ve got to take this, Alex.” I expectantly look to Alex. I know she’s waiting for a comment, some sort of words after her statement about sex. But I can’t give her the real answer. The one I want to give.

  “By all means.”

  “Hey, Mer. Everything all right? Yeah. Right. On shift tomorrow. Call you in the morning. Yeah.”

  She glances over at me.

  “Will do.” I hang up the phone. “Oh, shit.” I veer off the road to the other side where the flames are coming from.

  I look back to Alex. She’s ghost white, and she’s not moving, just staring at the flames.

  “Alex, are you all right?”

  No answer.

  “Alex.” Louder this time.

  Still nothing.

  “Alex!” I take her arms in my hands. “Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

  But she can’t speak. She looks at me as if she can’t hear a word I’m saying.

  Shock, I think to myself. Does she have an irrational fear of fires? No. This is trauma.

  I need to make sure there’s no one in the abandoned outhouse. Another unit pulls up behind me with two police officers. Warden Haddock also pulls up behind us. Someone must have called it in.

  “Stay in this truck, Alex. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” I jump out of the truck and meet Warden Haddock.

  Alex bolts right toward me. She pulls at my arm, tears clearly visible. “Eli, no.” She pulls on my arm again. “Please don’t go. Please!” she cries.

  I don’t want to let her go. God, I want to protect her heart from this. Whatever she experienced, it isn’t good.

  “Don’t let her out of your sight!” I say to Warden Haddock as I and the other two officers make our way to the outhouse.

  “Please, let me be brave this time. I need to save him. He’s going to die!” she screams.

  And this statement that comes from her mouth takes my heart with it.

  I quietly open the passenger door and pull her sleeping body in my arms. I carry her to the front door of the Malcomb Place, trying not to wake her.

  She jerks up. “I need Eli. Please.” She struggles.

  I tighten my grip around her. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

  I’m in too deep, I tell myself.

  I’m not sure if this is the right move or not, but she needs rest, so I carry her into the bedroom, setting her down on the bed. I know I need to reassure her. Calm her. “I’m all right. I’m right here.”

  She begins to shake as she falls against my chest. “I’m cold.”

  I gently pull her arms from me even though I want nothing more than for her to be in my arms. I have to do what’s best for her and not me. I’m methodical, only because I want her to know this has nothing to do with sex and everything about taking care of her needs.

  It’s when I undo her bra with my hand and pull it between us that I feel her against me. All of her.

  Please don’t get hard. Please don’t get hard.

  I keep my eyes on hers, assuring her I will take care of her. Heal the wounds I can’t see. Tonight, I witnessed a heartbreak, a loss so deep. Something happened to Alex that she’s not ready to talk about. So, all I can do is give her time.

  I sit her on the bed and undress, not breaking eye contact. When I’m done, I pull her body to mine.

  Fuck.

  I pull away from her, not wanting her to feel me.

  “No, please,” she begs.

  I hear it in her voice. Panic. Desire. Brokenness. Sadness. And love.

  “I’m sorry.” I shift back to her, allowing her to feel me against her stomach.

  “Yes, like that.” She quivers against my chest.

  “Are you still cold?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I pull her up into my arms again like a child and carry her into the bathroom. “A hot shower.”

  I lower her to me, letting her feet hit the floor. I look into her broken eyes, pushing her dark hair behind her ears. She looks up at me, and it’s the most vulnerable spot she’s been able to meet me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I take her face in my hands and pull her close to my lips—not because I want to know what they feel like, but because I want her to hear me. “Don’t ever apologize for your feelings, Alex. When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here.”

  I guide her into the shower, and I try not to see the way the water drips from her lips, her eyelashes, affect me. I want so badly to take care of her body.

  I wash her hair an
d then lather the soap in my hands. I carefully slide my hands over her shoulders and down her arms and her fingers. I lather more soap. My hands idly move over her hips, her thighs, back, and stomach.

  Her legs begin to quiver.

  I shoot up and whisper, “Is this okay?”

  “Yes.” The S lingers on her lips as her head falls to my chest.

  She takes my hands and pushes them to her breasts, and I freeze.

  “I—”

  “Don’t stop, please,” Alex begs. “Please. You can’t now.”

  “Alex, it’s not that I don’t want to. I do. Look at me.” I make her see what she’s doing to me. “But it’s not right. Not right now.”

  This is so messed up. Her pleading look kills me. What’s right and what’s moral fuck with my head as my hand pulls at her breast.

  Fuck it. Show her, Eli.

  I lean down and put her breast in my mouth. Each nipple gets the full attention that it needs. My tongue explores the texture, the feel of each dark areola in my mouth. It only makes my dick hurt more, but I don’t care. If it helps her feel better, it’s worth it.

  She’s panting when I look up at her. I want so badly to put my tongue in her mouth. But, instead, I slowly pull away, trying to find the clarity to erase the thoughts of her on top of me, of her in my mouth, of my dick inside her to leave. I close my eyes.

  “Don’t close your eyes,” she says as her lips touch my chest, my nipple now in her mouth.

  “Oh my God, Alex.”

  What if I slip my fingers inside her? Still not right, Eli. Still not right.

  Her mouth is now on my stomach, and I pull her up to face me.

  My mouth crashes into hers, exploring all I can. I try to be slow yet not wanting to stop for one moment, fearing this is all a dream. I pull back and breathe. I look down at Alex, whose eyes are closed, her lips swollen from mine. Pushing her hair back from her face once again, I turn off the water that’s now turned lukewarm.

  “Come on.”

  I put a towel around our bodies, take her hand, and lead her back into the bedroom and onto the bed. Still wrapped in a towel, she falls against the mattress in the darkness.

  “Wait, Alex.”

  I need to think rationally. Think with my right head. As much as I want this, I can’t. She’s too important. What she experienced tonight is too fucking much. What if I plague her memory and add more awfulness?

  I can’t do this with Alex yet.

  “I need to see you,” she says as she stands and drops her towel. She walks to the wall of curtains and pushes them back. The moon sits in the sky, giving light to the bedroom.

  Eli, get your shit together.

  You can’t do this.

  Wait.

  Just wait.

  And, on top of all that, you’re still married, Eli. It will break her heart if she finds out, and that will kill you.

  She straddles me, and I feel her insides through her opening. I reach up and push her hair from her face. I slowly slide my hands from her hair to her breasts.

  She pants, never dropping my line of sight.

  “You’re so beautiful, Alex,” I groan softly, just on the edge of letting go of rationality and saying fuck it. “Wait, wait. Wait. Alex. Not yet.”

  “I’m sorry.” She slides off of me.

  I don’t dare let her go, fall away from my touch. “Sorry? Why are you sorry, Alex?”

  She curls up into a ball next to me.

  I keep my hand on her hip and curl myself around her, kissing her shoulder. “I let things get too out of control.”

  My heart is pounding against her back. I hope she feels it. “Listen, the first time we make love, I don’t want it to be because we’re trying to fix something.” I pause. “Whatever happened to you tonight, Alex, I want to fix it. I don’t want sex to fix it.” I stare out the windows. My body fits perfectly around hers. I welcome the silence.

  A faint whistle starts, and I know she’s fallen asleep in my arms. Where she belongs.

  Sometimes, the truth is better left untold.

  October 15, 2017

  I stand in the doorway, coffee in hand, watching her sleep. She’s at peace. The pain of last night hasn’t caught up to her yet. I know she’ll have to relive it when I wake her up. It’s just after five in the morning. The moon is still bright and shining through the windows.

  I walk over to her side of the bed and set her coffee down. “Alex, time to get to work. You’re a game warden now.”

  She’s awake. One eye peeks open from behind her lid.

  I smile.

  Alex looks to the bedside table. She looks back at me. “You brought me coffee?” She looks down at my uniform. “You’re already dressed?”

  “I did, and yes, I am.” I want to bend down and kiss her forehead, but I don’t. After what we did last night, it’s perfectly acceptable, but still, I don’t.

  “Give me ten minutes?” She rolls onto her back.

  Knowing she’s naked beneath the covers, I want to make love to her early in the morning. What I wouldn’t give to be these sheets right now.

  I get up. I sit back down.

  “What?”

  I lean down and kiss her forehead. I might never get the chance to do that again, but now, I won’t regret that I didn’t do it.

  I pull away and stand.

  She’s got the covers up against her breasts, holding the sheet for dear life.

  “I’ll meet you out in the living room,” I say.

  It’s five thirty a.m. We’re in the truck.

  “We’ll stop by Hello, Good-Pie before we go pick up Rookie at my dad’s and go on shift.”

  Alex is quiet. She’s been quiet since she woke up.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Kyle died in a fire.” There’s a long pause. “We were leaving a movie, on foot to frozen yogurt. We took the back way.” Alex is quiet, still staring out the window, into the darkness. “In many ways, I wish we hadn’t taken the back way. There were calls for help. Kyle was a firefighter. Someone screamed that there was a child inside.” She pauses once more. “That’s all it took for Kyle to run into the burning house and never come out.”

  I don’t think she’s looking for comfort; she just needs time and space to share this hidden trauma.

  “Thank you for last night.”

  I turn my head toward her.

  “I was out of my head.” Her eyes meet mine. “But I don’t regret anything.”

  Air is caught, lodged somewhere in my throat, and I can’t breathe. Willing my eyes to turn back onto the road as we make our way down Main Street, I find my words again. “I don’t either,” is all I manage.

  What I want to say is, Everything. I see Sunday nights in bed with you, watching the last rerun of Three’s Company before we fall asleep. I see long showers on Saturday mornings. I see you having our children. I see you in the mornings, at your computer, meeting a deadline, sexy as hell with your hair in a bun, a pencil in your mouth. In our moments of sadness, I see my everything with you. Because, when your heart breaks, mine does, too.

  But, instead of saying this, I put the truck in park and come around to her side, but she’s already opened the door. Maybe I don’t say shit like this because I’m too afraid to lose someone I love again.

  The bell rings as we walk into homemade heaven.

  “Good morning, you two!” Clay is way too happy at way-too-early o’clock. “Going out to fight crime, I see.”

  Randall comes out from the back. “I have a new recipe. Peach scones.”

  He pulls out a tray from one of the ovens, and Clay helps him to put them in the baskets.

  “We have a new brand from Maine Roasters. Maple Bacon. Go on. It’s over there.” Clay motions to the set of coffee carafes.

  “Heard about the fire last night. No damage done, I hope.” Clay rings us up.

  I move my hand to the small of Alex’s back, letting her know I’m here, hoping she takes this statement all right, as she takes
out her wallet.

  “Except for the outhouse,” I say, pulling my wallet out and pushing cash in front of Alex’s. “I’ve got it.”

  Randall walks to the counter, wiping his hands. “Heard about the woman’s body parts they’ve been finding. Any leads on that?”

  I cock my head. “How’d you know about that?”

  Sixteen

  Alex

  October 15, 2017

  I feel as though I were hit by a truck last night. My body feels beaten up. My shoulders hurt. I know it’s from the stress. I’ve never been confronted like that. Never hit the trauma head-on like that. I know that’s what Dr. Elizabeth, my therapist, called it—trauma. The word sounds so awful. Scary even.

  After Kyle died, I needed to talk to someone. I knew that was the healthy thing to do. Our sessions went as well as could be expected. I didn’t continue though.

  She said things like, “Pretend you’re a dragon. Confront the dragon head-on. Tell the dragon how you feel.”

  All I kept thinking about was the dragon scalding me with its fire.

  When I told her that, she said, “Think of it as a sign of your subconscious mind telling you something.”

  When I asked, “What?” she said, “That’s for you to figure out.”

  I’d paid a therapist good money to tell me to talk to dragons.

  But it felt good to tell Eli about Kyle in the weirdest way possible.

  I look over and watch as his jaw flexes.

  “What are you thinking about?” I ask.

  “You.”

  “Why?”

  His thumb taps lightly on the wheel. “Haven’t been able to get you out of my head since I met you.”

  My heart grow to strings. Long, lyrical strings that move with the unheard beat of my heart.

  Eli spots an ATV on the side of the road, and he pulls over.

  I reach over and touch his arm. “Wait. While we’re working, you can’t open the door for me. Treat me like one of the guys. Like Ryan or Aaron or Ethan.”

  Eli tilts his head back and laughs. “There is no way in hell I can think about them the way I think about you. But, when we work, you can get your door.”