Текст книги "Storms Over Secrets"

Автор книги: J. A. DeRouen

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

“Breathe You In” by Dierks Bentley

Present Day

I WAKE UP to two tiny paws kneading my stomach, purring loud enough to wake the dead. Okay, maybe not quite that loud, because Celia remains tucked under my arm, snoring softly. I swear her tiny rumblings and grunts are the most hypnotic love song I’ve ever heard.

“Easy on the bladder, Eddie,” I whisper as I scoop up the kitten and curl her into my free arm. I need to take a piss, but I want to enjoy this moment for a little longer. It’s not every day I wake up with a full-fledged fairy in her birthday suit beside me.

I tag my phone off the nightstand and shoot a text to Mrs. Wilson, the woman who owns the antique shop under my apartment. She always lets Mr. Biscuit out and feeds him when I’m out of pocket. That hound has her wrapped around his little paw. She even has a doggie pillow for him in the shop so he can keep her company when I’m out of town. I tell you, when I die, I wanna come back as Biz—that dog lives the life.

I slide out from underneath Celia and shift the covers back in place. When I say back in place, I mean I pull them up to her lower back, leaving the curve of her spine and the side curve of her perfect breast on full display.

She’s stunning. Heart-stopping. Soul-squeezing.

She lets out a lazy sigh and settles back into the mattress. Eddie curls into a tight ball against Celia’s stomach, and I quietly make my way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I quickly shower, anxious to get back to bed, but it definitely would not suck if Celia woke up and joined me. Nothing starts off a morning better than a shower shag.

I crack open the door and find Celia and Eddie exactly as I left them. Too bad for them, the shower woke me up, so I’m frisky and ready to play. I sneak back into the room—or sneak as much as a man my size can. I enter the bed from the bottom, pulling the sheets over my head and crawling up until I hit a pair of pretty little feet. Her toes wiggle as I pepper her with tiny kisses. When my tongue runs up the inside of her calf, she turns to her back and threads her fingers through my damp hair.

“You showered without me. That’s a no-no.” Her body jerks when I place an open mouth kiss to the back of her knee, then she moans sleepily.

I throw the covers back, and my head emerges between her legs, making her laugh. “What are you gonna do about it, Tink? Punish me?”

She grips my ears and pulls me up to meet her eyes. “Why don’t you lay back and find out?”

I don’t need to be told twice. I’m on my back in two seconds flat, ready to receive any punishment she wants to dish out. I have a sneaking suspicion it’ll be worth it. Whips? Chains? Spankings? Bring it on. All of it. Well, maybe not the whips. That’s not really my bag.

She eyes me sleepily with a smirk and a mussed head of hair. She lightly trails a finger down my chest and over my stomach to the rim of my boxer briefs. When she runs one finger in lazy circles over the tip of my cock, my eyes roll back in my head. I wish my underwear would get the fuck out of the way. Why the hell did I put those back on? When I open my eyes, she’s between my legs, on her knees, nipples hard, licking her lips. She bends at the waist and gives my dick a light kiss and smiles sweetly.

I take a deep breath, in an effort to settle my scrambled brain, and chuckle. “Not feeling much like punishment, Tink, but I’ll certainly take it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says as she slides my underwear down my legs. She throws them over her shoulder with an innocent shrug and runs her tongue up my length. She starts at my balls, then trails up my shaft, and places another kiss to my tip. My cock jerks at her touch, craving that hot, sweet mouth. “Maybe not a punishment.” She cups my balls gently in her hand. “But definitely a tease.” She places open mouth kisses up my shaft while rolling my balls around her loose fingers. “Can I tease you?”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck, yes.”

Let’s take a moment to honor a woman who doesn’t forget about the balls. There should be a trophy, a medal, a damn island named after these women. Nuts need love, too.

My dick is steel, my balls are drawn up tight, and my brain is mush. Celia lifts my dick off my stomach where it lays heavy and straining. She pulls it closer to her, and I salivate at the thought of driving into her hot mouth. I close my eyes in anticipation, but nothing happens. I crack open a lid to see what’s happening and find Celia examining me.

What the hell? What is she doing?

Then it hits me. “You’re looking for a scar, aren’t you? Really?”

I grab my dick from her hand and hold it to my stomach protectively. I shake my head in disappointment, and she has the good sense to look ashamed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Right before I was about to … you know, I saw the faint line, and I remembered your stitches. Don’t be mad,” she says, kissing the tip of my cock that’s peeking out of my fisted hand.

“Oh, it’s not me you have to worry about. You’ve insulted the love muscle. There are consequences,” I say, keeping my face guarded and my tone serious.

Her lip twitches, and her eyes dance with mischief. “I’m sure I can fix that.” She winks and unfolds my grip, finger by finger, replacing my hand with hers. “I wouldn’t want to upset the love muscle,” she says with a giggle, and then slides me into her mouth in one smooth motion, sucking as she pulls back up.

All is forgiven. Nothing wipes away hurt feelings like a blowjob. I’m a man, what can I say? The love muscle holds no grudges.

Unintelligible words fall from my lips as she works me with her mouth and fist. Incoherent thoughts flood my mind as her teeth lightly graze the underside of my cock. I hit the back of her throat, and my hands thread through her hair. I have no control of my hips as the jerk up to meet her mouth.

“C’mere, Celia, I need to get inside you. I’m so fuckin’ close,” I rasp, gritting my teeth, trying to hold back the orgasm barreling through my veins.

Her head gives me a tiny shake before driving her hot mouth all the way down my length and letting out a tortuous moan. The vibrations send shockwaves down my shaft, and I shoot off like a rocket. Blinding pleasure pulsates through me as Celia’s mouth works my orgasm.

She releases me with a loud pop, and when I finally manage to pry my eyes open, I see she’s wearing a smug grin. I reach up to grab her waist, but my arm goes limp before I touch her. I’m jelly. I barely muster the energy to expel a long, satisfied sigh.

Celia crosses her arms and raises her eyebrow. “You’re looking at the champion of the tease. Yep. That’s me, this girl right here.”

Her saucy words wake me right up, and I grab her by the waist and throw her down onto the mattress. She squeals as she flies through the air, and I’m on top of her in no time flat.

“I’m gonna have my head between your legs for the rest of the day,” I whisper, running my thumb along her jaw. She bites her lip, and I feel a shiver run through her body. “You want me to spank that clit?” Her eyes widen and turn a stormy blue, and I just know she’s dripping wet for me. I know I can flip her switch with my words alone. “Baby, I’m gonna tease you so good.”

I lower my body to hers and touch my lips to her nose, and her eyelashes flutter. A door slamming filters through the house, and we both jerk up at the sound.

“Celia, guess who’s home! You better not still be sleeping. I haven’t seen you in months, and we need some serious girl time.”

I recognize Audrey’s voice right away. I shrug and smirk at Celia. I guess our friends will find out about our change in status sooner rather than later, and that’s fine with me.

“Move,” Celia whispers forcefully, as she shoves her hands into my chest. I roll off her, and she shoots up out of the bed. She races to the bedroom door and shouts out through the crack. “I’ll be right there, Audrey. Let me finish getting dressed, and I’ll meet you in the living room.”

Before Audrey can reply, Celia slams the bedroom door and flips the lock. Clothes are thrown around the room in a flurry, and my shirt and jeans smack me in the chest.

“Put those on and stay in here.”

I slide on my jeans and watch as Celia throws on her clothes with trembling hands. I’m not sure what the fuck is going on right now, but I know I don’t like it. I walk up behind her, and turn her into my arms, pulling her head into my bare chest.

“Tink, calm down. Audrey is your best friend. I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up for. She’ll be happy for us, I’m sure of it,” I say as I run my fingers through her hair.

She tilts her head up to me, and her eyes are swimming with tears. “I’m afraid that’s where you’re very wrong,” she whispers.

I swipe the first drop to fall onto her cheek, and my chest aches seeing her this way. Once she talks to Audrey, she’ll see this is all a huge overreaction. I know Audrey wants her to be happy just as much as the rest of us. We’ve all watched Celia mourn—it’s time for her to move on and embrace life again.

Celia inhales deeply and pushes away from me, squaring her shoulders and holding her head high. “I need you to stay in the bedroom, Cain. Don’t come out, okay?”

I shake my head. “I’ll stay put, but if I think you need me, darlin’, you can’t expect me to just sit here—”

“Please, Cain. Just once, do what I’m asking you to do.”

Her pleading eyes do their trick, and I reluctantly nod. I don’t know what the hell she thinks is going to happen. What vested interest could Audrey have in who Celia dates? And, hello? The dude in the bedroom is me, and Audrey and I are buds. I expect no less than a high five from her.

Celia files out of the room like she’s walking to her execution, and shuts the door behind her. I hear muffled voices, but I can’t make out words, tone, or mood.

So I sit and wait. And I suck at waiting. I’m not a man who can sit on his hands, so I pace.

“No! No, you can’t just walk away!”

It’s the first thing I’ve understood since Celia left me, and it sends chills down my spine. Audrey’s words are harsh and laced with anger. A deep sob is the only response to her words, and it takes all my strength not to barrel through the door.

I hear the front door closing, and several minutes pass before the bedroom door opens slowly, and Celia reenters the room. Her motions are stilted and she looks almost frightened. I rush to her and crush her to me. I hold her face in my hands and take in her fallen expression.

She refuses to meet my gaze.

“Celia, look at me.” Her eyes stop on mine for only a moment before they dart away. “What did she say to you?”

“She saw your truck in the drive and your boots by the door. She knows.” Her voice is a vacant whisper. There is no fight left in her words.

“Good, I’m glad. Our friends were going to find out sooner or later anyway. Hell, Adam probably already knows, since he lives next door. We have nothing to hide. We’ve done nothing wrong.”

I look to her for some type of agreement, but her mouth turns down, and her bottom lip trembles.

“I need you to leave, Cain.”

“Okay, I’ll go for now. Why don’t I head home, and I’ll come by and pick you up this afternoon. I’ll take you fishing.”

“No.”

“No? What the fuck do you mean, ‘no’?”

She tries to break my embrace and step away, but I tighten my hold. With that one motion, it all becomes clear to me. Tiny seconds paint the picture. It’s a moment full of yearning. For me, I long for this beautiful girl wrapped in my arms, but she longs for someone else.

And I’m the fool.

“This was a mistake. I’ve made a mistake.”

And there it is.

“You’re wrong,” I say forcefully. She shakes her head and pushes my chest, but I won’t relent. “Nothing about you and me is a mistake, and you know it. You have my heart, Celia, and I know I have yours.”

“I haven’t had ownership of my heart in many years. It’s not mine to give,” she says robotically.

“Fuck that! I don’t believe it. I don’t believe you.” She cries out in frustration and breaks away from my grasp. She turns her back and covers her face with her hands. I’m not going to let her hide from me. “I don’t believe you, Celia. I feel it. I feel you. And no matter what you say, I know I have your heart. I know it beats for me.”

“No.”

“I love you.”

“Stop.”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Stop it, Cain!”

I get closer, willing her to turn around and see me. If she wants to eviscerate what we have, she should have to look me in the eye when she does it. I deserve that much.

“Stop what, Celia?”

“Just stop!”

“Say it! What do you want me to stop?”

She whips around and glares at me, muscles tense, eyes blazing, ready to strike.

“Stop loving me!”

Her words are a slap in my face, and I jerk back from the impact. I’m speechless. I’m wounded. I’m fucking furious.

After an eternity of silence, she whispers painfully, “You’re making what I have to do, who I have to be, so hard.”

“It was never my intention to make it easy for you, Celia. I did, however, plan on making it worth it. Not anymore.”

I grab my shirt off the bed and throw it on, itching like hell to get the fuck out of here. I can’t stand the sight of this room, this bed. I can’t stand the sight of her.

“I never should have led you on. I never should have started this with you. I’m so sorry, Cain.” With slumped shoulders, she releases a sob that she catches with a hand over her mouth.

“Really? That’s the tune you’re gonna play?” I wait for an answer, but she continues to stare at the floor. “You sure weren’t singing that song twenty minutes ago when my dick was in your mouth!”

Her gasp lets me know I hit my target, and my anger refuses to let me regret it. She’s gutted me, and I feel inclined to return the sentiment.

I storm to the door and stop at the entrance. This is it. I’m walking away from the first thing that’s ever felt real to me … fuck that, I’m not walking away; she’s kicking me out. Before I leave, I feel inclined to ask the one question that sits at the forefront of my mind.

“Don’t you ever wish for more than a memory?” I ask without turning around.

Her quiet cries amplify with my question, and I wait for her answer. “I wish for everything, but it doesn’t mean I can have it.”

I walk out of the room and head for the door. I walk out because I can’t bear to hear any more. I leave because I can’t fight for someone who is so unwilling to fight for herself … for us. It nearly kills me, but I walk away.

I pull on my boots and walk out of the house without looking back. It’s the only way I can do it. I hurry to my truck and crank the engine. I throw it in gear, but something catches my eye before I start backing up. Lily and Gage are in their driveway running circles around a stoic Audrey, tossing the basketball back and forth. Her arms are crossed, and her glaring eyes are trained on me.

“What the fuck?” I whisper to myself.

As I’m backing away, I see Adam standing on his porch, shaking his head at me. Yeah, I guess he called it. I’m just hoping he has the decency to skip the “I told you so” bullshit.

I didn’t see it before, but now it’s clear to me. This is an unfair fight. It’s a fight I can’t win. I can’t make her choose me over a ghost. No amount of love will erase the memories she has. Instead of competition, there’s obligation. How do I compete with that?

I guess I don’t. No matter how much it hurts, or how much it crushes me, I’m letting her go.

“Tightrope” by Ron Pope

Present Day

THE SLAM OF the door resonates through me with an overwhelming sense of finality. I don’t know how I thought this could end any other way. Honestly, I spent the last few months refusing to look ahead. Cain woke me up. The world had color again. My laughter was true. My love was real.

And now he’s gone, and I have no one to blame but myself.

I grip the edge of my bureau and pray for composure as I hear the front door open again. Her heels click as she walks through the house, and I don’t dare turn around. I allow the tears to fall silently, but I can’t show Audrey.

Her footsteps stop, and I feel her presence in the doorway. She watches me for a time, and I try to push the hatred away. She doesn’t deserve that from me—none of this is her fault.

“Are you ready?” she asks in a curt tone.

“Almost,” I say in an even tone. “Please give me a few minutes, Audrey.”

She’s silent, but she doesn’t leave. I shuffle jewelry, makeup, whatever I can get my hands on, around the bureau, hoping she’ll walk away.

“Tell me this is nothing, Celia. Please tell me it was just a fling.”

I shut my eyes and swallow the whimper in my throat. She doesn’t want to know the truth. Her love, her loyalty, will always be with Lucas.

And so will mine. It’s the only way.

So I grip the ledge with white knuckles and lie to my best friend. “It was only a fling, Audrey. It didn’t mean anything.”

And I feel a part of me disappear with the lie.

Audrey questioned me when I insisted on driving separately, but there’s no way I could keep it together for the entire car ride. So I made up a lie about checking in with my patients. It would be unethical for her to hear the conversations, so she grudgingly relented. Instead of calling patients, I give myself the hour to feel the loss. An hour isn’t nearly long enough to deal with my feelings for Cain Bennett or the fact that we’re over.

As soon as I park the car and step out into the parking lot, she’s at my side, arm looped through mine.

“It feels so good to be back home. I missed you so much, Cece!”

I pat her hand and smile. “I’ve missed you, too, Audrey. You’re not allowed to go away for that long again; I don’t care what your boss says.”

I’m going for cheerful, and I hope I’m pulling it off. I guess I do a fair job, because Audrey seems unfazed as she skips forward. When we walk inside, I turn to her and smile.

“Give me about fifteen minutes alone?”

She tilts her head to the side and nods knowingly. Unfortunately, we both know all too well how this goes. Two months have passed since we’ve stood in this room, but together we’ve made this trek countless times.

I go through the motions, the same as every time before, but I’ve never felt so numb. I’ve never been so hopeless.

I make my way into the room and sit down, but I go unnoticed. I’m invisible, and I use this time to watch. Muttered words, twitching feet, raised scars, and frantic eyes assault me, as always. I reach out and remove the marker from his fingers. I slide my hand into his, and only then does he look up and acknowledge me, if only for a brief second. That’s all I get these days.

“Hello, Lucas.”

He removes his hand from my grasp and reaches for the marker. He continues writing figures, drawing symbols, and computing numbers without ever meeting my eyes. I know what he’ll say. It’s the same seven words every time, without fail.

His fingers stop moving, his eyes close, and he whispers, “Are you going to keep your promise?”

Audrey slides her fork into the whipped cream, through the chocolate filling, and stabs into the buttery crust. She slowly chews the bite, moaning and closing her eyes.

“Oh my gosh,” she says, covering her mouth. “I think I just had a piegasm. You’re gonna regret not getting a piece. Seriously, the coconut cream pie looks like heaven. Who knows, I may even steal a bite.” She winks at me and goes in for another bite.

Ruby’s Pie House is as much a part of our weekly ritual as our visits to Lucas. We always make sure to stop in for a slice of heaven on our way back home. Ruby is known statewide for her pies, and I’ve been known to eat two pieces. They are that good. I’m just not feeling it today. My stomach is heavy, and I have a feeling a dose of sugar would only make it churn angrily.

“I’m not very hungry today. Next time,” I say with a tiny smile.

“What in the hell does hungry have to do with it? This shit is pure gluttony.” Audrey chews slowly, watching me like a science experiment, waiting for the inevitable chemical reaction. I’m trying my hardest not to give it to her. “Lucas looked well today. He seems to be improving, don’t you think?”

I press my lips together and give her a quick nod. Audrey is an eternal optimist where Lucas is concerned. Unfortunately, she wears a heavily tinted pair of rose-colored glasses. She sees only what she wants to see.

Her fork clanks onto her plate, and she crosses her arms. “You don’t agree with me.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.” Before I finish the sentence, she’s shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry, Audrey, but he’s not.”

“He was much calmer today.”

“He spent the entire visit looking over my shoulder. He focused on his hallucinations, not you and me. That’s why he seemed calm. He was distracted.” I hate to argue with Audrey, but sometimes I get tired of pretending.

“He looked clean and well dressed.”

“That’s because it’s Saturday. He agrees to take one shower a week and it happens to be on Friday. We usually visit during the week, so he looks more disheveled.”

I see her irritation rising with every word, but if I have to live in reality, so does she. I’m tired of holding her hand.

“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“No, Audrey, I most certainly don’t. I’m only telling you what I see. And even if you don’t want to hear it, I’m going to tell you what I know.” She pushes her chair away from the table. I grab her hand before she can stand. “Nothing will change without incentive. With no light at the end of the tunnel, he will continue to refuse to cooperate. You need to speak with your parents again.”

Audrey throws her hands in the air. “Yes, that’s exactly what I need to do. Bang my head up against the wall for the hundredth time.”

Lucas’s parents hold all the cards. After his third suicide attempt, a bottle full of prescription pills shoved down his throat, they obtained a judicial commitment that remains in place to this day. Lucas’s refusal to cooperate with his treatment only adds fuel to the fire, and the courts have extended the commitment time after time.

“They can’t continue to bury their heads in the sand while Lucas rots in that hospital,” I whisper forcefully. I squeeze the bridge of my nose in an attempt to push back the headache pulsing behind my eyes. “He needs a gesture, Aud. It doesn’t have to be huge, but he needs something. Maybe a day pass home if he takes his meds and attends therapy sessions for two weeks.”

“It won’t work. They never listen to a word I say. It only makes them dig their feet in deeper.”

She doesn’t see it this way, but watching her cross her arms and shake her head shows me they’re not the only ones who aren’t listening. Maybe it’s time for a different approach.

“Fine,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. “I’ll talk to them. I’ll make the trip tomorrow, and I won’t leave until they hear me out.”

“Have you lost your mind? You can’t do that!”

“What choice do I have?”

Audrey places her hand on the table and leads toward me with pleading eyes. “If you think they’ll listen to a word you say, you’re wrong.” Her eyes fill with tears. “They’ll deny you visitation again, Cece. Sometimes I feel like they’re looking for a reason to do just that. Please don’t give them one. Where do you think Lucas would be then?”

The fear settles in my gut, and I close my eyes. I know she’s right. My relationship with the Landrys is tenuous at best. They tolerate my presence in Lucas’s life, but just barely.

After his suicide attempt that night so long ago, I had no choice but to break my promise to him. I told Mrs. Cindy and Mr. Gene everything, including his first suicide attempt the night of Grams’s funeral. My confessions opened the floodgates to a thousand questions.

How long have you known about this?

Why didn’t you tell anyone?

How could you think you were qualified to handle him?

What else have you kept from us?

I kept looking to Mrs. Cindy, waiting for her to speak up on my behalf and admit I tried to warn her. I felt sure she would defend me or at least show me some understanding.

She never said a word.

That was the day I lost the only parental figures I had left. They blamed me for what happened, and I couldn’t much argue with them. Not only did I make the worst decision of my life, I continued to make it over and over again, day after day. I made the conscious decision to keep Lucas’s secret—it wasn’t a quick decision made in the heat of the moment. It was an irresponsible choice made by a stupid girl, and Lucas paid the ultimate price.

It didn’t take long for the psychiatrists to diagnose Lucas. Chronic paranoid schizophrenia. They used phrases like “severe,” “difficult to treat,” and “poor prognosis.” After all these years, the words still feel like condemnation. Lucas doesn’t deserve this. No one does.

The first time I went to the hospital to see him, I found out the Landrys denied me visitation. Lucas was locked up in this scary hospital, all alone, and I couldn’t have any contact with him.

It would have been kinder to kill me. At least my suffering would end. Those were the darkest days I’d ever faced. Guilt and regret threatened to suffocate me.

I didn’t know it at the time, but Lucas was even worse off than me. Since his admission, he’d refused to eat or speak until he saw me. When his weight loss had hit twenty pounds, they’d finally relented. Now, I’m allowed to visit him weekly with the stipulation that Audrey be present as a chaperone.

It’s the only concession they’ve made in six long years.

So as much as I hate to admit it, Audrey’s right. I can’t bear the thought of losing all contact with him again. I’ve hurt Lucas enough. I have no other options.

Audrey squeezes my hand and gives me a watery smile. “I know you don’t think there was any improvement, but I know he looked better today.”

I know too much to believe Audrey’s words. Can Lucas improve? Absolutely. Without a doubt. I see my patients thrive every day with the proper therapy, medication, and support. But, right now, he is refusing two of these things, and his family support can be considered misguided, at best. Part of me believes his parents think they are doing what’s best for him. The other part of me believes they are doing what’s best for them, hiding their son away from judgmental eyes.

“Okay, Audrey.” I still don’t agree, but I’m all out of fight today.

“Please, Celia, just have a little faith. He’s going to get better and things will go back to the way they used to be. You’ll see.”

She stands and tosses her purse over her shoulder, signaling it’s time to go. I’m grateful for the distraction, because I’m hoping Audrey can’t see what’s written plainly on my heart.

What would my best friend say if she knew I didn’t want things to go back to the way they used to be?

How would she feel if I told her my feelings for Cain are more potent and consuming than anything I’ve ever felt for Lucas, and I don’t think faded memories are to blame?

Unfortunately, my head knows what my heart can’t accept. If she knew any of this, I would surely lose the only family I have left. A person can only shoulder so much loss in a lifetime—I know this to be an irrevocable fact. Audrey leaving me would tip the scale. I would break from the weight of it.

So I tuck my secret away, safely out of sight. It’s what I do best. It’s all I know.