Rafe (The Wounded Sons Book 4)

by Leah Sharelle

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t like dirty cars—”

  “No,” I interrupted her, “why do you like it sitting there? How did you know I was thinking exactly that same thing?” I rasped out, turning in the seat to look at her.

  “I … I don’t know really. There is a lot I don’t understand about us Rafe, but for some reason, I know what you are thinking at a precise moment, and other times I have absolutely no clue what is going on up here with you.” Tapping her temple with one finger, she looked confused and a little annoyed.

  Well, right back at ya, Bunny.

  Our connection could be explained because of the night I helped save her, but I knew that was only a small piece of the confusing puzzle. Peyton and I had more to our bond, whether it was right or not. I feared that she was my one, that kismet brought us together, and if that was the case, then fuck, I was in trouble. How did the right girl turn up too late? Why didn’t I meet her before my life turned into a clusterfuck?

  I was being punished, that had to be it. God, or whoever was in charge, sent Peyton to me in order to torment me. To dangle her in my face because someone in the universe wanted to see me suffer even more than I already was already.

  I stared at the woman who had become like a lifeline to me and really looked at her. Parts of her hair were left blonde with streaks of pastel pink expertly framing her beautiful face. Her hair was long, normally dead straight all the way down her back, except today she’d curled the long tresses, curls of blonde and pink and some a combination of both colours. Her lips were the perfect cupid bow shape, and the natural pink tint begged me to taste them, another torment to deal with as well. Her nose was perfectly straight with the slightest upturn at the tip, and each cheek had a dimple in the middle, but it was her eyes that made her beautiful features so unique.

  “You’re staring at my eyes again, aren’t you?” Peyton asked me, breaking the silence between us.

  “Yep,” I replied easily. Not caring that I got caught gawking at her … again.

  “They are just eyes, Rafe, and my hair is a stranger colour than my eyes.”

  “Your hair is pink, Bunny, nothing strange about that. Your eyes, on the other hand, are amber in the middle with a vibrant green ring around the outside and flecks of gold and yellow around the iris. Trust me, honey, your eyes are unique.”

  “And they also are the reason the kids called me wolfie all through my childhood.” Her huff and eye roll gave me the indication she didn’t like her eyes all that much.

  “Got a lot of teasing, hey?”

  “You could say that. I got the idea to dye my hair one time after a particularly bad day of teasing. The first time I attempted to colour my hair, it was an absolute disaster. Instead of fuchsia, it came out more like the colour of beetroot, but it worked. Kids stopped picking on my eyes and concentrated on what I was doing with my hair. I got the hang of the whole dying process and changed my colour once a week.” Peyton reached over the console to my side of the car and snagged her handbag that was next to my leg. “Then it became a game of what colour would Peyton come to school with this week, and pretty soon, my eyes were not all that interesting after all.” Shrugging, she opened the door and slipped gracefully out.

  Opening my door, I copied Peyton and got out of the car.

  “So you did it deliberately to stop kids pestering you about your eyes?” Leaning my arms on the roof of the car, I waited for Peyton to reply.

  “Sure did, what you call unique, the kids at my school called spooky. Having the rarest eye colour isn’t all it is cracked up to be, Rafe. Kids can be cruel.” Her amber eyes flared with what must be hard memories for her to relive. I didn’t want to be the reason for any kind of sadness for her, so instead of pursuing the conversation, I wrapped my knuckles on the roof.

  “How about that offer to make me something to eat?” Glad I did when a glint of light replaced the touch of sadness.

  “I hope you are in the mood for something sweet, Rafe, because I know I am,” Peyton announced, as she slung her handbag on her shoulder while she walked away from the car towards the back door, her two Huskies, Alaska and Arctic running up to greet her with their usual enthusiasm. I watched Peyton walk off like the pervert I am, her round, fleshy arse bouncing in the tight workout pants she favoured when she wasn’t dressed in her vet nurse scrubs. Fighting with my cock, I stayed frozen in place against the car, willing my hard-on to subside so I could follow Peyton into the house without scaring the fuck out of her.

  What’s another stiff dick, god knows, just thinking about her causes the monster in my pants to spring to life.

  Whatever this attraction is between us, it couldn’t go anywhere, not with the complication that was my life.

  Fuck it.

  ***

  Parking Peyton’s ute in the visitors car park, I turned off the engine, and sat back in the seat and stared out the front windscreen.

  I hated doing this–coming here after every deployment like clockwork for the last three years. Nothing changed outside of the building nor inside, but yet I still travelled to Bendigo to fulfill my responsibilities. Responsibilities not thrusted upon me, rather something I forced onto myself.

  Sighing loudly, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, stalling myself from getting out of the car and taking the long walk up the path that would lead me to my torment.

  “Why the fuck are you doing this to yourself?” I asked out loud, taking in a steading inhale of air, only to be hit with the faint scent of Peyton. Her floral scent surrounded me, and I couldn’t help turning my face to the side of the leather seat, placing my nose into the soft seat, and breathing in deeply.

  Fuck!

  That smell was imprinted into my senses, soft and feminine and uniquely Peyton. I called upon that smell more than I cared to admit, even in the privacy of the car’s cab. It was funny that I couldn’t remember the smell of Angie’s expensive as fuck perfume, but I could recall everything about the body lotion Peyton used every day. It was a scent that carried me through dark and lonely nights. Even in the chaos of war, when bullets were pinging at me from the enemy, Peyton was with me.

  “Fuck my life,” I growled, snatching the keys out of the ignition. “Time to face what I did.” The familiar thread of dread clawed at my throat as I walked with purpose up the path, every step I fought the urge to run back to the ute and speed back to Ballarat. Back to Peyton. Last night had been pretty close to brilliant. Peyton made us a meal of chicken fettuccine with the creamiest sauce imaginable, as well as a dessert of marshmallow and chocolate decadence. Then we settled in to watch two movies, Peyton was a fan of action flicks. She was all about the car chases and buildings blowing up, which suited me just fine. She picked ones where the main characters had love interests, so I got the best of both worlds. Imagining kissing Peyton the whole time, though, meant I had to keep a cushion over my lap, her feet sitting on top of it tempting me. I could spend every single night home just like that, with Peyton.

  “It is a nice day out there,” I said, standing at the large window in the huge luxurious room, looking anywhere but at the bed in the middle of the room.

  “The roses outside your window are pretty spectacular, and I reckon they have gotten even bigger since my last visit.” Again as I spoke I kept my back to the room. Even with the sound of the door opening, I didn’t make an attempt to turn around.

  “Hi Rafe, fancy seeing you here,” the cheerful voice of Nicole announced.

  “Hey Nic, how are you doing? How is that husband of yours?”

  “Wonderful as always,” Nicole answered immediately, I didn’t have to be looking at her to know she was smiling. I met Nicole when she was newly engaged, even attended her wedding, I knew her that well.

  “Tell him I said hi, next time he is Ballarat get him to give me a call, yeah. If I am in town, we can meet up for a beer.”

  “Louis will love that, thanks, Rafe.”

  Keep talking Nicole, I urged her sile
ntly, keep talking, so there is another sound in the room other than that fucking machine.

  “Rafe.” Nicole’s voice was gentle, but the meaning behind that one word meant more than just my name.

  “I can’t look, Nicole, it is too hard. It’s getting too hard,” I rasped, placing my palms on the window ledge, my forehead falling to the cold glass.

  “Someone needs to make a decision, Rafe. This isn’t a way for anyone to live,”

  “I don’t have that right anymore, Nic.”

  “And yet here you are, Rafe. Why is that, do you think?”

  My chin dropped to my chest. I felt like the weight of the world was balancing on my shoulders with that one question.

  The army taught me discipline, strength of character, and how to kill, amongst other skills. It also taught me to take responsibility for my actions. Being here was the ultimate description of that.

  Resignedly I turned around to face the young nurse, my eyes trained on her and not the woman in the bed.

  “Because it was my fault. I may not have been with her when she hit that tree, Nicole, but the blame lays squarely on my shoulders.”

  “Her parents might think that, Rafe, but let me assure you no one here does. Angie had been drinking that night, and she willingly drank herself into a stupor, she chose to drive home well over the legal limit. You weren’t even in the country when it happened.” The same old argument was thrown at me, but just like every other time, I chose to ignore the logic.

  “Our divorce papers were on the passenger seat, and she was drunk because I signed the decree to end our marriage.” Tearing my gaze from Nicole, I finally allowed myself to look upon the small figure in the middle of the queen-size bed. Nothing but the best, I thought bitterly.

  “Angie might have asked for the divorce at first, but she begged me not to sign the papers. I don’t know how many times I argued with her that our marriage was over. After one fight too many, I finally yelled at her that I didn’t love her anymore.” Pausing, I took two steps towards the bed. “She cried through the phone, pleading for me to take it back, but I couldn’t. She killed my feelings for her, and I told her as much.”

  “Rafe, you told me this before. You were in the middle of a war zone. Discussing marriage issues when the two people involved are thousands of kilometres apart isn’t exactly the best idea.”

  “It was cruel of me Nic, and I said some shit to her I had no right to say. If I had just kept my mouth shut, she might not have gone to the club that night.”

  “But she did Rafe, Angie made that decision, not you. Her parents keep her here, and while I understand the love they have for their daughter, this,” Nicole swept her arms at the bed, “is just a waste of time and money, and damned unfair to you.”

  “Three years and not a sign of life from her, Rafe. Angie is brain dead, and I fear if this goes on any longer, you are going to suffer a lot worse than your ex-wife.”

  Tearing my eyes from Angie’s lifeless form, I frowned at the private nurse.

  “Explain,” I clipped.

  “She is clinically dead, Rafe, there isn’t anything anyone can do for her, but your heart is going to head in the same way if you continue this quest to take the blame for something you had no control over.”

  Using all my training, I schooled my features and said nothing, something told me Nicole wasn’t finished.

  “It’s time to get her parents to sign the forms and turn off the machine that is keeping her artificially alive. Turn it off so you can start living again.”

  The rebuttal was on the tip of my tongue, but Nicole sliced her hand through the air, stopping me.

  “Just think about it Rafe, please. This isn’t fair to Angie either, she is in limbo just as much as you are.” With one pointed look at my ex-wife, Nicole slipped out of the room just as quietly as she came, but she left me with the impact a bullet made tearing through flesh.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  PEYTON

  “Pey, can you grab Millie off the floor before she faceplants in the cat food again,” Addy shouted from her position near the dog kennels. Whipping my head around in the direction of the cat area to see my boss’ six-month-old daughter indeed already face first in the bowl of dry cat food.

  “Um, too late,” I grumbled in a low voice rushing over to save the little girl from another round of cat food being plucked out of her mouth by her tired mother.

  “Mills, you are going to give your mother grey hairs before nature does,” I cooed at the baby as I lifted her chubby body into my arms, tiny pieces of fish flavoured biscuits hitting the floor.

  “You are the devil incarnate, aren’t you pretty girl?” Lifting her into my arms, I blew raspberries on her plump belly, her giggles lighting me up inside despite my worry over not hearing from Rafe since he left for … wherever he went early this morning.

  Our early morning together was so different from the night before. Then he had been relaxed and comfortable around me; we watched movies and ate sweet treats while he idly massaged and rubbed my feet. There had not been much in the way of cuddling like we usually did, but it was a nice and cosy time. Rafe and Peyton time.

  Then he woke at the crack of dawn, and suddenly he put his mask up. Both making awkward small talk while I made him a hot breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, cooked tomato and half a loaf of toasted bread. It was funny how fast I learned Rafe’s favourite foods, movies and his general likes and dislikes. For example, I knew he liked his towels to be dried on the line and not in the dryer and that he preferred a little milk with his coffee instead of cappuccino style. Rafe had a serious aversion to coffee made with milk and not water-based.

  Then he left, taking my car at my insistence. I liked having his car in my driveway. It gave me the illusion that there was something more between us than friendship.

  “Oh my god, get a life, Peyton,” I muttered, annoyed at myself for my obvious obsession with the sexy but complex commando.

  “Eeeeeee,” little Millie squealed suddenly, reaching out and grabbing a tiny fist of my hair, then promptly tried to stuff it in her mouth.

  “Yes, baby girl, my hair is a pretty colour but don’t mistake it for fairy floss darlin’,” I laughed at her, doing my best to untangle my hair from her chubby hand while holding her securely.

  “Quit your squirming, munchkin. I don’t think your daddy will be happy if I drop you.”

  “You won’t drop her, Peyton,” a deep voice said from the door of the animal room.

  “Oh hey, Grill, um Marshall.” Looking over my shoulder to see the man I was just referring to walk in.

  “I don’t mind which name you call me, really either is fine. Need some help?” he asked, wriggling his eyebrows at his daughter.

  “Please, she has quite the grip,” I replied, ruefully waiting for Grill to take hold of his daughter properly before using both hands to pry my hair from Millie’s tight grip.

  “No wonder my wife is so happy when I get home from deployment. Miss Millie is a handful, but we wouldn’t have her any other way.” The way Grill looked at his daughter just about brought tears to my eyes. Marshall ‘Grill’ Webber was the type of person you didn’t judge by his appearance.

  Big and angry looking, and if you didn’t know him and had no clue he was just a big teddy bear, you would walk across the street to avoid walking past him. Since he and Addy found each other after what they both thought would be just a one-night stand and instead resulted in little Millie, they had found their very happy ending. Both Grill and Addy welcomed me into not only their little family but also the Wounded Souls’ family. The large bunch of alpha bikers and their wives had been nothing but supportive, and I loved them, but it was my relationship with Rafe, as complicated as it was, that made me thankful for the inclusion into the fold.

  Pulling a few strands of hair out of Millie’s fist, I rubbed a knuckle down her chubby cheek. “There, all gone, munchkin.”

  “You’re good with her.” Grill noticed. “Do you have nephew
s or nieces?”

  “No.” My voice came out barely over a whisper, thanks to the lump in my throat. It happened whenever I was anywhere near Millie, or when I thought about a particular time in my life, I wished like hell I had back. To have a do-over, anything to change the course of my life, starting with the worst night when I lost everything.

  “Peyton, I’m sorry if I overstepped with my question,” Grill apologised quickly, obviously seeing the distress on my face. “It’s just that this isn’t the first time I have noticed how good you are with Mills.”

  Annoyed at myself for falling back into my old familiar pattern of getting lost in my grief, I conjured up a smile and some courage. Not talking about my past had become a habit for me, one I needed to break.

  “No, Grill, it’s fine. You weren’t over-stepping. I don’t like to talk about my past, but I think it’s time I did.” Tears pricked the backs of my eyes and I closed them, and in my mind, I saw my little boy, smelt his sweet baby scent as if he was here in the room with me.

  “Um, do you want Addy? She is much better at this kind of thing,” Grill stammered, looking very uncomfortable all of a sudden, not that I could blame him. The amount of times Addy burst into tears during her pregnancy scared me, so I could only imagine what it did to her big, bad soldier.

  Oh god, I miss Rafe.

  Just thinking about our farewell this morning brought more tears to my eyes, no longer threatening to spill but spilling. Fat tears dripped down my cheeks and small, hiccupping sobs, escaping my lips.

  Where was he? Where did he go every time he left Ballarat? Why was everything with him such a goddamned secret?

  “Fuck Peyton, don’t cry please, for the love of God, don’t cry,” Grill pleaded, looking around the empty animal room desperately. Little Millie was in his arms laughing every time her father swung her this way, then that as he looked for a way to escape my sudden breakdown, her loud gleeful giggles bringing her mother running.