by Stacy Gail
“You think you can cram a lifetime of being separated into a five-minute conversation? And I thought you were smart.” Manny looked out at the crowd and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Yo, everybody! You jerks have run Dallas off her feet, so she’s gettin’ a break. You want a drink, come on up to the bar and order it. You don’t like the self-serve aspect of this fine establishment, you can fuckin’ leave—just pay your damn tab before you do. Go talk to your brother, D,” he added in a quieter tone, dropping his hands as a surge of people approached the bar. “And good luck.”
She only hoped she wouldn’t need it.
“Nice guy.” Des eyed Manny as she placed the glass of ice water on the table before taking the seat opposite him. “Wonder what charm school he went to?”
“The US Marine Corp, and Manny is a nice guy. The best.” She sat ramrod straight in her chair, not sure what to do or say. More than anything she wanted to reach for him, though she honestly didn’t know whether it was to smack him or hug him. To be on the safe side, she gripped her hands in her lap and tried to calm the chaos inside her. “So. You’re here. Didn’t see that coming.”
Des lifted a shoulder. “I figured it’d be safer, meeting you here.”
“Safer?”
“Far as I can tell, there are no garden hoses in here.”
Smartass. “I’m resourceful. I could always make do with a shaken-up can of Coke.”
“I’m hoping you won’t, though I’d understand if you did.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward, as if what he had to share were state secrets. “What I said earlier... I know it sounded bad—”
“No shit.” She didn’t soften her tone, because she didn’t want to lie to him. He’d hurt her, and that wasn’t okay. “We might be siblings, but you don’t know me. I don’t sleep around. If you don’t count my first foster dad who molested me when I was a kid—and no one in their right mind should count that—I’ve had exactly one intimate relationship before Killian, and that was almost ten years ago. I won’t ask how many people you’ve slept with, but I’d be willing to bet it’s more than one.” When he looked as uncomfortable as a man sitting on a bed of nails, she realized she’d gone too far. “Damn it. I didn’t mean to attack you. I just hate the fact that I feel I have to justify my whole adult life to you when I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You don’t have to justify anything,” he said immediately, his angular face tense to the point of looking grim. “I made you feel that way because I shot my fucking mouth off without even thinking about you. I only realized how shitty that must’ve sounded to you when I got a face full of pressurized water.” Then he frowned, and it was downright dangerous. “You were molested? Who the fuck did this?”
“It doesn’t matter, Desmond, because it’s done. Just like the past is done. Whatever you’re holding on to that compelled you to say what you said earlier... it’s not healthy. More than that, it’s fucked up. You have to know that.”
He hesitated, as though struggling to find the right words. “When I was dumped on the Brody family’s doorstep, I didn’t understand why. No five-year-old kid understands how babies are made, but I got educated real fast. What I learned—even if it wasn’t accurate—was that what my biological mother did to make me was as bad as it gets. Like, worse than murder.”
“No,” she whispered while her heart began to crack. “No, Des.”
“I know that now. But at the time I was made to feel that my existence was worse than murder,” he went on relentlessly, his voice as hard and cold as a glacier. “I heard the word whore on a daily basis for over a decade. When that happens, when you’re branded as the abomination of a sin-tainted whore, that stigma—that feeling—becomes a part of you. An integral part of you. I fought against it, but after a while I just assumed everyone looked at me and immediately knew what I was. The tainted son of a whore.”
The cracks in her heart became chasms as she realized the enormity of the scars he’d been burdened with. “If that’s the case, then I have to wonder if you’ve ever been allowed to see who you really are.”
He looked at her like she was speaking another language. “What?”
“The way you see yourself—the tainted son of a whore—that isn’t who you are, Des, and literally no one else on the planet sees you like that. No one thinks that, because it’s nowhere near reality. What you just described is the warped view of an incredibly sick woman who tortured you while you were trapped inside that house with her. You know what the actual reality of the situation was? Two people met. They were weak and stupid and selfish, so they had an affair, just like countless other people around the world. No one was tainted, and no one was a whore—and by the way, it pisses me off that somehow the man always gets a pass on shit like that while the woman gets slapped with that stupid whore label. Fuck that backwards, scarlet-letter bullshit way of thinking. They both messed up. They both hurt people. They both were in the wrong. But they weren’t evil or tainted, or whatever. What’s more, an amazing gift came out of their selfishness. You. You’re the one and only good thing those two weak people ever created, and I for one am very glad of that. You were my best friend and the single greatest thing I had in my childhood. I’ll always be grateful you exist. That’s the actual reality.”
He was quiet for several seconds as he absorbed this, his gaze on the glass of ice water in front of him. When he looked back up, her fractured heart fell to pieces when she saw a glitter of moisture there. “I’ve missed you, Dallas.”
That damn moisture filled her eyes as well. “I’ve missed you too, Des. So much. And I’m so sorry I let you go that final night. I didn’t mean to.”
He reached out a hand, palm up. “It wasn’t your fault.”
She slid her hand into his as the first tear fell. “I let you go.”
“No, you didn’t. I remember how hard you tried to hold on to me. What’s truly sad is that I get the feeling you’ve never let me go. After all this time, you’ve never let me go. I love you for that, but you need to make peace with the fact that I’m okay now. So it’s okay for you to finally let that part of our lives go.”
She rolled her lips between her teeth and tried to kill the choking need to sob. “That was the worst day of my life. Yours too, I imagine.”
A cynical laugh escaped him, and he withdrew his hand. “Oh, you’d be surprised. That bad day was just the first of many.”
Just when she thought her heart couldn’t be any more broken. “And all those bad days left their mark on you, didn’t they?”
“In more ways than one.”
She frowned, not sure what that meant, but one day she’d damn well get to the bottom of it. “I don’t know if this will help or hurt your perspective on things, but you should know that you weren’t the only one damaged by living with a madwoman. It left Killian bruised, too. Some of that damage was self-inflicted,” she added when he opened his mouth to protest. “Killian is the first to admit he was downright awful to you when you first appeared. He’ll go to his grave regretting it, which is pretty sad, if you think about it. As bad as it is that he’ll never know the relief of you forgiving him, it’s even worse knowing that he’ll never forgive himself.”
That cynicism curled the corners of his mouth. “I don’t think you know Kill as well as you think you do.”
“I know he stood guard over you outside your bedroom late at night whenever your father went away on business,” she said, and watched his brows quirk in poorly concealed surprise. “I know that when Killian went off to college, he was so worried about your safety he let Ry in on the secret of guarding you while you slept, to keep their mother from harming you. If you don’t believe me, you can always ask Ry about it. And I know Killian kidnapped me because he thought you were dying, and I was the only person who could help you. I was going to come back to Bitterthorn anyway, but he didn’t know that. Killian was so terrified of losing you, so desperate, he went off the deep end and grabbed me up to be so-called spare parts for you. He
loves you even though he knows you hate him, and the proof of that is sitting right in front of you. He committed a fucking felony, bringing me to you, because that man would go to any lengths to save you. If you ask me, that’s one hell of a brother you have. He’s just waiting for you to realize it.”
“I also have one hell of a sister.” The cynicism faded from his smile, and once again he reached for her hand. “You were really going to come back to Bitterthorn on your own?”
She squeezed his fingers. “Yeah. I was on my way to the bank so I could have some traveling cash on me when Killian grabbed me.”
“And you fucked up his thumb.”
“I’m a lot more dangerous than I seem.”
“After the garden hose facial you gave me today, I don’t doubt that one bit,” he drawled, chuckling, and she loved the deep, warm sound. “You have a temper on you that can terrify even a Brody man.”
She laughed. “Did I terrify you?”
“Yeah, though I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about Kill. After you slammed back into the house he just stood there, dripping and speechless. Then without a word to me or anything, he just got into his truck and left.” His humor faded and he cringed, looking like he half-feared she might hit him. “I, uh, think maybe I screwed things up between you guys.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll work it out.” Though she had no idea where to start.
Chapter Fifteen
“Drive safely, Manny, and thanks for the weekend off.” Waving a hand out her car window, Dallas headed out of The Dive’s emptying parking lot. But instead of heading toward Green Rock Ranch, she found herself turning toward town, and she didn’t consciously realize where she was going until she passed Bitterthorn’s one and only elementary school.
Once upon a time, she and Des had lived only a block away from that school.
She still remembered the way.
The residential street was quiet as she came to a stop and got out of the car, but that wasn’t surprising; even if it hadn’t been half past two in the morning, she remembered very little happened on this street once the sun went down. Before that time, of course, the street was usually alive with children during the summertime—running through the sprinklers, drawing on sidewalks with brightly colored chalk or riding their bikes and skateboards. Summer on this street had always been fun.
Then one night the fun had stopped, along with her childhood.
Crossing her arms, she leaned back against the car and stared hard at the low, squat house at the end of the street. It wasn’t anything special. Realtors would’ve called it something lame, like a charming starter ranch, or maybe a retiree’s single-story bungalow on a secluded corner lot. The tan siding was new, but everything else about it was the same—straggly boxwood hedges lining the cracked cement walk up to the unimpressive porch. Blank rectangular windows with dusty-looking screens dotting its front with uniform symmetry. All the houses looked alike on this street; mid-20th-century construction on large lots, created with cookie-cutter symmetry and zero imagination, but basically a good place to raise a family.
With everything in her, she loathed the sight of it.
The blinding white of headlights bounced over her. Quickly she turned her head, squinting against the glare as a familiar white truck pulled up behind her car. When Killian climbed out, she could only shake her head.
Of course he’d followed her. She wasn’t even surprised.
“Neighborhood Watch is going to be on your ass if you loiter around here much longer.” His drawl was calm and rock-steady, and the sound of it soothed her in ways she couldn’t begin to explain. In the light of the single streetlight a few houses down, she could see a bruise on his chin and a thin cut on his lip, but otherwise he looked none the worse for wear. “I give it ten more minutes before a cop car comes cruising by, wanting to know your business here.”
“Do I look scared?”
“Nope, though that doesn’t mean much. As your official kidnapper, I know for a fact that even when you’re terrified, you never look it.” He stopped within a few inches of her and leaned one hand on the car’s roof. “What are you doing here, Spice?”
She only shook her head. She wasn’t sure herself.
What’s truly sad is that I get the feeling you’ve never let me go...
Des was right. Holding on to trauma was sad. Masochistic, even. She just needed to find a way to stop.
The silence stretched out, with her eyes on the house behind him and his eyes on her. Then he gently caught her chin and brought her attention to him. “You still mad at me? Is this why I’m getting the silent treatment from you?”
“No, and I’m sorry about being angry with you.” She reached up, took his hand in hers, and turned to press a lingering kiss into his palm. “I didn’t understand what Des was talking about earlier, but he dropped by The Dive and explained...well, he explained lots of things. I was just upset and I took it out on you, and I’m very sorry about that. It wasn’t fair.”
“No, it wasn’t, but I get how it sounded, and it guts me that you got that upset. I can take a lot of things, but I found out this morning that I cannot fucking take you being hurt in any way. It’s like I’ve developed this weird allergy to your pain. I’ve never felt anything like that before, and I never want to feel it again. I simply will not put up with it.”
She winced. “Killian, I’m truly sorry—”
“You’re not reading me right, woman. I’m not mad at you. Not at all. You had every damn right to be upset. I just couldn’t stand to see you like that. It hurt me to see you hurting, to the point where I couldn’t even catch my breath.”
She stared at him in the dimness while his words sank the strangest, sweetest warmth into her veins. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Then I need to up my game.” With a half-smile, he bent and brushed her lips with his. “You should know I told my brothers how I felt, including Des, so I’m glad to hear he took what I said to heart and went to mend that fence with you. No one is allowed to get you that upset. If they do, not only will they have to worry about you giving them hell with a garden hose, they’ll also have to worry about me.”
Something unbearably beautiful clenched in her chest. “I get why you told Des that, but I don’t know why you told your other brothers about not upsetting me. They never would, I’m sure.”
“I told them because they’re good at spreading the word about this sort of thing. Before the end of the week, all of Bitterthorn will know that you are not to be hassled. You’re to be respected and catered to at every turn, and if anyone dares to bring up your mother or my father while in your presence, they will personally get to know what it feels like to have my boot lodged up their ass.”
Dear God, this man... “Brody, you can’t do that.”
“I already did, and I’m not going to undo it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m doing the one thing I know I was born to do—making sure you’re treated like the queen you are. Now,” he went on while she grappled with the enormity of that statement, “wanna tell me what we’re doing standing out here at two o’clock in the fucking morning?”
“I’m trying to talk myself out of fire-bombing that house over there on the end.” After the sort of statement he just shared with her, the least she could do was be honest with him.
Brows raised, he shot an interested glance over his shoulder. “Who lives inside?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure they’re lovely people. They’re not the problem.”
“What is?”
It’s okay for you to finally let that part of our lives go.
“I guess you could say I’m trying to let go of the past. But there’s a closet in there that I simply cannot stand. More than anything, I just want to make it go away forever.”
“Ah.” The light went on in his eyes, and he again glanced back at the house. “That was your house? The one with the sad-looking hedges and blank win
dows?”
“That’s the one.”
“Fuck that house.” He turned back to her, and this time he blocked her view of her former home by leaning both hands on the car roof and filling her vision with him. “That house is nothing. You’re everything. End of story.”
That dragged a reluctant laugh out of her. “Sometimes I think it must be a very simple, very happy life, being a Brody. It’s like you believe you can make things reality just by saying it out loud.”
“I do it all the time.”
“This doesn’t surprise me.”
“Come home with me, Spice.” His mouth hovered over hers, teasing her, tempting her. “Let me take care of you.”
Was it possible to die of longing? His words alone nearly buckled her knees. “I have to tell you something. I don’t know if I can live in that big old house much longer. Now that I know what went on within those walls—”
“The main house hasn’t been home for me for over a decade.”
Oh. “Really?”
“Really.” His lips cruised over her cheek, lingering on its high curve, before roaming over her closed eye and brow bone. “I want to take you home. Actually, I’ve got a lot of wants. It’s like a checklist.”
Warmth bloomed along her skin, moving to center at the juncture of her thighs. “Tell me.”
“First, I want you to come home with me. Then I want you to let me undress you as gently as I know how. Then I want to carry you to my bed. Then I want you to sit on my face so I can fuck you with my mouth until you come so hard you scream like a banshee, because I seriously get off on all those incredible, dick-hardening fuck-noises you make. But the first step is you coming home with me. Tell me you will.”
The ache between her legs grew until it was a sweet anguish to endure, and it took all her strength not to moan out loud. “I’ll follow you in my car.”
Less than ten minutes later, Dallas kept her eyes on the truck’s bumper as they rolled past Green Rock’s main house, then peeled off to the right down another dirt road she hadn’t even known was there. The terrain rose as their path twisted around a bend, and in the darkness of night she could still see black, hulking outlines of trees against the starlit sky. As they crested the hill, motion-sensor lights bloomed as dirt track gave way to white gravel, which created a circular driveway in front of a split-level contemporary home with a Northwestern flare, thanks to all the wood and floor-to-ceiling windows. She couldn’t see the view those windows looked out on, but considering the long hill climb they’d just done, she suspected that view was something else.
