by Jewel E. Ann
“How can you say that?” she asked in disbelief.
“Because I’m his wife, the mother of his children. Maybe … just maybe he might have found humor in it or found it … slightly erotic before we got married. But not now. Graham is his friend. I think it would change their relationship.”
“You mean he doesn’t know that you slept with my husband in college?”
Again, I shot her a glare, giving her an incredulous look. “That just sounds horrible, Lila. Like Graham was your husband and I slept with him.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do. But if you said those words to anyone else, they would not know what you meant.”
“Do you think …” Her words faded.
“Do I think what?” I moved to her other hand, scrubbing off the polish.
“Do you think Graham will be attracted to me again?”
I stopped, unable to look up at her because I didn’t think I heard her correctly. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“How long do you think it will take for him to want to have sex with me again?”
“Well,” I resumed, “I think he shouldn’t expect that until you’re healed, and that could take a while.”
“What do you think he’ll do in the meantime?”
“Jerk off more.”
Lila snorted. “I’m serious.”
I shrugged. “So am I.”
“Do you think he’ll … wander?”
I snapped my head up. “What?”
Her lips twisted for a few seconds. “He has needs.”
“Lila Rae Porter … you had better be joking or dealing with some sort of PTSD. Why would you think for one second that Graham would cheat on you?”
Her gaze dropped to her lap. “I don’t know. I just … I don’t know,” she murmured.
“When he saw you in the ICU right after your surgery, he broke down. I had never seen that side of Graham. He sobbed over your broken body. Sobbed! It shattered my heart to see him like that, but it also erased any doubt, I mean any doubt I might have had about his love for you. So even if I think it’s a little douchey of him to not have brought you home from the hospital, I don’t let it dissuade me from trusting his love for you.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’m right.”
God … I hoped I was right. If I wasn’t right, Graham was a dead man.
“So … how’s Ronin feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Is he back to work?”
I nodded.
“Did they figure out why he went into cardiac arrest?”
“No.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
I shook the bottle of nail polish, contemplating telling Lila about Ronin’s theory … his past. We hadn’t discussed it since that day in my shop. Lila continued to get better and so did Ronin. He wasn’t back to himself, singing in the shower yet, but he was working and helping out around the house. It was hard to determine if his residual issues were really related to Lila’s accident.
“Of course, it bothers me. But I hit this point, you know? No solid answers, but also there was nothing else I could do. He’s supposed to be wearing a monitor still, but half of the time I find it tossed aside on the nightstand. He doesn’t think it’s his heart.”
“Then what does he think it is?”
Forever. That was how long Lila and I had been friends, or at least as long as I could remember. We didn’t keep secrets. All the things Ronin had yet to learn about me … Lila already knew.
Still, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about Ronin’s near-death experience. I felt protective of him. As much as I loved and trusted Lila to keep an open mind and not judge him for what he believed, I found myself struggling with it. So if I still couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that Ronin had this highly sensitive empathic power with people whom he tried to save, then how could I possibly expect her to understand?
“He thinks it was a fluke. A strange, unexplainable incident that probably won’t ever happen again.”
“I hope not, for both of your sakes. How about your mom? Is she doing better since the seizure?”
“Yes. It’s…” I shook my head, brushing the pink nail polish onto Lila’s nails “…weird. I know she only has so much time left, and her seizure was a very hard reminder of that. But today she looked good. Healthy. It was hard to believe that there’s this cancer spreading through her body, stealing her life.”
“And your dad? How’s he holding up?”
“I’m scared for him. After she had that seizure, I was sitting on the floor in my house, holding my kids, Anya with a bleeding cut. And Ronin wasn’t doing well. Mom was on the floor in the bedroom waiting for the paramedics, and you were still in the ICU. Something inside of me snapped, causing me to take a step back and reevaluate what would be left of my life if I lost my mom, you, and Ronin. And I knew … I knew Franz and Anya would be enough. More than enough. I just don’t know if my dad will be able to step back after Mom dies and see that he still has enough left in his life to … live.”
The second I finished that thought, my heart sank to the pit of my stomach. “Lila … I … I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.”
I looked up from her hand. It didn’t feel fine. “I wasn’t thinking. I was feeling, and—”
“Evelyn, it’s fine.” She nodded, maintaining her best reassuring smile.
After Lila’s parents died, she had a rough time. I wasn’t enough. My family wasn’t enough. The only thing that filled that void in her heart was a flood of never-ending grief. She talked about that time as a black hole with no exit. She took a whole bottle of prescription pills that a friend from school sold her, and I found her in her car passed out later that afternoon in the school parking lot.
“I’m proud of you.” I continued painting her nails.
“Proud of me?” She laughed. “For trying to commit suicide?”
“Once. You tried once. Then you got help. And your situation hadn’t changed. You were still an orphan. You still missed your parents. You still thought life was unfair. But you never tried to check out again. And you could have.”
“Thank you, Evie. That actually means the world to me,” she murmured with soft sincerity.
“You’re a survivor.”
“Ha! I don’t know about that. Look at me. I’m at the mercy of other people to do the most basic things like go to the bathroom.”
“But you’re feeling better.”
“Yes. But I’m not without pain.”
“Where do you hurt?” I capped the nail polish and gave it a few more shakes before doing her other hand.
“My ribs are still sore and my leg. But my lower back has started to really ache at night too. I think it’s just from being bedridden. I’m hoping the physical therapist will help that by getting my body moving, so I can heal quicker.”
My hand shook, so I had to cap the polish again and flex my fingers a few times to keep it from shaking again. “Your lower back, huh. When did it start hurting?”
“About two days ago. It’s sciatic pain, shoots down the back of my good leg. Talk about two steps forward, one step back. But, on the flip side, this has been the best day emotionally that I’ve had since the accident, and it’s all because of you, Evie. My heart is full right now. I can’t believe you’re here, painting my nails like we used to do so many years ago.”
Taking several deep breaths, I held the nail polish brush with a firmer grip to steady my stroke. “I’m happy to do it,” I whispered, but not to Lila, more to a voice … that voice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
From the drive, my house looked like one of those lit villages people put on their mantels at Christmas time—the windows aglow with soft light, the roof covered in snow, and smoke wafting from the chimney as if breathing out a long exhale on a cold evening.
Sue’s car was gone, and the Subaru was parked in the garage. I anticipated takeout wai
ting for me and the kids in need of baths. On the nights Ronin got home before me, which wasn’t often, he picked up dinner so at least everyone was fed. Since the accident, work took everything out of him. I was appreciative of his efforts. Takeout was fine.
I slipped off my boots and opened the door. “Sorry, I’m so late—”
“Shh …” Ronin put a sudsy finger up to his lips.
With wide eyes and an unhinged jaw, I stood unmoving at the door. The house was quiet. My husband stood at the kitchen sink doing dishes in his thermal shirt and jeans that he wore over his base-layer pants to commute to and from work.
I slid off my jacket and padded into the kitchen in my wool socks.
“Your dinner is in the oven, keeping warm,” Ronin murmured as he rinsed the last dish.
“You made dinner?” I wrapped my arms around him, resting my cheek on his back.
“I need a shower, babe. You might not want to hug me. But yes, I made dinner.”
“It’s eight-thirty. Are the kids really asleep?” I slipped on an oven glove and retrieved my dinner.
“Yep, or at least they’re probably close.”
“Bathed?” I set my plate on the counter and glanced at Ronin, giving him a raised brow.
He dried his hands and hung the wet towel over the dishwasher handle. “Yes. Bathed. Any more questions before I shower?” Ronin crossed his arms over his broad chest.
I loved the way he looked after a day on the slopes in his fitted shirt, messy hair, and the perfect shadow of stubble covering his handsome chiseled face.
“No more questions.” I grinned, grabbing a fork from the drawer. “You seem to have a bit more energy today.”
“It’s been an okay day. I’m not sure I have that much more energy, but I’ve been in a good mood all afternoon, and that goes a long way.”
I nodded slowly, taking a seat at the little nook by the window. “Lila was in a good mood today too.”
“I figured.” Ronin turned and disappeared down the hallway.
I poked around at my dinner, no longer feeling hungry. He figured. What did I expect? He told me everything. I let him think I believed him, even when I knew my doubts overshadowed the true conviction I fed to him at the shop two weeks earlier. The worst part? I think he knew. Disappointment took up residence in his eyes when he looked at me … when I couldn’t hold his gaze.
He figured.
Lila had a good day. Ronin had a good day. Coincidence? God … I hoped so. After forcing several bites of food, I covered my plate and put it in the fridge. Tiptoeing into Franz’s room, I gave him a kiss on the head. He didn’t even stir. Then I did the same to Anya. She released a heavy sigh, which made me smile. Ronin had not only made dinner; he wore the kids out, bathed them, and had them asleep before nine.
As I sneaked out of Anya’s room, Ronin’s voice stopped me. Tears filled my eyes. After two weeks of silence, he was singing Sinatra in the shower again. My lips curled into a much needed smile. The whole day had been filled with smiles.
Lila had a good day. Ronin had a good day.
Releasing a slow breath, I pulled my sweater over my head while instinct guided me to the bathroom. One by one, my clothes dotted the floor like crumbs on a trail.
“Evie.” Ronin grinned as I opened the glass shower door.
I stepped inside, closing my eyes as he retreated to let me under the shower head. When I opened my eyes, Ronin was just … gazing at me like he did that day in the little cafe in Vancouver. It made my heart feel light, like it had wings, exactly like that day in Vancouver.
He didn’t touch me. He didn’t have to.
“I’m glad you had a good day.” I moved behind him, kissing along his back.
Ronin pressed his hands to the tile wall, bowing his head. My fingers massaged his back, inching lower until he moaned.
“Yes … god that feels incredible.”
He mentioned a bit of back pain the previous day. I didn’t think much of it, until Lila said she had lower back pain.
It’s sciatic pain, shoots down the back of my good leg.
Her words replayed in my mind as my thumbs kneaded lower, working to his left side and down over the tight muscles of his buttock.
“Evie … god … right there. How did you know I needed that right there?”
I hoped his question was rhetorical because I couldn’t answer. Too many tears falling down my face mingled with the water as a hard lump formed in my throat.
You feel her …
What did it mean? If I acknowledged it, what was I supposed to do? What would happen next? Was Lila dying in spite of her great strides toward recovery? Or would she live, leaving Ronin to be a voodoo doll enduring every painful moment of her life … for the rest of her life?
We stayed in the shower until the hot water evaporated into a lukewarm stream. Ronin shut off the water and turned toward me. Water clung to his thick eyelashes as he blinked. We weren’t the only ones in that tiny space. All the unknowns wedged their way between us—my mom’s cancer and Lila’s recovery.
The voice.
Weeks without making love.
Days of going through the motions to keep our family functioning.
We were merely existing, until that day. Hope peeked its head over our horizon. She wasn’t blindingly bright quite yet, but that didn’t stop us from feeling her warmth.
“Lila’s having lower back pain. On her left side. Sciatica.”
Ronin nodded slowly, blinking away more droplets of water. “Why the tears, Evie?” He brushed his thumb along my cheek below my eye.
“I wanted to believe you, but it was just … hard.”
His other hand landed on my neck, gentle yet possessive. He bent down and kissed me, delivering his love with complete patience, unbroken trust, and a never-ending passion. That kind of love shouldn’t have evoked regret or guilt, but it did. I think I could have told him I saw a pig flying and he would have believed me. I felt certain Ronin loved me in a way that reached far beyond the simple definition of unconditional.
“Roe!” I gasped as he lifted me up, guiding my legs around his waist. “I’m too heavy. Your back …”
His open mouth swallowed my protests as he carried me to the bedroom. I sucked in a breath, turning my head to the side as my wet back hit the sheets.
“Cold!”
He grinned at me, leaning back to grab the blankets, completely covering us under their tent.
I giggled. It felt incredible.
“Evelyn Alexander … you are my favorite.” He kissed his way down my body, pausing at my breasts just long enough to make me moan and arch my back, slowly threading my hands into his wet hair.
“Your favorite what?” I murmured as my eyes closed.
He dragged his tongue down the center of my body achingly slow while his strong hands gripped my hips. “Everything.” He dipped his tongue into my navel. “You’re my favorite everything.”
“Roe …”
He excelled at wringing every possible emotion out of me. I needed a few minutes to just bask in his words. They were really incredible words, maybe the best words a man had ever spoken to a woman. However, my mind wandered to his back. I knew it hurt. “Your back.” I made another protest.
“Fuck my back.” He lifted my left leg, resting my foot on his shoulder, opening me up to him.
I clawed at the head of the bed, desperate to find a pillow to put over my face because things were about to get loud.
The next morning, I woke up before Ronin and made him an English muffin with peanut butter and filled his thermal canteen with hot coffee, feeling extra generous after his night of being so generous to me. After I had his breakfast lined up at the end of the counter for him to grab on his way out the door, I retrieved a pen and notepad from the junk drawer and wrote him a note.
Roe,
You’re my favorite everything too. Xo
~E
I heard the creak of the bathroom door, so I quickly folded the note and shov
ed it into the pocket of his jacket so he’d find it when he reached for his keys. Feeling a bottle next to his keys, I pulled it out of the pocket. It was a prescription bottle, but I couldn’t read the label in the dim light, so I took it over to the single light that was on above the sink.
“What did I do to deserve this?”
I jumped at Ronin’s voice, hugging the bottle to me as he pressed his chest to my back and wrapped his arms around me.
I cleared my throat, smiling past my surprise and confusion. “I think you know exactly what you did.”
He nipped at my neck. “In that case, I might have to do it more often.” His right hand slid under my short nightshirt, splaying out over my stomach. I felt so small molded against his tall frame with his possessive hand warm against my skin. “Think I can make a case for you making homemade pizza tonight?” His sexy, gravely morning voice seduced me as that possessive hand breached the waistband of my pink panties.
I swallowed as he teased my clit. “Probably …” My response came out as a labored breath.
“Do you remember what this used to lead to before Franz could walk?” He slid two fingers into me.
I closed my eyes and dropped my head back against his shoulder, widening my legs.
Yes. I remembered how good it felt to have Ronin fuck me against the kitchen counter from behind, our hands interlaced on the edge of the counter. I remembered how we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, how every touch, every fleeting glance led to clothes being ripped off and him impaling himself inside of me on a guttural “fuuuck … Evie …”
Those days were over, but the tradeoff was so much better. It made the stolen moments that much more intense and quick, maybe embarrassingly quick.
“Harder …” I whispered.
He chuckled, kissing my neck. “Only you, baby, would ask me to finger you harder.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to.
Ronin obliged me while his left hand slid up my shirt to my breast, pinching my nipple.
“Roe …” my knees started to buckle.
He moved his left hand across my chest to my other breast, but it bumped my hand clutching the pill bottle. With a soft rattle and a clunk, it landed in the sink. We stopped, frozen in place with me a little breathless and him … well, Ronin didn’t move an inch for several seconds.