Текст книги "Pocketful of Sand"

Автор книги: M. Leighton

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

SIXTEEN

Eden

I FOCUS ON Emmy’s voice as she reads to me. This is part of her schooling.  She learns best if I can make it fun for her.  I guess most kids probably do. It’s one of the most magical parts of my day, too.  Her intelligence and animation never cease to make my heart swell with pride.

I watch her little mouth form the words, words far beyond the reading level of other children her age. I watch her little fingers turn the pages, faster and faster as she gets older.  I watch her little eyes follow the sentences, sparkling with delight as the story progresses.  This little girl, this little miracle, is my whole world. Has been since the day she was born. She saved me from…well, she just saved me. Plain and simple.

I’ve always applied myself so fully, so deeply to loving her, to protecting and caring for her, so much so that nothing else mattered.  And while I’m still applying myself to those same things, right now it doesn’t seem to be very effective in quieting the ache that’s been emanating from my heart since I opened my eyes this morning.

Cole.

My insides squeeze painfully at just the thought of his name passing through my mind. It drags with it the fright and disappointment from last night.

How could I be so wrapped up in a man I hardly know?  Why would I allow that to happen when he’s obviously got a metric ton of issues?

It’s the same question over and over again–Why him?  Why him?  Why him?

I’m getting no closer to an answer.

The snow is pouring outside, burying us deeper and deeper in a wintery wonderland.  Before, I was sort of looking forward to it in some strange way–being snowed in.  But now, I just feel suffocated.

It’s almost eight when the power goes out.  I bathe Emmy by candlelight with the last of the hot water. She laughs and plays, thinking the whole ordeal is great fun. It’s when I get her out to dry her that I’m reminded how wise she is for her years sometimes.

“Why are you sad, Momma?” she asks, cupping my cheek with her tiny hand.

“I’m not sad, sweetpea.  I’m just trying to hurry so that my daughter doesn’t turn into an ice sculpture right in front of me.”

This does nothing to eliminate the worry I find in her eyes. It breaks my heart to see anything other than child-like love and awe and carefree happiness there. Her eyes have seen too much in her short life; I don’t want to add to her scars by letting her see too many of mine.

“Are you scared?”

I close my eyes and lean into her warm palm.  “No, baby. Are you?”

“I’m only scared of leaving you.”

“Well then you shouldn’t be afraid. You won’t ever have to leave me.”

“But what if I do? You’ll be sad and no one will make you happy anymore.”

“You’ll always be here to make me happy, sweetie. And you’re all I’ll ever need.”

I need to get past this Cole thing and get back to just Emmy and me against the world. We never needed anybody before.   We don’t need to start now.

Once Emmy is dry, I start stuffing her quickly into her clothes.

“Do you think he’s still sad because he doesn’t have a little girl anymore?” she asks, holding onto my shoulder as she steps into her panties.

I don’t have to ask who she’s talking about, but I’m very curious to know why she’s thinking about him.  It seems that Cole has a hold on this household.

“He’ll probably always be sad, but that’s not her fault.  That just means that he loved her sooo much.”

Emmy grins at me.  “You make him stop being sad.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He looks at you different, Momma.  He wants to kiss you. I can tell.”  She giggles, all little girl now.  “Momma and Cole sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” she sings.

“I don’t think Momma and Cole will be kissing any time soon,” I tell her as I pull her pajama top over her head.

“But you want to.”

“No, I don’t.”

She giggles again.  “Maybe if you kiss him, you’ll be happy, too.”

“I thought boy kisses were gross,” I say, reminding her of her opinion of the stronger sex thus far in life.

“Not for big girls.  For big girls, they’re magic.”

I sweep her up into my arms and she throws her arms around my neck.  “The only magical kisses I know of are these.”  I rain kisses all over her face and hair until she lets the subject drop.

I hope, unlike me, she’ll just be able to put it from her mind.  Put him from her mind.

⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘

I envy Emmy’s ability to go straight to sleep.  I pray it means that, despite all her worries and questions, her mind is for the most part worry-free.  Unlike mine, which is keeping me wide awake.  I’m still sitting in the dark, staring at the empty fireplace, covered in a blanket, thinking.  That’s why I hear the soft knock.  Had I been anywhere other than a few feet from the door, I’d never have heard it.

My stomach clenches and I turn toward the offending sound, debating whether to answer it or pretend I’m already in bed.  I tiptoe to the door, pressing my ear to it so that I can hear if my late-night visitor leaves.  I hear a subtle scraping sound, as though a rough palm is rubbing the wood between us.

“Eden,” comes the sandpaper voice.  I don’t know how he would expect me to hear him. Maybe he doesn’t.  Maybe he knows he shouldn’t be here and he’s regretting coming.

Or maybe he’s sober tonight.  And maybe this is the Cole I thought I knew.

“Please be awake.”  There’s a quiet desperation to his plea.  It punches through the door and into my chest like a fist.  “I need to talk to you.”

I shouldn’t even consider opening the door.  I should write him off as a lost cause and move on with my life.  Go back to the way I was before I met him.  But there’s a part of me that wants him to make this right, wants him to clear things up. Tell me I was wrong. Tell me he was wrong.  To promise he’ll never do that again.

Something in me wants that badly.  So, so badly.

It’s that part which shushes all the other voices and pushes my hand to reach for the lock.

I crack the door and peek out just enough to see Cole pulling his palm away–the soft rasping I heard.  His eyes find mine and, even in the dark, I can see the cornucopia of emotions in them.  Right now, they aren’t hooded.  Right now, they aren’t hiding his thoughts from me. Right now, they’re open.

He’s open.

And that’s why I let him in.

I step back and he slides past me, not moving beyond the entryway.  I close the door, crossing my arms over my chest as we stand watching each other.

“I know it’s late, but I wanted to talk to you. Alone.”

“Well, here I am. Talk,” I say, unable to keep all the bitterness from my tone.

Cole runs his hands through his chin-length hair, pushing dark blond strands away from his face.  Thick stubble shadows his cheeks.  He looks haggard, unkempt. Like he hasn’t slept since I saw him last.  And maybe he hasn’t.

It’s only fair, I think childishly, since I haven’t slept much either.

He drops his hands like he just realized something, the familiar frown finally marring his smooth brow. “It’s cold in here.”

“It’s cold everywhere.”

He turns to look back over his shoulder.  “There’s no fire.”

“No.”

I don’t add the Duh that I’m so waspishly thinking.  I think the reason I’m inordinately aggravated is that I’m so glad he’s here, so happy that he’s sober and back to the Cole that I was growing so fond of.  I shouldn’t feel this way. I should still be mad.  But I’m not. Not really. Not nearly as mad as I am relieved that he came back. That he feels enough for me that he would experience regret over what happened.

“May I?” he asks, indicating the empty fireplace.

“I don’t have any wood.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He exits into the cold night and I wish for a second that I’d told him no. Just to keep him from walking out that door again. I’m beginning to hate it when he leaves.  Things…this house…life feels better when he’s near.

Which is pure craziness.

Within five minutes, Cole is back, carrying an armful of wood–some big pieces, some little–through my door.  “I had some for across the street,” he explains, making his way into the living room. He sets his load in front of the fireplace and deftly builds a fire.  It’s lit and already starting to crackle within just a few minutes.

“You must’ve done that a lot,” I comment, curling up on the end of the sofa nearest the fire.  I can already feel myself relaxing.

Cole shrugs.  “Once or twice.”  The curve to his lips is like chocolate for the eyes. It’s sweet and darkly sexy at the same time.  Much like Cole himself.

Watching the flames, Cole stands, strips off his coat and lays it across the chair. Rather than taking a seat, though, he just returns to the fire, staring down into it like he can see the future. Or maybe the past.

He’s not too close. But he’s close enough.  My whole being reacts to him. Pleasure, excitement, contentment, and curiosity are all swimming through my blood in equal measure.

The flicker of the fire highlights the angles and planes of his face–square chin, straight nose, high cheekbones, bold brow.  He’s magnificent. It’s the one thing that never changes.

“I was seventeen when I met Brooke.  She was fifteen. We were just kids. Stupid kids,” he begins, his voice a soothing vibration in the quiet.  “I got a football scholarship to Texas Christian. That probably should’ve been the end of us, but she kept coming to visit on the weekends.  I think she didn’t want to break up because I was her big-time college boyfriend.  I think I didn’t break up because I was a guy.  I could have my highschool sweetheart and the college girls, too, and no one would be the wiser.  And that’s pretty much how it went.  Until she got pregnant.”  The silence is broken only by the hiss and spit of sap from the burning wood.  “I married her.  Because that’s what good guys from Texas do. At first it wasn’t too bad.  She kept me on track with school.  I graduated in three years.  The coaches backed me when I told them I wanted to go out in the draft.  Got picked second round. It was like a dream come true for me.”  His tone is almost wistful as he speaks.  “So, we packed up and moved out here to New England so I could play pro football.  We set up house there once we found the perfect place to raise our little girl.  Her name was Charity.”  His voice cracks when he speaks it aloud.

A lump of emotion clogs my throat.  I know what’s coming. I know that no matter how perfect, how beautiful his life once was, the dream ended in tragedy.

“She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.  Emmy looks so much like her it hurts.  Black hair, big green eyes and she had this perfect little mouth. Like a cupid’s bow.”  In profile, I can see Cole’s lips quirk at the memory.  It only lasts for a few seconds, though. Soon, they’re pulled down at the corners again.  “I spent every minute I could with her until football practice started, but then I had to work.  After that, my life was all about the game.  Nobody tells you that it can consume you if you’re not careful.  They don’t tell you about the pitfalls. They don’t warn you about all the attention and all the parties and celebrating. The fans and the groupies.  And I was too young to know. Or to care, really.”

Heavy.  The air feels so heavy with dread that I could probably cut it if I had a knife.

“I’d practice during the week, but on the weekends, it was a whole other world.  Drinking, parties, private jets.  But I was with my teammates, so it was work.  Teambuilding. At least that’s what I told myself. It got to where I rarely ever saw my family.  I felt guilty. Guilty as hell.  That’s why I started bringing Brooke and Charity up here. We’d play house for a few days, build sandcastles, cook burgers and that would buy me some time until I felt bad again.”  He pauses and a small smile tugs at his lips, briefly. Like before.  “When it was good, it was really good, though.  Brooke and I got along.  And Charity…I could never have asked for something more wonderful.  We’d stay on the beach for hours building sandcastles. She loved it.  And before we left, she’d stuff sand in my pocket. Every time.  She said it was so we could take some of the happy with us.”

I close my eyes, emotion welling within me.  Now it all makes sense.  And my poor heart feels like it might collapse.

When I open my eyes to focus on Cole, I see that his lids are closed.  Closed against the pain, against the memory.  Or maybe he’s savoring those happy times.  Happy times that ended so, so badly.

I get up, hesitating for less than a heartbeat before I step closer to him, drawn by an irresistible force.  A force named Cole. He continues as though I never moved, as though he’d lost in the past.

“I wasted so much time. On alcohol and parties.  On people who never mattered.  Time I could’ve been spending with her.  It…”  Cole sighs and shakes his head like he’s shaking off a bad thought.  “I haven’t touched a drop since she died. Not one. Until last night.”  Another pause.  “Until you.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I feel like I should defend myself, but I don’t know how.  I don’t know what I’ve done or even if it’s really my fault that he fell off the wagon.

“When Jordan told me that Jason didn’t come home the night he came here…when I saw his truck parked here in the morning…Jesus!  I wanted to hurt somebody.  Jason mostly.  The thought of him putting his hands on you…his mouth…”  Cole closes his eyes as though the vision is physically painful.  “I haven’t felt anything in a long time.  Anything.  Except grief and loss.  And that’s the way I wanted it.  I felt like it was…it was…penance almost. Like I owed that to my little girl. Never to be happy again since she couldn’t be here.  But then I met you.”  When he turns, his eyes melt into mine, his lips twisting into a wry smile.  There’s no humor there. Like he said he didn’t want me in his head, I get the feeling that he doesn’t exactly welcome what’s between us.  “You make me feel all sorts of things.  Too many things.  Things I never wanted to feel.  But you just wouldn’t stop.  You just.  Wouldn’t. Stop.”

I take a deep breath.  “I-it’s not like I’ve done this on purpose, Cole,” I say, becoming angry.  Why is he making this out to be a bad thing?  And my fault, no less?  “I didn’t come here looking for anyone either. I just wanted–”

My words are cut off by his finger coming to rest against my lips.  “You didn’t have to do anything. You just had to show up.  With your big gray eyes and that lush mouth.  God, that mouth!  I thought I’d go crazy if I couldn’t kiss you.  Just once.  But then once wasn’t enough.”  His expression turns dire. “I was furious.  With you.  With myself. So I went and got some Wild Turkey from Bailey’s.  Jordan must’ve taken that as a green light because she showed up later with more.  I didn’t say no. I should never have even started.  But I was so…God!”  He runs his hands through his hair again, his eyes fierce.

My stomach sinks.  “So she did stay?  Jordan, I mean?”

“Just for a little while, but then I made her leave.”

“S-so there’s nothing between you?” I ask hesitantly.  I want him to say no so badly.

He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.  “Me and Jordan?  God no!  She’s sweet, but she’s…just no.”

I shrug.  “I didn’t know.”

“No, you wouldn’t know that you’re the only woman I’m interested in. You wouldn’t know that you’re the only woman I’ve been interested in in a very long time.  That’s why I was so angry about Jason.”  He takes a deep breath, his eyes pleading.  “Please tell me that there’s nothing between you two.”

My heart is pounding so hard I wonder if he can hear it.  It’s thumping in my ears and vibrating in all my fingertips.  “No, there’s absolutely nothing going on between me and Jason.”

He looks visibly relieved.  No less intense, of course, but definitely relieved.  “I don’t think I could stand it if there was.  I couldn’t…just thinking about it…Shit!”

“Well, there’s not, so don’t give it another thought.”

“It was making me crazy. You are making me crazy.”  I know I shouldn’t thrill at his words, but I do.  I do because, in his own way, Cole’s been making me crazy, too.  “Do you think you can ever forgive me for what I did last night?  If I could take it back, I would. You don’t know how much I regret it, Eden. I–”

It’s my turn to shush him with a finger to his lips.  “Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

He nods.

“It will never happen again. You have my word.”

“I believe you, Cole.”

And I do.  This is the man I thought him to be.  This is the man I had hoped was underneath the broken and brooding man on the beach and across the street.  This is a man that could change everything for me.

We stand in silence, practically nose to nose, for at least two full minutes.  I realize as I stare up into his ocean blue eyes that I could drown in them and die a happy woman.

When his gaze flickers down to my lips, I wet them automatically, every part of me yearning for his kiss.  “I don’t have anything to give you, Eden.  I’m broken.  More than I ever thought I could be.  But you can have what’s left of me.  If you want it.  You can have what little I have to give.”

“That’s all I want, Cole.  That’s all I want.”

SEVENTEEN

Cole

OUR EYES ARE still locked as I tilt my head and draw closer to her.  I watch her lids flutter shut just before mine, before my lips meet hers.  When they do, it takes every ounce of my willpower not to go crazy.  The taste of her…sweet Jesus!  It’s the most delicious thing that has ever touched my tongue.  As I sweep along the inside of her mouth, I have to fight harder and harder to go slow.  Every fiber, every nerve, every muscle wants to strip her down and ravage her.  Lick every surface, test every opening, taste every juice.

I can’t remember wanting something this badly.  Not once.  Everything about her sings to me.  Her eyes, her smile, her laugh, her body.  I want to lose myself in her. And I am.  I’m not thinking of anything other than Eden right now.  And the reprieve from my usual pain is almost overwhelming.

I feel her hands come tentatively to rest on my chest.  My pecs flex in response to her cool touch.  I run my fingers into her silky hair and hold her head still as I dive deeper into her mouth, wishing I was already inside her.

When her palms trail from my chest down to my stomach, my cock fills with blood so fast it’s almost painful. I groan into her mouth and she digs in with her fingernails.

I jerk my head up, feeling like I’m about to lose control. “Eden, you can’t do things like that.”

“Things like what?” she asks, her eyes wide and innocent, yet dark and sexy.

“Touch me like that. It’s…it’s been a long time.”

I feel the huff of her breath against my chin as she stretches up to brush her mouth against mine. “It has for me, too.”

She runs her hands around my waist and presses her lips to my throat.  I feel the plush mounds of her breasts rubbing against me and I grit my teeth to keep from doing something stupid.  I feel like a bomb, getting ready to explode and take out a damn city block.

“Eden, I’m serious.”

“I am, too.  I don’t want you to hold back with me.”

“But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

“I-I don’t have any protection. I wasn’t planning to…”

“I haven’t been with anybody in a long time. I’m clean,” she tells me.

“Me, too.  It’s been a while.”

“And I have an IUD.”

That one short sentence…holy God!  I feel it like a punch to the gut. Just the thought of being inside her slick heat with nothing between us, just the idea of shooting come way up inside her, of spilling every last ounce of myself into her, is nearly my undoing.

“Eden, give me this one time and I’ll make it up to you.  I promise.  Next time, I’ll go slow.  But tonight…”

I barely hear her breathy Okay before I let go.  She said not to hold back, but if she hadn’t, after telling me that she has an IUD, I probably would’ve had to leave and come back later.  It has to be all or nothing.   Those are my only two speeds right now.

I wind my arms around her and crush her to me from her lips to her knees.  I feel every softly rounded contour of her body against mine as I lay her down on the rug in front of the fire.  I think to myself that I’ll take my time and enjoy every inch of her after this.  But right now, I have to get inside her.

I reach for the button and zipper of her jeans and flick them open quickly.  Our tongues tangle in the most delicious way and I can feel her heat all the way through the denim of my own pants.  My cock is throbbing for her. My whole being is concentrated on her–the way she smells, the way she tastes, the way she feels underneath me.

I pull away just long enough to drag her jeans and panties down her legs.  I lean back to look at her, the skin between her spread legs glistening, all pink and wet, in the firelight.  My mouth waters reflexively and I bend to run my tongue into her crease.

I only meant to have a quick taste, just because wondering about it has been driving me nuts, but my throbbing dick gets put on hold the instant her flavor hits my tongue.

She’s as sweet here as she is inside her mouth.  Sweet and soft and silky.  For a few seconds, I forget everything except how she tastes.  She’s like a mind-altering drug.  An aphrodisiac. Intoxicating.  Addictive.  Suddenly driven to taste more, to taste all that she has to give, I find myself sliding my hands under her, gripping her plump ass and holding her to my mouth, like I’m drinking from a cup of sugar water.

I slip one thumb inside her, the wetness of her coating it and making my cock jump against my zipper.  I pump it into her, anxious to feel more, taste more, take more.  I push her legs wide and eat, like a starving man might eat.

I set her hips down and run two fingers up inside her, feeling the tight clench of her body.  I growl against her as I reach for my own zipper, knowing that if I don’t get into her now, something embarrassing might happen.

With my cock out, I stretch out full length on Eden, taking her lips in a kiss that sets my blood on fire.  I wedge my hips between her spread legs and cage her upper body with my forearms to take some of my weight off her.  I hear her sharp breathing and I tremble with the effort it takes not to slam my body into hers.

The head of my dick finds her entrance with an unerring precision, like I’ve been here before. Or maybe that I’m meant to be here. Like I know her body already.

I slip in a couple of inches and meet resistance as her body stretches to accommodate me.  “Oh God, Eden.  You’re so tight.  So tight…”

At this point, I don’t know how I’m holding out. I must be stronger than I thought.  And it’s a good thing, or else I might not have felt her hands grabbing at my shoulders.  Because they aren’t holding me to her. They’re pushing me away.

That’s when I realize that the little sounds she’s making aren’t sounds of pleasure anymore. They’re sounds of fear.

I jerk away from her like she burned me, memories of her reaction last night rushing back, all too clear.

I lift my head to look down at Eden.  Her eyes are wide and afraid, full of tears.  She’s staring at me like I’m a stranger and she’s stiff as a board beneath me.

“Eden, did I hurt you? God, I’m so sorry.”

Her breathing is erratic and her voice trembles when she answers.  “Y-you didn’t.  I-I’m sorry, Cole. I just… I can’t do this. Not yet. I…I don’t…”  She starts to cry, soft sobs that rip through my heart.  What did I do?

“I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I…I…God, I’m such an asshole!”

When I lever myself completely off her, she scoots away, drawing her legs up to her chest protectively.  “Can you go?  Cole, please.  We can talk tomorrow, but right now…just please.  Please go.”

“Of course,” I tell her.  What else would I say? I feel like shit and I don’t even know what I did. That’s arguably the worst part.  “Eden, I–”

“It’s not you, it’s me, Cole.”

I straighten my clothes and roll to my feet, reaching to take my jacket form the chair.  I can’t take my eyes off her.  Something about the fear in her, the vulnerability that I feel blowing off her like cold air, slices through me.  Through skin and muscle and bone.  And goes right into my heart.

More than anything, I want to pull her into my arms and hold her, to tell her that whatever it is, it’ll be okay.  But she doesn’t want that. I can see it in the white of her knuckles, in the stiffness of her back.  In the tightness of her face.  She’s freaked out and she just wants me out of here.

As I start past her, I pause.  I want to bend down and kiss her so that this can end on a good note, but I don’t. I get the feeling nothing can salvage this night. I just don’t know why.

She doesn’t say another word to me as I go to leave, not even as I close the door behind me.