He began texting the pictures to her, and she mulled him over: the man, the attorney, the mystery.
“What if you get a nosy girlfriend?” she asked, admittedly fishing for clues to his firm stance on relationships. “Aren’t you worried someone might see those?”
He shoved his phone into his pocket and stared out at the sunset. “Not going to happen.”
“Why? You’re hotter than any actor, a brilliant attorney, and a badass motorcycle-driving sex machine. Your female clients dress like they’d do you in the office. Why would you cut yourself off from finding the one?”
He chuckled. “A badass motorcycle-driving sex machine?”
The fact that he didn’t take the bait did not go unnoticed. “Not that I want to inflate your ego or anything, but yes.”
“Thanks, baby, but I’m not into relationships. I told you that.” He looked out at the sunset again.
She wasn’t giving up that easily. “Why?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he said casually.
“I want a relationship.” She leaned back on her palms and sighed. “I want it all. A job I enjoy, a man I enjoy. A life that’s stable and interesting, sexy and fun. I want to look at my husband and know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I’m the one he wants. The only one, no matter what.”
She sat up and crossed her legs, realizing she was telling him the honest to goodness truth without worrying about what he thought of her because of it and decided to spill it all. She plucked a few blades of grass, suddenly nervous at the prospect.
“I want a man who loves me enough to stand on the road with a boom box for all the world to see, or show up at my door with signs proclaiming his love.”
“John Cusack and Andrew Lincoln. You want romantic-movie love.”
“I can’t believe you know that. I didn’t peg you for a guy who watched romantic movies.”
“I’ve never seen them, but you’d have to live in a cave not to have heard about those scenes.”
He drew his knees up and rested his forearms on them, staring straight ahead, his brows knitted. Amanda had always been fascinated by the way his mind worked, and she recognized the way his eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened, and the air around him beat with deep concentration. He’d slipped into attorney mode. In the courtroom, this was the mask he wore in the moments between knowing his next step and changing it up to win a case. He called those contemplative silences his ascendance. Other attorneys stuck to their scripts. They planned strategies and rode them out. Mick was as fluid in the courtroom as he was in the bedroom, forgoing his plan to find the right path, the right angle, the right touch, to secure his win. Knowing that about him brought a smile, but that smile didn’t last long, because soon she’d no longer see him in the courtroom, the office, or at all.
“Movie romance is your thing,” he said absently, “and you should have it.”
“Before Ally met Heath, she used to tease me about wanting that. She said it wasn’t real, but now she believes in true love.”
“I didn’t know that about her.” He turned with a serious expression. “Why didn’t she believe in love?”
Amanda shrugged. “You know about her being hurt. One of my sad moments,” she reminded him. “That broke her, and I guess no one could heal that break until Heath.”
“Why do you think? Why Heath? He’s an awesome dude, but what was it about him?” His tone was reminiscent of an inquisition, and she wondered why he was so curious.
“I think Heath was just what she needed at that time of her life. He got her. Neither of them were into relationships, and somehow he made her feel safe and sexy and happy, and she made him feel…” It was one thing to share her own feelings, but she realized it wasn’t right to share Ally’s.
“I think when you click, when you find the one, you know it, and Ally knew it right away.” I’ve known for a very long time, but now I’m even more sure. And equally as sure that telling you so would be perilous.
He shifted his eyes away again, nodding as if he agreed.
“And you? Why don’t you see a relationship in your future?” She plucked a few more pieces of grass and shredded them.
He scoffed. “I’m with the old Ally. Love is a fantasy. That’s why they make movies about it, because real life isn’t like that.” He eyed her curiously. “For most people, anyway. I hope you find it.”
She was beginning to see a correlation between Mick and Ally’s previous beliefs, but she wasn’t sure why, and she wondered if he’d had his heart broken by a woman in the past. Although she wasn’t about to ask him. Instead, she debated his belief.
“My parents have been married forever, and I think they’re truly happy.”
“You know the divorce rates. Life, love, work. Everything’s transient. Everything changes.”
“But…” But what? I want you to want a relationship? That was the stupidest thing she could say, because people didn’t change. Only her sister and Heath were proof that they could, and according to Mick, everything changed. It was still a stupid thing to say, like poking a bear.
“How about your parents?” she asked. “Are they still together?”
“Not even close.” He kicked his legs out, crossed them, and leaned back on his hands. Worry lines crept across his forehead.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s better this way.”
“Why? Did they fight a lot?”
He sat up again, clearly agitated. She expected him to tell her he was done with this conversation.
“Not at first,” he admitted. “But life has a way of tearing people apart.”
She could tell by the tension in his jaw that he was reaching his limit, but she’d come this far. She wasn’t about to let it go without saying her piece.
“Sure it does, but you fight through it if you love each other. There’s always good with bad. That’s what makes a relationship, isn’t it? It can’t be good all the time. That’s the difference between love and infatuation. Love lasts. Infatuation is transient.”
**
MICK TRIED TO temper the frustration that followed thoughts of his youth, but his emotions were all over the place. He felt like a twig, perched to snap beneath the weight of a grizzly.
“You’re naive,” he said too roughly. “I never pegged you as naive.”
Amanda sat up straighter. “I’m not naive, and that’s not a very nice thing to say.”
“I’m not trying to be mean, Amanda. But you’ve lived a perfect life, with a family who adores you. Mom, Dad, and two perfect girls. Life isn’t like that for everyone.”
“We’re hardly the perfect family, but even so, people without perfect lives still fall in love. Look at Heath and Ally. Heath’s father was murdered. His mother beaten and blinded. That’s not perfect, and he loves Ally to the ends of the earth. I believe love can last, and I believe it can conquer anything, even if it sounds naive.”
He gritted his teeth against the truth, but it came out anyway. “And Heath’s parents? His mother lost the man she adored. Nothing lasts. We all die, and death changes those left behind.”
She inched closer when she should have been running in the opposite direction, looking at him with so much compassion he felt it surrounding him. His insides coiled tight, fighting against her efforts to get him to open up to her—and his heart warred for a chance at what he’d never had or wanted before.
“Did you lose someone you loved?” she asked.
Fuck. This was not something he wanted to talk about. He turned away, hoping she’d take the hint. She moved even closer, their bodies joined at the hip, thigh, and shoulder, but she said nothing. She didn’t have to. Compassion and worry rolled off of her and stroked over him like a caress. A cacophony of nature filled the silence as they lost themselves in the setting sun. Minutes passed, ten, twenty? He wasn’t sure how long, but it was enough time for him to realize she’d eased the pressure in his chest simply by remaining at his side.
He r
eached for her hand. It was so small and delicate he could hide it in his own. She was delicate, and yet she was stronger than he was, putting her heart on the line. She’d already given herself to him in so many ways, and now she was giving him even more, and in turn, she’d earned something he hadn’t known was up for grabs—his trust.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek. For the first time in his life, he wanted to share his past. He’d run from it for so long that he wasn’t even sure how to talk about it, but when he looked at Amanda, his heart knew.
“We lost our sister, Lorelei, to leukemia when she was eight.” He hadn’t said her name aloud in so many years, he wanted to cradle it in his arms and keep it safe. “I was fourteen.”
Amanda’s eyes dampened. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine…”
He cleared his throat to speak past the emotions clogging it. “I haven’t told many people that. Heath’s family knows because we grew up together, and the Daltons know. When Bridgette’s husband was killed, we all helped her through. But I haven’t shared it with anyone else.”
“Thank you for trusting me, and I’m sorry for Bridgette and Louie. I didn’t know she’d lost her husband.” She pressed her lips to his in a kiss so sweet and warm he wanted to climb inside it and hole up for the night. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t know what I want, but this feels good. Talking to you feels good. We never talk about her. None of us do.” Mick scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to regain control of his emotions. “Before we lost her, we were a big, loud, loving family. Family dinners, four hellion boys with a sister to protect. We knew who we were. Then Lorelei got sick, and it all changed so fast. She’d been tired for a while, but then she got worse. The flu, my parents thought. She went downhill quickly. She got really weak, bloody noses, pain. God, it was like she hurt all over. Then the diagnosis came, and chemo, more tests. One day she had this rash and my mom was taking her to a doctor, and it seemed like the next we were sitting vigil by her hospital bed. Then the lights went out.”
His chest constricted with each memory, but he continued revealing one after another, because as painful as it was to talk about, it was equally as freeing. He’d kept his secret, as though his sister’s cancer fed off of it, taking him down with her, which he felt like he deserved, so he’d continued feeding it year after year.
“We lost her,” he choked out. “And we each lost a piece of ourselves. My mother cried day and night. My father buried himself in work, and my brothers and I did what kids do when parents lose their grip. We turned that sadness inward, and it ate us up. We couldn’t talk about it, because we were afraid of our parents hearing or of crying—and we were what? Ten to fourteen? Not great ages for dealing with anything, especially tears. Better to man up and bury the pain.”
She squeezed his hand, bringing his eyes to hers again and drawing more of his past from the depths of his soul.
“One day I guess our parents could no longer stand the silence, and their relationship erupted. That was all it took for the rest of us to fall apart. We each handled it differently. Dylan’s anger only lasted a few weeks, but losing our sister changed him. He used to be the kid who could make anyone laugh. Carefree, everyone’s friend. He became colder, less trusting, raised some hell with Heath and his brothers; we all did. Carson wasn’t as bad as the rest of us. You know how even-keeled he is. He was careful not to get into too much trouble, and he holed up in his bedroom for a year. That was the year he learned to hack computers. And Brett?”
He shook his head, surprised at how much he was sharing and how it didn’t feel like he was ripping his guts out, as it had when he’d shared it with the Daltons.
“Brett was closest in age to Lorelei. She looked up to all of us, but we played different roles in her life, like siblings do. Lorelei had a calming effect on Brett. Afterward, he became surly, and as he got older, that surliness turned to rage.”
He realized Amanda had that same calming effect on him. Thinking about their connection, he turned away, taking in ribbons of purple and blue streaming across the sky, the remnants of the sun as it dipped behind the mountains. Amanda fed his emotions like the sun fed flowers, and he felt himself reaching for her more and more, craving her light.
“And you?” she asked.
“I’m the eldest. The protector. I got my brothers out of the house when my parents fought, slept with one ear open in case they needed me, and was there for them when they got in trouble. I had their fronts and their backs. Dragging their asses away from danger when they did something stupid, and as they got older, cleaning up the puke when they drank to numb the pain. When Brett needed to kick someone’s ass, I fought him. When Dylan skipped school, I hauled him to classes. When Carson seemed like he was disappearing altogether, I forced him back into life.” He shrugged. “And I’d do it all over again. For any one of them.”
“They’re lucky to have you. It’s no wonder you guys are so close.”
“It’s a wonder we made it to being respectable adults.” He smiled at the joke he and his brothers tossed around like a football.
“That’s why your parents divorced?”
He nodded. “It was a blessing and a curse. I remember a time when they loved each other, but it wasn’t enough. Their love turned venomous, and when I was sixteen it got worse. Not violent, but volatile. My brothers and I had this fort in the woods. Two by fours thrown together with plywood. Kid stuff. But it was ours. When it was raining or snowing and the fights echoed off the walls, we’d hole up in there. One night I lost it. I’d had enough of running, hiding, not having anyplace that felt like home. I left my brothers in the fort and confronted my father.”
“At sixteen?” Her voice escalated with surprise.
He nodded. “I was angry, invincible, standing on the edge of a very thin line between freedom and juvy—and lucky my father didn’t deck my ass. He’d always been cutthroat, but he’d turned into a miserable bastard. I’ll never forget that night. It was sleeting, and we’d left without our coats. I was drenched, shaking from anger more than cold probably, but shaking nonetheless. At sixteen I was already six two or three, probably all of a hundred sixty pounds. Nothing compared to my dad, who stands six four and two thirty. But I was full of rage—at the world, at God, at my parents, myself. I told my father we’d had enough and to get the hell out of the house.” His mind reeled back almost twenty years to his father’s confused face, and in a flash, how the confusion had morphed to anger. He closed his eyes briefly as the verbal rage that ensued slammed into him. Refusing to give his father that power, he forced himself to continue speaking.
“I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I didn’t back down. My mother was crying and begging me to stop, but all I saw was Lorelei in that hospital bed, a shadow of the sister she’d been, and the funeral. The awful, terrible funeral and my brothers hiding in the woods. We’d lost our sister, and I felt like we were losing each other at breakneck speed. I think I felt like it was a choice. My dad or the family.” That realization gave him pause. It was another thing he hadn’t picked apart until just now. Another piece of him Amanda dug up and forced him to face with love and kindness he didn’t deserve.
“Mick,” she whispered, holding his hand.
He couldn’t stop talking, didn’t want to, until she knew it all. “He left, but he came back the next day, and things changed. Got quiet again, tense, scary in a way that it had never been. Like we were all waiting for the glass floor to shatter, only it felt like it already had and we were suspended by something tentative and dark, waiting to drop onto the shards. Then one day he moved out, and…” He didn’t really remember anything specific after that until weeks later.
“One day life was easier again. Not normal. Not fine, but easier. Our father’s still miserable, and our mother is warm and loving again, but empty. So damn empty.”
Amanda rested her head on his shoulder. He knew she was processing all that he�
��d said, probably thinking less of him for breaking up his family for good. But it was out there now. His past, his present, his future, all wrapped up in one big mess, and she wasn’t pushing him away.
She was there by his side, her head on his shoulder, giving him the strength to breathe.
“You were there for everyone,” she said. “You took care of them. Who took care of you?”
The question pained him, because he’d always felt guilty for feeling a little bit of that back then, at a time when he needed to hold everyone else together.
“I was a man. I didn’t need to be taken care of.”
“Everyone needs taking care of.” She rose onto her knees and straddled his lap.
“You want to fool around?” The halfhearted joke hung heavily between them. Her eyes went serious, seeing right though his smoke screen.
“I don’t want you to run away.”
He wrapped his arms around her, wondering if she knew he’d been running since he was a teenager and he didn’t intend to stop.
“When the judge asks you something you don’t like, you pace like a caged tiger,” she said with a small smile. “When a client tries to back you into a corner, you put them in their place, but then you leave them alone to stew over the slaughtering you’ve given them and you pace the halls. And sometimes when your brothers come to see you, you leave them in your office and look like you’re chewing on nails while you wear a path in the hall.”
She had him pegged on all accounts. “You watch me that closely?”
A flush rose on her cheeks and she pursed her lips. “Purely for research purposes.” She placed her hands on his chest and her expression softened again. “My boss taught me to listen for holes, discrepancies, anything that might shadow the truth.”
He looked away, his gut fisting for a whole new reason. He didn’t want her to see the effect it had on him knowing she’d been watching him so closely, but more importantly, he didn’t want her to see how dark he was on the inside. How villainous the part was that he didn’t confess.
Bad Boys After Dark: Mick Page 12
