by Joss Wood
Yet he’d never felt better because he’d just had the best sex of his life in the hallway of Darby’s childhood home. He couldn’t, wouldn’t regret a damn thing.
Maybe when his leg fell off from lack of blood, he’d feel a bit pissed, but other than that? He’d stay where he was as long as he could.
Eight
Judah sprinted around the corner leading to the Brogan house, enjoying the feeling of the bitingly cold air burning his lungs. Darby had left earlier that morning to do whatever she intended to do on her “personal” day and he’d given up trying to look after Jac and get some work done around half past three.
Desperate to exercise, he’d called the country club and within ten minutes he had a highly recommended babysitter on his doorstep. As he was about to leave the residence, Jac cooperated and fell asleep in the sitter’s arms and Judah knew he had ninety minutes, two hours if he was lucky, to exercise. He’d immediately headed for the state-of-the-art gym at the club and followed that session with a punishing run.
Now, Judah approached Darby and Levi’s house and frowned when he saw a luxury car pulling into the driveway. Slowing down, he watched as a slim blonde woman exited the car and walked around to the passenger door. Frowning, he watched Darby slowly climb out. The older blonde, who could only be Darby’s mom, placed her arm around Darby’s waist as they slowly walked up the steps to the front door.
Judah released a low curse and accelerated, reaching them as they hit the top of the steps. “What’s the matter? What happened?”
Mother and daughter both turned, and Judah frowned at Darby’s pale, pale face. “Are you okay? Where’s your car?”
Callie placed a hand on his arm. She quickly introduced herself and then said, “Darby’s fine, Judah. She’s had a minor procedure. She’s sore. I’m driving because she isn’t allowed to drive for twenty-four hours.”
“Where’s Jac?” Darby demanded, her mouth tight with worry.
Judah jerked his head toward the front door. “I hired a sitter from the club. She was sleeping when I left.”
Callie smiled at Darby before giving her a gentle hug. “I’m going to leave you in Judah’s capable hands, darling. Take it easy, okay? I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Wait, Mom...what?” Darby frowned as Callie all but jogged down the steps. Looking from her to Judah, Darby threw her hands up in the air. “She was going to look after me, be at my beck and call, help me with Jac.”
“I’m here, so is the sitter.” Judah opened the door and gestured for her to step inside the warm house. He saw her wince and her hand went to her side. Concerned by her dull eyes and pinched mouth, he didn’t hesitate. He bent down and scooped her up, holding her against his chest.
“Dammit, Huntley, I can walk,” Darby hissed, thumping his chest.
“It’ll be quicker if I carry you.”
Judah swiftly carried her down the hallway to the study, kicked the door open with his foot and gently placed her on the large sofa in front of the enormous flat-screen TV that dominated one wall. Sitting down on the coffee table in front of her, he allowed his hands to dangle between his legs, reminding himself that he couldn’t interrogate her. He didn’t have that right.
“Where the hell have you been and what happened?”
Not a good start. But he needed to know she was okay, that she wasn’t ill or injured. He placed his hand on his heart and tried to rub away the burn. He hated to see her injured, hurt, a diluted version of the vibrant woman he knew.
Darby couldn’t meet his eyes, so Judah gripped her chin to lift her face. In her eyes, he saw traces of embarrassment, a truckload of defiance and underneath it all, fear. He gentled his touch, gave her a small smile. “Darby, a million things are running through my mind right now, none of them good.”
Darby sucked in air, then grimaced. “I had my eggs harvested today. It turned out to be a bit more painful than I expected.”
Judah frowned. What? What on earth was she talking about? “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
Darby drew patterns on her leggings with the tip of her index finger. “I have severe fertility problems. I will never be able to conceive a child naturally and it’s been recommended that if I want children, I undergo IVF within the next few months. The first step is having my eggs harvested and then frozen.”
Judah opened his mouth to say something sympathetic, then abruptly pulled the words back. She didn’t need sympathy, she needed understanding and he didn’t know where to start with that. “And I’m presuming you want kids?”
Darby touched her top lip with the tip of her tongue. “Yes. I can’t afford to wait so I’m doing this solo.”
Brave, brave woman. And so Darby: there was something she wanted so she went out and grabbed it.
Judah heard the knock on the door and the sitter poked her head around. “I heard you come in. Jac’s in her playpen. I gave her a bottle and a banana for a snack. I hope that’s okay?”
Judah nodded. “Do you have anywhere you need to be?” he asked. “Can you hang around for another two hours?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
The door closed behind her and Judah looked at Darby, worried. She looked so pale, so tired. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Cocoa? Pain pills?”
“I took some meds earlier,” Darby replied. She picked up her legs to lie down on the couch. She tucked a pillow under her head. “Thanks for not making an inane comment about my wonky womb.”
He knew she was trying to sound brave, but she just sounded defeated. Judah lifted his hands and spread them apart. “Honestly, Darby, I have no idea what you are feeling. I am exactly the opposite. I really don’t want kids and am very happy with the idea of being childless.”
“Really?”
Judah nodded. “Yeah.”
“Can you tell me why?”
They were wading into uncharted territory, into deeper waters. This conversation would take them from colleagues who were sleeping together to...something deeper, undefinable. He didn’t like deep or undefined, but she’d been honest with him and he needed to—wanted to—reciprocate.
Judah couldn’t think of a decent reason not to tell her the truth. “My brother is twelve years younger than me and when he was born, I, somehow, ended up being his primary caregiver,” Judah stated, his tone flat. “My father and stepmom’s contribution to raising Jake was to make him and birth him. Up until I left for college, I all but raised him.”
Darby shook her head, as if she didn’t believe what he was saying. “You mean you looked after him after school, you helped him with his homework, that kind of stuff, right?”
This is why he never spoke about his childhood. People—Darby type of people—never wanted to believe what he was telling them. “No, I looked after him. He was born at the beginning of the summer holidays when I was twelve, and my stepmom had very bad postpartum depression. She literally could not take care of him and my dad had to work. When I had to go back to school, she roused herself enough to look after him until I got home but then I was on duty while she slept or went out. Somehow, God knows how, the responsibility of raising Jake was passed on to me.”
“Oh, God, Judah, that’s horrible.”
He shrugged and noticed the empathy in her eyes. Thank God there was no pity. Pity made his skin crawl. “I didn’t have time to do sports or date or do anything at all. My job was to take care of my brother. When my father started making noises about me attending a local college, I knew I had to do something to escape so I studied and got a full-ride scholarship. I abandoned Jake to save myself.”
God, he hadn’t meant to say that last part. There was something about Darby that made him want to open up, and that scared the crap out of him.
Darby linked her hands around her knees, her eyes focused on his face. “And the guilt nearly killed you.”
Judah lifted one
shoulder in acknowledgment of her statement. “I tried to come home as often as I could but every time I came home, I felt Jake slipping further and further away from me. He was so mad at me for leaving so he did whatever he could to piss me off. Joyriding, boosting cars, alcohol, weed, stronger drugs.”
“You had a right to live your life, Judah, to have a life.”
He knew that, he did. Intellectually. “Jake’s never stopped being pissed at me.”
“And that’s why he had an affair with your girlfriend.”
Judah winced. “Yep. I loaned her my apartment in Manhattan. She had a gig at The Met and I was in Australia on a project. Jake, somehow, hooked up with her and moved in. I caught them in bed together and gave them the rest of the day to clear out. Jake took my meaning literally, he stripped my apartment. Anything that he could sell for drugs, he did.”
Darby lifted her fist to her mouth, seeming shocked and pissed on his behalf. “I hope you had him arrested.”
She got it, thank God. Choices and consequences... “My father insisted I drop the charges or I’d be kicked out of the family.”
“You chose the latter,” Darby said, her voice holding no trace of judgment.
“He served a year. I’m blamed for his criminal record. My family and I have no contact.”
Darby shook her head in disbelief. “After all you did for Jake? Unbelievable.”
After so long, it felt both strange and wonderful to have someone get it, to have someone smart and together and thoughtful be on his side, agreeing with his choices. The hand squeezing his lungs eased and the guilt, for the first time in years, retreated. Judah felt like he could breathe. “So that’s why I don’t want kids. I’ve been a dad, it wasn’t that great.”
Darby touched his hand with the tips of her fingertips. “And you’ve never had second thoughts?”
Judah shook his head. “No, in fact, I even came really close to having a vasectomy about a decade ago.”
Darby’s smile was both humorous and self-deprecating. At his lifted eyebrow, she shrugged. “I was just thinking that we are a badly matched pair. You don’t want kids, I do. Thank God there’s nothing more between us than great sex. We’d be disastrous together.”
Apart from them disagreeing about what they wanted from life—that little thing!—they were damn good together. Sexually and mentally compatible, equally strong, equally independent. She was the only woman he’d ever encountered whom he could see in his life five or ten years down the track. That had never happened before, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with her, what to think.
Judah noticed her heavy eyes, so he leaned forward and placed his lips to her forehead, keeping them there for longer than he intended. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
* * *
Mason rolled off Callie and stalked naked to her en suite bathroom. After cleaning up, he gripped the edges of one of the freestanding basins and stared at his reflection in the mirror above his head. He looked the same, he noted. Blue eyes, a three-day beard. Same mouth, nose, body...
So then why did he feel like he was a stranger inside his skin?
Flipping on the tap, he bent down to drink water from his hand before splashing it on his face. Four months ago, five, he was living a perfectly normal life as a single father, having discreet affairs when time and circumstances allowed. He’d been reasonably content running his coffee shop, running herd on his boys. Coasting.
Then Hurricane Callie blew into his life.
He’d thought it so damn simple: he liked her, they’d have sex, they’d keep having sex for as long as it was fun. Then they’d drift apart, no harm, no foul.
But here he was, two and a half months into the year, and he was floundering. His business was successful, but it was boring; his kids were growing more independent by the day, and living in this community was like living in a goldfish bowl. Mason was so damn jealous of Callie’s trip to Thailand, of her freedom to pick up and go.
Actually, every time he thought about Thailand his brain wanted to explode.
“Let’s talk, Mace.”
Mason turned to see Callie standing in the doorway, her lush body covered with a white robe, holding two glasses of red wine. Walking over to her massive square cedar-clad bathtub, she sat down on the edge and crossed her legs.
She nodded to a towel and Mason grabbed it, wrapping it around his hips before taking a glass from her. He gulped and leaned his shoulder into the wall.
“It’s not the same, is it?” Callie asked, her eyes wide and blue.
He wanted to lie, but he didn’t. “No.” But that didn’t mean it was bad, just different.
“Is it because I’ve come out of my shell...sexually?”
Mason nearly choked on his wine. “God, no.” Her sexual confidence was amazing and such a turn-on. The sex was the only thing going right at the moment.
“Then what’s the problem, Mace?”
How to put this into words? He was a numbers guy; they made sense. His annoying, undefinable feelings were harder to explain.
He raked his hand through his hair. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel like I am looking at a math problem and I know the formula is wrong, but I don’t know why.”
Callie nodded. “With me or with your life?”
Mason shrugged. Feeling like he was frying in the spotlight, he decided to swing it onto her. “You’re different, too, Callie.”
Callie tipped her head and waited for him to continue.
“You’re calmer, more centered. Less nervous, more confident.”
“And that’s a problem?”
No...but it was different.
“Are you tired of the chase, Mason?” Callie asked in a bland tone.
Her eyes were shadowed, and he couldn’t read how she was feeling, couldn’t discern what she was thinking. Before the New Year, before her Southeast Asia travels, he’d been able to read her. Now she seemed like a closed book.
Then her words sank in and he felt impossibly, undeniably angry. “What did you ask me?”
Callie swirled her wine in her glass and refused to meet his eyes. “Months ago, I was lost, quite naive, lacking in confidence sexually. Then I ran into you, all big and bold, demanding that I face life again, that I enjoy you and sex and kissing and touching. I listened, and I took a chance on you.” Callie raised her eyes to him and grimaced. “We had a marvelous week between Christmas and New Year’s. The night of the party, I stepped back from you, just for a moment, and you used my actions as an excuse to run.”
Her words lodged in his skin and exploded as little bubbles of truth. Not able to deal with how much he enjoyed being with her, how wonderful he’d felt having her in his life, he’d used Ray as an excuse.
Mason’s feelings for her scared him and he’d run.
Ouch.
But because he was in the wrong, he did what guys do and went on the attack. “I didn’t run as far as you.”
“Fair point. But I took my ring off, put Ray’s photo away and, crucially, I came back. We’ve been together twice since the coffee shop encounter, we have had what I thought was miraculous sex but...but I feel like something is off. The only conclusion I can come to is you are tired of the chase.”
He couldn’t let her think that. “It’s not that, Cal. I’m not tired of you.”
“Well, I’m not going to sit here and play guessing games with you, Mace.” Callie stood up and folded her arms across her chest, her wineglass resting against her upper arm. “I’m going to be the adult and tell you what I am feeling, dealing with. I’m not ready to slide into retirement, to live the rest of my life as a wealthy widow. I want to do something, Mason, be someone. I’ve always been Ray’s wife or the kids’ mom, supporting their dreams, their goals, their interests. I want to contribute.”
He loved her fire, her determination to keep
growing as a person and carve out her place in the sun.
Oh, God, he thought he might love her.
“I’ve been looking into some projects I can contribute to, but you should know that I’m not going to be living here on an ongoing basis. I loved traveling, Mason, I want to do more of it. I loved Bali and Thailand and there are so many more places I want to see, experience.” Callie pulled in a deep breath and tried to smile. “I’m crazy about you, Mace, but if I stay here, content to coast, to wait for visits from you, I’ll find myself drifting again and then I’ll be lost. I don’t want to be lost again.”
Mason, touched beyond belief, had no words. He feared losing her, but he was even more terrified of asking her to stay, asking her to sacrifice herself to be with him. He valued freedom—his own and others’—too much do that to someone he adored.
Instead of talking, he pulled her into his arms and tucked her head under his chin. He understood her need to fly, he just needed to find a way to hand her a set of wings.
Or to find a set of his own.
* * *
Darby walked into the games room at the Brogan house and quickly scanned the area.
Judah, Noah, Matt and Levi were playing a game of pool on the table first bought by a Brogan ancestor at the turn of the century. A barrage of insults flew across the green fabric and Darby winced; four alpha men, it was bound to get competitive. Good thing she wasn’t playing.
She walked over to the table and saw that Judah had a difficult shot to make.
“You’re a decent player, Judah. You should play Darby sometime. She likes to play, and we don’t like playing with her.”
Judah fell into Noah’s trap. “She’s that bad, huh?” he said, looking up from his bent position over the table.
Darby forced a scowl onto her face. “Hey! I’m not that bad.”