by Tasman Gibb
It was an image from her childhood and he’d caught it so well. The memory returned strong because it wasn’t usual for them to have fresh vegetables but someone had dropped in a large bag of peas and she and her Mom sat together opening the pods, freeing the peas into a pot. She couldn’t remember where Ray was that day, though he obviously watched the scene, but she remembered her surprise at the extraordinary sweetness of the first fresh pea she tasted.
Stacked behind that picture sat a portrait of her mother from later in her life, when her mouth had set in a line of defeat, and her eyes, where there should have been vitality, clouded dull. The picture was honest, perhaps one of the most honest things Ray did in his life. In it could be seen an acknowledgment that his constant deception robbed her mother’s vigor.
Picture after picture followed a similar vein: scenes from her childhood and the ruin of her mother. “He started painting again.” A kernel of hope grew inside her that maybe he used painting to curb his compulsion to gamble.
“I hoped you’d be pleased when you saw them.”
Over her shoulder she saw Vince smiling at her. Who was this man who cared enough about the small gains of pleasure she could find in a broken gambler’s art? Was she lucky to have his attention, or was he like this with everybody? Taking notice of the small things in their life that were out of balance, so that if something came along that would help the pendulum swing back a little, an ounce weight to counter the tip of the scales, he hoped that person would see it and enjoy it.
“I am pleased.” That truth sent a rush of heat through her cheeks that surprised her. The trailer was stuffy, the Nevada dry desert heat relentless after the moisture-rich air of Washington. Perhaps she was sunburned…or the wind. Or, burned by Vince and that way he managed to dismantle her with a few caring words.
Yet he offered no explanation for his withdrawal and she had to be grateful that in a practical sense he not only saved her father’s life, but now, here he stood helping her clean out the contents of a less than immaculate trailer.
“When are you heading home?” After finishing clearing Ray’s stuff they were back on the road, driving to Vegas, having stopped first to pay the rent Ray owed.
“Probably tomorrow. I want to go back for Doc’s funeral.”
“Where will you go after?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Don’t just go, Vince. Don’t you dare.”
“One day at a time, Lulah. I can’t see further than that right now.”
Why didn’t she believe him? Sitting alongside him in the truck she couldn’t stop herself wishing they were back at Halo Peak, maybe coming in from town. Back to how things were before the auction, before Doc, before Ray. But she’d spent years with those sorts of wishes running around her head.
“You haven’t told me much about the auction.”
She met his glance. “The auction was fabulous, Vince. I wish you’d been there. I was nearly sick with nerves before I…” This was the sort of thing she’d resolved not to put on him.
“Lulah?”
“I talked about you. I used you—the fact you’d needed a break—as my motivation. Initially I thought I’d deliver the speech you’d practiced; I almost knew it by heart. Once we reached Seattle I decided to make my own speech in the hope that I could get the people at the auction to understand that there is no fairytale ending to all of this once a vet receives a service dog, but it sure helps. At one stage I looked out across the auditorium and there was this sea of faces, staring right back. I was nearly sick.”
“You’re incredible; I’m not sure now that I could have made that speech.”
“I bet you could. Anyway, once I saw them all, I pulled out my trump card, talked about Justice and how he suffered his own form of PTSD and that he was much better, but not cured, and you know what?”
“Tell me.”
“Hardly a dry eye in the house. And I think it worked because they bid like crazy at the auction.”
“Marlo sent me a text to say that the Justice model raised forty-two grand. That can’t be right, she must have stumbled over the zeroes.”
“Nope, that’s what was bid for him. And there’s a whole bunch of people who want to commission you to make models of their own dogs. Plus there’s a gallery who want to talk to you. Adam has the details.”
“Hell…”
“People who can pay, Vince. You said how much you love carving, how it brings you peace. You could set up your own studio.”
“Something to think about.”
Despite the good news in the promise of more work, he sounded flat. It hit her. “Vince.” She said his name gently, wanting his open attention without any barriers, but as she spoke, his shoulders tensed. “You need to finish that break you started, huh?”
His focus stayed firmly on the road ahead, his mouth tight.
Lulah pushed on. “You came out of your break too early because you thought helping me by finding Dad might settle something inside you, an emotional debt you don’t want to owe.” She waited longer, giving him an opportunity to respond, but there was nothing more than a flexing of his jaw. “You thought if you came and found him, sorted him out so that he wasn’t a concern to me any longer, that you could walk away from us without any trace of guilt because you’d done something good for me.”
His response was one word that hung in the air between them; her name, expressed in a noisy exhalation peppered with need and pain.
“You only have one debt, Vince. It’s not owed to me, to Gable and Taryn, or your parents. It’s not an obligation to the families of your friends who didn’t make it back. That debt is to yourself. You owe it to yourself to find inner forgiveness.”
He nodded, glanced at her, nodded again before returning to concentrating on the road.
They were quiet until they entered the outer suburbs of Vegas and Vince suggested dropping her off at the hospital. “You let Ray know what we did today. I have some things to see to, so I’ll be back for you around five.”
RAY’S CONTINUED IMPROVEMENT was remarkable. That afternoon, Lulah found him sitting up in bed with most of the tubes removed. He seemed grateful for what they’d done for him and almost excited about Lulah’s plan to get him into rehabilitation as close as possible to her in Halo Peak. “Keep painting, Dad. Vince thinks you’re talented.”
“Sure, Lulu. Is he a good man, that Vince? Do you two have a thing going a dad should know about?”
“We’re friends, Dad. Nothing more than that.” The words stung something inside of her but she knew if she said them enough, out loud to people, she would continue to believe them. “He’s an artist, too, you know? He does amazing sketches and he carves these full-sized carousel animals. Horses, dogs, any animal. He’s restoring a horse at the moment and he carved a stunning replica, so lifelike, of one of the dogs at the Sanctuary. He put it on rockers so a child could play on it, or you could have it as a piece in your house.”
“That’s a real skill. I knew a guy years ago who used to run a carousel for a traveling fair. In between seasons I would help him clean up and repaint the ride. The work that goes into those things is amazing. I remember taking you along when we’d finished maintenance one time. All the other kids hanging around wanted to sit on the horses, lions, and tigers, but you only had eyes for the dog. One of those giant Swiss dogs if I remember right. The fuss you kicked up when I tried to take you home. In the end I dragged you kicking and fussing, off the thing. You bit me.”
“I bit you!”
He smiled, crooked and bruised. “You had such spirit. Still do, don’t you?”
“Mostly, maybe. Sometimes it falters.”
“When people let you down.”
“Yes, when people…men, let me down.”
“I’m not your responsibility, Lulu.”
Lulah snorted. “You’re family, Dad. If you want me to stop feeling responsible for you, you’re going to have to take responsibility for yourself.” She watched him breathing, hea
d back on the pillow, eyes closed again, and could see right there that she’d never stop looking out for him. She leaned in to give him a kiss and he took hold of her hand with a surprisingly strong grip.
“Promise me you won’t go feeling responsible for that Vince, either. Maybe let him take care of you for a bit.”
Unbelievable. “Sure, Dad, I’ll do that.”
Chapter 26
LULAH STOOD WAITING outside the hospital when Vince returned to collect her. Despite Ray’s improvement he tired easily and fell asleep towards the end of her visit. Vince found a small restaurant for dinner and they headed back to the hotel to shower and change.
Once inside the hotel room Calliope flopped down in front of the air conditioning unit. Vince pulled two bottles of water from the small fridge, unscrewing the cap on one and handing it to Lulah. She tipped her head back to drink and he watched the rhythmic contraction of muscles in her throat as she drained the bottle without pausing. She wiped her mouth on her shoulder and tossed the empty bottle into the trash. “I needed that,” she said as her phone rang, and she stepped from the room to take the call.
Lulah paced the small balcony, pausing occasionally to run her fingers along the rail. The call took some time and Vince fought the need to fidget as he ran through his speech. When she pocketed her phone and returned inside he beckoned her to sit alongside him on the sofa.
“That was the police. They’ve pulled in the guy who beat up Dad. It turns out the prick was a ‘collector’ for LoanStar who’d gone rogue. He was dismissed from his job, so he stole the contact details of people like Dad, with outstanding debts, and went on a two-day spree trying to beat the money out of his list before LoanStar and the police caught onto what he was doing.”
Jesus, she wasn’t going to like this. “I know.”
“You know? What? Did the police already call you? Why didn’t you say something?” Her face screwed a little, puzzled, and he understood that she wouldn’t thank him when he told her what he’d done. Butting in on something she wanted to deal with herself would really piss her off. “I found out from LoanStar. I paid them a visit while you were with Ray.”
“Why? What made you visit LoanStar, and why the hell didn’t you discuss it with me?”
“I paid Ray’s loan—”
“You what?” Her disbelief rapidly turned to anger and Vince stood, ready to grab her if she was going to take off.
“Sit!” she ordered.
“I’m not a dog.”
“I need you to sit, Vince, and I need to stand because…what the hell? Why?”
Angry Lulah, all tight and contained, eyes like flint—amazing. Vince was happy to sit if that would appease her because her reaction didn’t surprise him at all. He’d wait, let her burn off some stress with a rant, then convince her he’d made the right move.
“That was my business, Vince, nothing whatsoever to do with you. You’ve meddled enough already, searching for Dad, coming down here and finding him.”
“Yeah, well, that probably saved his life.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve done enough. Paying his dirty loans, that’s my family business. What next? Do you have someone looking for my mother? Are you going to suggest—”
“Stop. Stop now and listen.”
“I’m not finished.”
“I don’t care. Yes, I found Ray because having him missing and in trouble was a bug in your life and you don’t deserve that. When I arrived here and saw the mess Ray was in, I had to finish that business. Do you really think I’d let you go to LoanStar when, at the time, we both thought they were responsible for sending someone to beat Ray within an inch of his life? I can’t be much for you but I will not stand back and allow you to put yourself in danger.”
“It wasn’t your business.” Her words ground out as if she had a mouth full of hot desert grit.
“Wrong, Lulah, totally wrong. It was my business because I love you so fucking much that I will do everything I can to keep you from harm. All right? That’s what I do, it’s all I can do for you. But please, don’t feel obligated by my love because it gives me the strength to live without you. Understand that it’s because of the way I feel about you that I couldn’t walk away from this job half done, no matter how much that pisses you off.”
“We could have discussed it.”
His breathing was ragged. The t-shirt she wore was filthy from cleaning out the trailer and her cut-off denim shorts had a fresh rip on the outside seam of the left leg. He stood, continuing with a measured voice. “You’re not hearing me. You would never have agreed.”
As he stepped towards her she backed away, her eyes volcanic. “I haven’t finished—”
He took a firm hold of each side of her face. “Neither have I.”
His kiss was filled with the hunger of days of denial, and when she met it, releasing her pent-up fury, heat roared through his veins like an accelerant ignited. Lulah’s tongue sparred with his, as if it was the only way to express her anger, and he stayed with her, holding her head firmly to give her something to fight. She was like a boxer, a flyweight he kept on her toes, her small fist pummeling his shoulder as she released all of the frustration of the past week. Finally she broke the kiss, a fast withdrawal before she caught his lip with a piercing bite.
Holy hell, he’d really made her mad.
Lulah tried to duck her head. He knew that move, where she’d put her forehead on his chest, to his heart, using it as a method to calm him, her connection to slow things down. Well fuck that. After what he’d admitted he wasn’t cutting out now. He put his mouth hard against her cheekbone, close to her ear. His breath came harsh and hot, the blood from where she’d bitten him coppery in his mouth. “Let it out, imp, all of it.”
She remained a coil of wire, tightly strung and barbed in his arms, and Vince kept his head against hers as she struggled against him to pull herself free. To hold her was easy and if he released her now, she’d dive for composure and surface fine. Most times he’d be happy for her to do that, but not today. “Come on, all of it out.”
“No.” Her sob filled with anger.
“You can’t hurt me, keep going.” It was bullshit. Of course she could hurt him, but not with her fist.
“No, no, no.” Each cry spilled with her mantra of denial.
“There’s more, Lulah, give me all of it. Out.”
Just as quickly, her pounding fist stilled. Through Lulah’s chest came a shuddering breath and she gripped his shirt, twisting it in her hand. “You can’t love me.”
“You can’t stop love, Lulah.” He eased his hold on her jaw as the fight left her. His blood and her tears were mixed with the grime that smeared her right cheek. His lip swelled where she’d bitten him but the bleeding all but ceased. “I’m still not finished,” he warned. Intense longing twisted his heart in a knot and Vince took Lulah’s wrist, pulling her towards the bathroom.
If there was one thing the hotel did right, it was the bathroom. The double shower stall was enormous, glassed, the massive floor-to-ceiling mirrors on two of the opposing walls leaving you exposed if you glanced up from washing yourself. And the handrail fixed to the tiled wall gave him an idea.
Keeping the grip on Lulah’s wrist he urged her through the doorway, and turned her towards him. With one hand he pulled off his t-shirt, swapping his hold on her as he took his arms through the sleeves. Still eye-to-eye, he dropped his shorts and boxers, kicking them to the corner with his shirt so that he stood before her, completely naked. Lulah lowered her eyes in a slow perusal of him that made his already hardening cock fill. She sucked on her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth.
“Careful, those teeth are sharp,” he warned, his tongue again testing the wound she’d left on his own mouth.
Lulah released her lip, her gaze making another body sweep. His cock pulsed. Christ, he needed to deal with this. Dropping her wrist he told her to strip. The flash of defiance that rippled across her face reminded him of other times when she’d demanded con
trol. He imagined her inner turmoil, a little voice, or maybe it was loud, telling her she didn’t have to do a thing if she chose not to. For a moment he thought she’d berate him, or turn and leave but instead, starting at her shoulders, she ran her hands down her body in a long caress, pausing at her breasts, squeezing them for a moment as if to ease an ache, before continuing across the plane of her stomach, smoothing the shirt tight so that her breasts were outlined perfectly. Taking hold of the hem of her shirt she peeled it off and, without breaking their gaze, tossed it to the corner where his clothes lay.
He gripped his cock and Lulah finally moved her focus to his hand as he allowed himself one tortuous stroke.
“Let me do that.” Her voice had that raspy edge he loved.
He shook his head. “You’re still clothed.”
Lulah’s chest rose and fell with metronomic precision and he found himself following that beat with each slide of his hand, up and down the length of his cock.
Finally she reached behind her, releasing the hooks on her bra, adding it to the corner pile. Her hands found her nipples, pinching them, too hard if the quick blink he saw was anything to go by. Quicker now, she released the button on her shorts, the zipper drawn down with a smooth tug and the garment dropped to her ankles. A deft backwards kick and her shorts came to rest against the far wall. Using her right hand she pulled her tiny panties to one side and slipped a finger between her legs.
He heard his groan, but more than that, he felt it erupt from somewhere near the base of his tightening balls. He released himself, closed the distance between them and used his finger to tease his way inside her briefs until he covered her hand with his own, feeling the movement in her knuckle as she worked her finger in a steady circle. He squeezed her hand, heard the short “uh” as her finger stilled and moved to withdraw. “Keep your hand there, I want to feel with you.”
