Working Back

by BJ Harvey

  Now, I’m walking through the door, down the hallway and through to the kitchen, the house surprisingly empty.

  Jax opens the back door and Bryant—having placed the salad bowl on the counter—steps through first, pulling me close behind him.

  Then the entire backyard lights up like a night game at Wrigley Field, and a huge united shout of “congratulations” rings out. In front of us is all of our family and Bryant’s friends, clapping and smiling at us—for us. There’s a massive “just married” banner hanging across the fence between my family’s property and his, with fairy lights swung from every hook and post, bathing the yard in a soft romantic glow that takes my breath away.

  But my breath doesn’t come back, and when I try to suck in some much-needed air, there’s no budging the giant lump in my throat. Tears sting my eyes, and I stare at Delilah, watching her expression turn from happiness to confusion to wide-eyed concern.

  I try to flee, to turn around and run away—again—but Bryant’s hold doesn’t budge. I meet his eyes with my pleading ones. His brows knit together before his expression softens and he nods.

  But instead of letting me go so I can go compose myself, he turns his head and murmurs something I can’t hear to Jax. Then Jax moves away, Bryant is bending down, and I’m being lifted up, turned, and carried back inside. I let go, burying my face in his neck.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  His arms pull me in even closer. “Give me thirty seconds, babycakes.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed, a door creaks, a lock clicks shut, then I’m being laid out on a plush mattress and Bryant stretches out beside me. I thought I wanted to curl up into a ball and die of embarrassment for totally losing it in front of everyone, but as his heat seeps into me, I don’t try to stop my body from curling into him. I rest my cheek on his shoulder, placing my palm over his heart and entwining my legs with his.

  His arm snakes around my waist, his hand rubbing up and down my back as I swallow hard and try to compose myself, knowing I’m going to have to say things I’m not ready to verbalize just yet. When my breathing normalizes, he pulls me close and moves his arm between us, cupping my jaw and tilting my face up.

  “Want to tell me what just happened?” I lean my cheek into him, wondering how he could know exactly what to do when I don’t have a clue myself. I just need him close right now.

  “I freaked out.”

  His lips twitch, tipping up slightly. “I think I got that much.”

  “I think everyone knows now,” I say quietly, breaking eye contact.

  His soft caresses stop, his fingertips pressing in and grabbing my attention. “Look at me.” His voice is soft, not angry or demanding, even though he’s telling me what to do. Normally, I’d push back, but I don’t have it in me.

  “Baby, tell me what just happened.”

  “I had a panic attack and wanted to run and hide, but you wouldn’t let me, then you swooped in and saved me.” I tilt my head back and look around the room before turning my furrowed brow back to him. “Are we in your old bedroom?”

  He nods with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t think. I just wanted to get you alone and somewhere comforting.”

  A surprised laugh escapes my lips before they turn up. “We have a lot of history in this room.”

  He gently sweeps his fingers through my hair from my temple down to the wavy ends. “Not this bed though,” he says, confusingly.

  “Um, yeah we do,” I say in my best ‘duh’ voice. He shakes his head.

  “In a bed in this room, sure. In this bed? No. Mom and Dad replaced it as soon as I got my own place.”

  I hesitate, wondering whether it’s wise to bring up the past again. “Did you live here… after I…”

  He nods. “Yeah, for about six months, then Jax and I got a place together.”

  We fall into a comfortable silence, his hand running through the length of my hair. It’s so relaxing. My eyes start to grow heavy.

  Bry gives me a little shake. “Uh-uh, Mrs. Cook. We have a surprise party to get back to, once you tell me why you had a panic attack. I can’t hold off the vultures if I don’t have the right food to give them.”

  I giggle. “Did you just call our family vultures?”

  He shrugs. “If the shoe fits.”

  “Vultures don’t wear shoes. They actually…”

  Bryant’s eyes narrow, and my words disappear. “Damn zoologist,” he says mockingly, but there’s no malice in it.

  “Better than a boring ol’ biologist.”

  “And you’re still damn good at avoiding difficult questions.” There’s so much meaning in his words, and I don’t miss the twitch in his jaw and his averted gaze.

  I sigh, my shoulders sagging. When I meet his eyes, I watch as they morph from blank and guarded to soft and questioning. There are so many layers to this man, and somewhere along the way, I forgot how much that has always intrigued me.

  How I was ever able to walk away from this man? “It just hit me how many years I missed out on.”

  With you. I don’t say it, but the flash in his expression tells me I don’t need to. He’s read my inference loud and clear.

  He doesn’t say a word. His attention shifts over my shoulder, a myriad of feelings shifting through his eyes. He tenses, his body language a picture of restraint and unspoken emotion. I’ve hit a nerve, and immediately I want to make it right again. Get us back to the somewhat relaxed groove he’d gotten me to by bringing me in here.

  “I’m sorry, Bry. I just—”

  He rolls me onto my back before lying beside me and pressing his body into mine. A sense of warmth and comfort cloaks me. It’s familiar. It’s home—it’s never been just a place for me. It’s always been him.

  This is the most intimate we’ve been since I came back and part of me is cursing the party going on outside and the inability to take this any further. I don’t want to move. I’d stay here with him like this for as long as we could.

  With his eyes locked on mine, leaning into me, Bryant drops the mother of all truth bombs. He lifts his hand and sweeps my hair behind my ear. “Right now, nobody is thinking about how many years you were gone. We’re all just thankful to have you back.”

  Oh my God. Then, it’s like a switch is flicked and the soft, boyish charm returns. “And I had no clue that the BBQ was actually a surprise party for us, but I didn’t doubt the moms would do something. They gave us our space for the ceremony, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t want to celebrate.”

  I frown. “But this isn’t—”

  His brows go sky high, and his jaw turns granite. “This isn’t what?”

  “A real marriage,” I whisper, immediately regretting the words the second they leave my mouth. Then the tension I feel in his body leeches out of him. In a flash, he moves, hovering over me, his legs framing mine, his weight against me. He braces his arms either side of my shoulders and his hardening cock presses into my stomach.

  How on earth can he be aroused during a discussion like this?

  Then again, I can’t talk, since my thighs are clenched together so tight I’m barely able to think about my panic attack. The only thing I can think about is whether a grab-and-slam is possible right now.

  “Does this feel real to you?” he asks, dipping his face so he’s all I can see. “Every single time, it’s always been real. Every kiss, every laugh, smile, frown, back and forth—all of it, Faith. It’s never been anything but real between you and me.”

  My eyes fill with tears, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to try and stop myself from crying, but in a moment as honest and raw as this, he deserves to know exactly what I’m thinking.

  I scan his face, memorizing everything: every crease and line, every freckle and blemish. All of it beautiful, all of it still able to take my breath away as much as it did the day I broke his heart and fractured my own. I lift my hand and gently cradle his jaw. “How did I ever think I could live without you?”

  Intense silence falls be
tween us, the enormity of my confession now out there. He dips down to brush his lips against mine, his eyes never once looking away. “That’s what I intend to show you over and over again until you realize deep inside of your soul that my answer will never change. I never wanted to stop you or change you. All I ever wanted was to be with you, wherever life may have taken us.”

  Before I can reply and maybe explain, he slants his head and nips my bottom lip. His hand slides around to settle on the back of my neck, then he jerks me closer for a spine-tingling, mind-numbing, end-of-the-world-and-I-don’t-care kiss. It’s a distraction, a detour from the road we were heading down.

  His tongue strokes mine, the smell, taste, feel and vision of him overwhelming me in the best possible way. My body melts into the mattress, his welcomed weight cocooning me. I grab hold of his hair and hold him in place as we continue to kiss like we’re the only two people in the world and we have nowhere else to be and nothing else to do.

  Party be damned. There’s one undeniable truth to everything he’s said and everything he’s pouring into this kiss.

  Bryant Cook is not playing around. Then again, neither am I. I’m going to eliminate every inch of doubt and hurt I’ve caused him.

  The way he’s been with me tonight, there’s one thing I’m starting to believe.

  Just like me, Bryant just might be in this for keeps.

  Bryant

  We meet Jax in our parents’ kitchen when Faith and I emerge after our talk and subsequent clean-up of Faith’s makeup.

  “You good?” he asks, switching his gaze between the two of us. I give him a nod and a silent promise in my stare that I’ll explain later. Then he steps forward, steals Faith from me, and gives her a big hug, murmuring something in her ear that I cannot hear well enough to decipher. Whatever it is, it makes her giggle, and when he finally lets her go, she melts into my side, a wry grin playing on her lips.

  I glare at him. “What did you say to my wife?”

  His wide smirk makes it hard not to chuckle. Damn twin sense.

  “I simply offered my commiserations for marrying you and your underwhelming dick.”

  “Hey, at least mine is operational. The reason Ronnie calls you Ken is ’cause your junk is made of plast—”

  “Boys…” Faith says, her voice low and husky.

  Jax flips me the bird before laughing his way through the door.

  Faith and I step back outside, we’re ready for ‘surprise party version two.’

  “Surprise!”

  “Congratulations”

  “Woohoo!” Ez cries, followed by a long whistle.

  I lead Faith to the bottom of the stairs, her fingers near on strangling mine. She’s nervous, but there’s a different air about her now. And fuck, if I don’t like that our little chat has obviously helped allay some of her fears.

  “Bakes,” Patricia Baker says, rushing towards us and pulling her youngest daughter in for a huge hug. Interestingly, when I try to pull away from her, Faith tightens her grip. If she needs me to be her anchor, then I will be unmovable.

  “And Bryant,” she says, hugging me as long and as hard as she did with Faith. Pulling back, she looks me over from head to toe. Mrs. Baker is not a woman to mess with.

  Mrs. Baker locks eyes with mine, staring at me for a long time, almost to the point where I feel uncomfortable.

  “I always knew you’d be my son, Bryant Cook.” She glances sideways to Faith who has let go of my hand in order to greet her dad. “Thank you,” she whispers. When my brows furrow, she continues. “For being here when she finally came back to us. For giving her a reason to stay.”

  My chest seizes. Of all the things she could’ve said, she had to say that.

  I decide to lock her comment in a box—for now—and steer the conversation away from anything too deep by turning toward my wife and her father. He holds out his hand to me, shaking it vigorously when I take up his offer.

  “Mr. Baker, nice to see you.”

  His eyes dance with amusement. “No need to call me that now, Bryant. Bob will be fine.”

  I nod, a smile tugging at my lips. “Okay, Bob.”

  “Welcome to the family.” He winks at Faith as she moves away toward Delilah. “Son.”

  God, can this get any more surreal? I chuckle, shaking my head. “I think I’ve been part of the furniture for a while now.”

  “That is true. I’ll let you go. But Patricia and I would love to have you both over for dinner sometime.”

  Dinner with the in-laws? Piece of cake. “That would be great. I’ll get Faith to organize it.”

  Bob reaches up and cups my shoulder. “Smart man. I’ll give you my best marriage tip—the wife is always right, even when she’s wrong. Remember that.”

  I chuckle when Patricia turns to her husband and glares at him. The Bakers remind me of my parents which is scary in itself.

  “We’ll let you go,” Patricia says, looking over at her two daughters who are laughing and talking not far from us. “It’s nice to see her happy. I’ve missed her smile.” She locks eyes with me. “I look forward to seeing it more often.”

  Her stare is intense, and I feel the meaning to the bottom of my gut. I swallow hard and nod. “You will. I’m going to make sure of that.”

  “Good,” she says, placing her hand on my forearm and giving me a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad she came home to you, Bryant. Now you can finally start your life again.”

  The Bakers move away as Faith returns to my side, tangling her fingers with mine. Then it’s like a chorus line of family members and friends moving forward to congratulate us.

  A radiant April and a very relaxed Jamie saunter over.

  “Hey, you’re back? Couldn’t have called or sent a text and let your brother know?” I ask. I look them both up and down. “The honeymooner look works for you.”

  “I highly recommend it,” April says with a giggle, glancing up at Jamie.

  Faith squeezes my hand. I look down, a corner of my mouth curving up. “One day. Definitely one day,” I murmur.

  “Faith, as your sister-in-law, it’s my duty to save you from the house-flipping talk that’s about to ensue.” April hooks arms with her. “Let’s go sit with the rest of the girls and get you a drink.”

  Just like that, I lose my wife in the crowd.

  “How’s the house?” Jamie asks,

  “Still standing,” I say.

  “Smartass. Any problems? That house has potential, but it is pretty old,” Jamie says. Jax, Cohen, and my brother-in-law, Cade, join us. Ezra comes up from the rear, two beers in hand. He reaches out to give one to me.

  “Is he talking shop again?” Ez asks with a grin. “Back in town for a few hours and he’s already slipping into work mode.”

  Jamie laughs, and shoulder bumps Ez. “Haha, asshole. I was just asking.”

  All the guys look at each other, Jax grinning, Cohen rolling his eyes, and Cade laughing.

  “Maybe he needs me to kick his ass in golf again to burst his over-sexed, over-relaxed bubble,” Cohen says.

  Jamie narrows his eyes at our baby brother. “Name the time and the place, and I’ll gladly kick your ass.”

  “Oooh, sounds like the challenge has been laid down. I’ll definitely make sure I’m around for that fight,” Cade says.

  Jamie looks over my shoulder where the women are all sitting around a large outdoor table, before coming back to me. “Everything else going okay? She seemed pretty upset?”

  “Yeah. There are a lot of things we still have to work out, but opening the door to a surprise wedding reception and being slapped in the face with what could’ve been was a bit of a shock. I’ve got it in hand.”

  Jamie’s gaze turns to one of approval. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’ve got this.”

  Ez claps my shoulder, grabbing my attention. “Anything you need, Bry, anything at all, we’re all here. We’ve got both of you in this.”

  I lift my beer to my mouth and look backward, ca
tching Faith with a champagne glass in her hand, her head thrown back laughing along with Delilah, April, Ronnie, Mom, Mrs. Baker, and a very pregnant Abi.

  When I turn back to the guys, they all have varied expressions of amusement and knowing looks on their face.

  “Oh yeah, you’re totally fucked,” Jax says with a grin.

  “Head over fucking heels,” Cade adds.

  “He’s done for,” Ez says.

  “I think I’m going to check on Faith. You guys joining me?”

  “Yeah, it’s been at least five minutes since I grabbed Ronnie’s ass. She’ll be wondering what’s wrong,” Jax says, walking ahead and moving around to his wife. He bends over the back of her chair and kisses her like he has every right to do so. I’m jealous, in a way. Faith and I aren’t at that point yet. Will we get there? You bet we will. But her panic attack and that soft spot she showed me in my old bedroom have reiterated one thing I might have forgotten amongst the car shopping, the natural, carefree banter, and the married life I forced upon her like a hurricane she couldn’t hide from. I need to ease her into this—into us—again. We’re the same people we were ten years ago, just older and wiser and maybe a little warier.

  I gently place my hand on her shoulder. She leans her soft cheek against my skin then lifts her arm to cover my fingers with her own. Holding me there. Telling me she likes it. She’s comfortable with it.

  “So when’s the next night for the driving range, boys?” Ronnie says, looking up at Jax. “Because the girls and I have decided we’re coming along too.”

  “Barbie, you know you can’t beat us,” Jax says with a smirk.

  “I dunno, Ken. Faith was telling us all about how she used to tag along and try and distract you—and how she succeeded many times,” Ronnie replies.

  Jax smirks at me. “I think that move was more effective on Bry than me. Remember when we caught you going at it in the supply shed? Balls were flying everywhere, and not just Bry’s.”