The Time in Between

by Kristen Ashley

  “I broke her,” Coert said low. “I did this. All of it. From the beginning. And I’ve known it. From the beginning. When she stops doing what her mother taught her to do, blaming herself for everything that happens, and she realizes that this isn’t on her, I don’t know how that’s gonna go. It’s something I’ve been avoiding since she showed here in Maine and it doesn’t have to be said it’s something I avoided for eighteen years. But it’s gotta stop. And I’m gonna stop it. What goes from there . . .” It took him a beat to be able to finish. “Goes from there.”

  “You can’t make more of a mess,” Moreland warned.

  “I’m in love with her.”

  Moreland blinked again, this time with his chin jerking back in his throat.

  Coert kept talking.

  “I’ve been in love with her since she poured beer all over the yard the first time she looked in my eyes. She’s my world. She’s been my world for eighteen years even when she wasn’t close to being part of that world. And it was me. It was all on me. I kept her in something that was wrong and dangerous and made her think she was falling in love with a criminal. She was on the right path and it was me who jerked her off. I loved her but I lied to her with practically every word out of my mouth, and I played her to get what I needed. Then I got my pride stung and I was too fuckin’ young and too fuckin’ destroyed by all I’d done to do anything but lay that square on her shoulders. So this is my mess, Moreland, and I’ve lived with that for eighteen years, and I’ve lived with knowin’ I made a mess of Cady for all that time too. Now I gotta go in there facing the very real possibility that just seein’ me is gonna make more of a mess. But you and your family have spent all that time pickin’ up the pieces so no matter what happens from here, the only way I’ll go is knowin’ you got this if it turns even more to shit.”

  “She’s never stopped loving you,” Moreland told him quietly.

  “You say that thinkin’ it makes it better, but I fucked up her entire life,” Coert clipped, leaning forward but then pulling back, pulling himself together, taking everything he had to do it, because he was close to flying apart and right now he could not fall apart. “She told me she still loved me days ago and it only made it worse.”

  “You can salvage this.”

  “Maybe, but should I?” Coert fired back.

  “Yes.”

  He said it instantly and he said it straight, and when he did, that was when Coert took a step back like he’d suffered a blow.

  “She’s my little sister and I want her to have what she wants and what she wants is you,” Moreland declared.

  “Then get your family outta that lighthouse,” Coert growled.

  Moreland stared at him.

  Then he smiled.

  Then he said, “I’m in a black rental Denali SUV. Think you know the way, but you’re right. It’s best I lead.”

  Coert walked right to the door and opened it.

  Moreland followed him but stopped and looked him again in the eyes.

  “My wife Kath said if you two quit squabbling, you’d jump each other’s bones. Dad said the second you got your head out of your ass and came back, Cady would be gone in a flash so we’d have to gird our loins to hold on so we didn’t lose her. But just to say, the whole family’s here for Christmas so do us a favor. Cady cooks a mean bird and the kids are looking forward to it. She won’t be able to lift it if she’s exhausted by a reunion sex-a-thon.”

  So that explained the “sister” Kath, and the other wives were the other two “sisters” and the entire Moreland clan “the family” coming out for Christmas.

  He loved Cady had that.

  Still.

  “How about I salvage this and we joke about it in, I don’t know, say fifteen years?” Coert suggested.

  “Maybe a good call,” Pat muttered, lips curling up, and then he walked out the opened door.

  Coert closed it, locked it, went into the living room, turned out the Christmas tree lights and hustled to the garage, not even grabbing his jacket.

  He got in his truck, hit the garage door opener, pulled out and got behind the black Denali that was idling in his road.

  In all his years to come, looking back at that ride from his house to the lighthouse, he’d never remember a second of it. He gave Cady shit for driving emotional but he was lucky he had those Denali taillights to focus on, because Lord knew with all the shit infesting his head if he’d have made it.

  But he made it and Moreland must have had a remote to the gate because he coasted right through.

  Coert followed him.

  He’d been right, the Christmas lights were amazing.

  And it was clear the “whole family” was a big one because there were two more Denali SUVs crowding the space around her two-car garage, both doors open but only Cady’s Jag was parked inside one bay.

  Coert parked and Moreland swung out as Coert did the same.

  He followed him to the covered walk that led to the door to the lighthouse on that side.

  Moreland stopped and Coert stopped with him.

  “Ready?” Moreland asked.

  “No,” Coert answered.

  “Dad liked you for her.”

  Coert suffered that blow too with a miracle of no movement.

  “He lived long, the last years of his life not the greatest. I hope we made them not as bad as they could have been. I know Cady did. But I’d put money on the fact that he left this world with only two regrets. Giving in to his wife, planting Katy in my mother and then losing them both, and that he didn’t live to see this.”

  And with nothing further, Moreland opened the door and moved through.

  Coert heard Midnight bark, not a warning, a welcome.

  He also heard someone shout, “Hey, Dad! Where you been?”

  But as he moved in, all he saw was Cady in the kitchen with two other women and a kid. She was doing something at the island, and the minute she turned her head and saw him, she froze.

  So he froze two steps in from the door.

  “Who’s that?” A child.

  “Everyone, jackets on, we’re going into town for dinner.” Moreland.

  “But Auntie Cady’s making spaghetti pie!” Another child.

  “What’s goin’ on, Pat?” A man.

  “Right! Dinner in town! Everybody get suited up!” A woman.

  “What’ve you done, Pat?” Another man.

  “Let’s go. Now.” Moreland.

  “I think—” Another woman.

  “Now.” Moreland.

  “Holy cow.” And another woman.

  “Who’s that guy?” A young woman in a loud whisper.

  “Jackets. Now!” Moreland’s voice was rising. “Let’s go.”

  “Yeesh, Uncle Pat’s freaking out.” A young man.

  Midnight woofed.

  “Come on. Come on. Let’s go. Mike, Daly, got your keys?” The first woman.

  “This goes bad, bud, we’re having a family meeting.” A man, growling.

  Coert heard it, felt the movement, commotion, footfalls running upstairs and voices encouraging others to get jackets and move out, footfalls down the stairs.

  It seemed it took years for it all to quiet down, for the brushes of people to stop moving past him to get out the door, for the door to close.

  And all that time he and Cady just stared at each other.

  When the door closed he said gently, “Is the stove on, baby?”

  Woodenly, she nodded.

  “Turn it off, Cady,” he ordered.

  Her body jolted but she forced it to move stiffly to the stove.

  She turned knobs.

  Then she turned to him.

  “Come here,” he urged quietly.

  Slowly, one foot in front of the other, her eyes to his, she moved his way.

  Midnight moved to her and crowded her but Cady didn’t stop until she was two feet away.

  Coert looked into emerald eyes.

  Christ, how did he start?

  Chr
ist, how did he fix something that he broke before he’d even started it?

  “I should have let you explain. I should have explained myself what—”

  He didn’t say any more.

  She threw herself at him.

  Grabbing his head on either side, burrowing into him, fucking climbing him, she did everything she could to wrap her arms around his head and pull it down to hers.

  Their mouths collided and hers was already open, her tongue darting out.

  And he tasted her.

  Cinnamon and toffee and moonlight and warmth and Cady.

  And for the first time in eighteen years, he hit home.

  She shuffled him back, her movements jerky, desperate.

  He didn’t make her work for it and shifted when she turned him.

  He also fell when she pushed into him. The backs of his legs hitting the arm of the couch, they went down, Coert on his back, Cady on top of him.

  She was hungry for him, fucking starving, kissing him, her hands moving on him, shoving up his sweater to dive under and get to the skin of his stomach, his chest.

  Midnight woofed and snuffled them with her nose.

  They both ignored her, because Coert was right there with Cady, hands to her ass, up her sweater, along the skin at her sides, her ribs.

  She sat up abruptly, straddling him, tore her sweater over her head. Her hair flying, she threw it aside, her hands going immediately to his sweater and yanking it up.

  He did a half-curl to lift his back off the couch, his arms over his head. She tugged his sweater to his forearms and he pulled it off from there, tossing it away.

  Hands back to her, she was hands and mouth back to him, fingers trailing, nails scratching, biting, licking, feeding from him.

  God, it was beautiful.

  It was Cady.

  Coert drove a hand in her hair, pulled back, arm around her waist hauling her up his body. He kept his fingers in her hair as he took his arm from around her, ripped down a cup of her bra, lifted his head and sucked her nipple hard in his mouth.

  God, her taste, her moan, the way she was grinding herself into his stomach.

  All Cady.

  His cock was hard and chafing against his fly, and that and Cady and getting more of her were all that filled his thoughts when she suddenly tore away, took her feet at the side of the couch but only to put her hands to her belt to undo it.

  He watched her, her face flushed, her eyes dilated, locked to him, so fucking beautiful in her want, and he slid a hand under him, in his back pocket, pulling out his wallet.

  A growl surged from his throat when she bent to yank her jeans and panties down her legs, exposing herself to him. She kicked them off and leaned over him, frenzied as she worked his belt.

  He slid the condom out of his wallet then tossed the wallet aside.

  She unbuttoned his jeans then slid down the zipper.

  He dug his heels in to lift his hips off the couch as she wrenched his jeans and shorts down his hips, thrilled beyond reason when she’d freed his hard, aching cock from its confines.

  She swung over him, her eyes again glued to Coert’s.

  His eyes to hers, he’d barely rolled the condom on before she was grabbing hold of his dick. She positioned it with one hand, leaned over him, the fingers of her other hand curling around his neck.

  He put both hands to her hips when she found his head.

  And then he had her.

  She pulsed down, her head flying back, filling herself with him.

  Giving him her, buried inside her, Cady all he could see, all he could feel, his entire focus, finally again his world.

  “Cady,” he grunted.

  She looked to him and moved, hard, slamming down on him, her hand at his neck spasming, her pussy spasming, harsh breaths escaping parted lips.

  He raced both his hands up her back to her head, holding it at the sides, holding her steady, holding her eyes, not about to lose those eyes, not about to lose her.

  She rode him fast, frantic, reckless.

  He yanked her face closer to his and saw it race up in her.

  “Cady,” he whispered.

  Her head shot back as she let out a soft cry.

  He pulled it forward, resting her forehead on his and holding her close as she panted and whimpered her orgasm against his lips, her hips still slamming into his.

  When she started to lose it, the beauty drifting away, he rolled her to her back and took over.

  Too far gone for her—the feel of her, having her under him again—to go gentle, he rode her rough and she held on. Both her arms circling his head again, she shoved his face in her neck. Her legs rounding his back, cinching tight, lifting her hips to give him more, he thrust into her, feeling each one push her breath out into his neck until he groaned into hers as he bucked into her body and came really fucking hard for his Cady.

  He let it happen, it was fantastic, but it was so enormous he feared he’d hurt her. So he pushed back at it so he could gentle his movements and glide inside her as his orgasm slipped through him until he could settle in deep.

  Finally again buried inside the only place he was ever supposed to be.

  After he was done coming, the room didn’t come back, the lighthouse, her dog, Magdalene, anything.

  It was just Cady and him and that couch. That was all Coert could take. That was all he wanted. That was all he’d wanted for years.

  And there they were.

  They had it.

  He brushed her neck with his nose, smelling hints of her perfume that were clean and earthy but also mellow and floral and it was so totally her, different than the scent she wore back in the day, it felt like a gift. Having it be so her, this her, after having her and feeling her soft body under him, his fingers in her hair, her pussy sleek and tight around his cock.

  That was it felt like a gift until suddenly she made a strange noise, forced her hands between them and shoved up hard.

  Not prepared for that, Coert lifted up farther, thinking his weight was too much, and still unprepared, she slithered out from under him, his cock lost her, and he was losing the rest of her.

  He made a grab to hook her at the waist but was too late and she was too fraught. Practically falling over the side of the couch, she escaped him and he’d just gotten up on a forearm to turn to her, follow her out of the couch, find out what the fuck was going on, but he froze when he saw her awkwardly snatching up the clothes on the floor, holding them to her body.

  And his heart felt like it exploded when her tortured eyes hit his.

  “I’m sorry.” The words were dripping shame and embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

  She then took off running to the stairs and up them.

  Midnight followed to the foot of the steps, ran back to Coert, then changed directions and raced cumbersomely up the stairs after her momma.

  “Fuck,” Coert bit out, pushed up from the couch, saw a door under the stairs and hoped it led to a toilet.

  He went there and entered the smallest half bath he’d ever been in, but it was still freaking nice.

  He didn’t take the time to admire it.

  He pulled off the condom, flushed it, rinsed his hands and didn’t bother drying them, closing the door to the bathroom or even doing up his jeans as he ran out and took the steps two at a time, holding his pants together at the fly.

  He hit a room that had a big circular couch in it, some side tables with a curved TV that was still on, affixed to the wall.

  But no Cady.

  So he sprinted up the next winding set of stairs and came right into the smallest bedroom he’d ever seen that was dominated by a bed, but it was amazing the economy of space and the magic brought to it with fairy lights under sheers draped over the bed on the ceiling, and compact furniture that was all gorgeous but all useful.

  He did not admire that either because Cady was at the foot of the bed and had her panties up, the other clothes in a pile in the minimal floor space at her feet, but she was h
olding his sweater.

  Slowly her eyes came to him.

  “I took your sweater,” she whispered like she’d just admitted committing murder.

  “Cady,” he said carefully.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” she kept whispering.

  “What?” he asked softly.

  “Done that. That. To you. Touched you. Made you . . . made you . . . I shouldn’t have touched you like that.”

  Was she insane?

  “Cady, honey, think. I was right there with you all the way.”

  Her eyes were on him but he could tell she wasn’t looking at him but was somewhere else, somewhere very not good, when she murmured, “I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

  “Look at me, honey,” he urged.

  She didn’t look at him.

  “Cady,” he said, taking a step toward her.

  Her eyes focused on him.

  And her words broke when she said, “I’m so sorry.”

  Okay.

  Done.

  He had to go all of two feet but he went there, scooped her up, turned and planted his ass on the end of her bed with her held in a tight ball in his lap against his chest.

  “Stop that,” he growled into her hair. “I was right there with you every step of the way.”

  “You . . . you’re . . . the investigator. His reports. Patrick’s reports. I read them. I know how you got your daughter.”

  A surprise but not a surprise.

  “This was not that,” he said firmly. “That wasn’t even what you’re thinking.”

  “You . . . you . . . women haven’t done right by you.”

  He put hands to either side of her head and forced her to look at him.

  “Stop it,” he bit out.

  “Coert—”

  “It was me.”

  She stared into his eyes.

  “Me, Cady. I did it. I broke us. It was me.”

  “You didn’t—”

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  Shit!

  Fuck!

  He felt it and he could no longer stop it.

  His body bucked and his voice cracked when it forced itself out.

  “It was all on me.”

  Gone was his Cady who was twisting shit in her head.

  Suddenly in his lap was Cady who was all about him.

  He could see it in her face.