Falling Together (All That Remains #2)

by S. M. Shade

  “He shouldn’t have punched you, but you know he didn’t mean to do it. He was scared. I kind of wanted to hit you too.”

  “I said I was sorry, Abby, what more do you want?” he snaps.

  “You apologized to me, Airen, not him. I understand, and I know you wouldn’t worry me intentionally, but, just for one second, try to see this from Joseph’s point of view. He thought the worst, that you were taken or dead, and when we found you, you acted as though it was no big deal. It’s like a slap in the face. I’m sure he was overwhelmed, angry you put him through that, relieved you were okay, and probably hurt you didn’t care enough to apologize.”

  His hands rasp over stubbly cheeks as he scrubs his face and sighs. “What are you suggesting I do? Go over there and kiss his ass until he decides I’m sorry enough?” Oh, if he doesn’t shut up, I’m going to pop him in the mouth myself.

  “No. Go tell him you screwed up and you’re sorry. That’s all.” He keeps his eyes locked on mine, glaring at me, but I’m not going to be intimidated. “How would you have felt if I’d disappeared for an entire day? If, when you found me, I shrugged and claimed I’d simply forgotten?”

  “That’s different,” he mumbles, but his eyes betray his guilt, darting away.

  “It’s not. He cares about you every bit as much as you care about me, whether you want to admit it or not.”

  “If I agree to go apologize tomorrow, will you drop it?”

  “Yep.” I smile.

  “Fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Bully,” he remarks, pursing his lips.

  “Don’t pout.” I giggle, and he gives me a reluctant smile.

  “Now that we have that settled, are you ready to admit you were checking out my ass?” Laughing, he pulls me into bed.

  Chapter Two

  Joseph

  “Thank you for helping.” I kiss Troy and dodge Walker as he darts by.

  “Sorry Dad! Eric’s gonna play Battleship with me and Carson plays the winner!” he calls. He loves to have Carson over to visit.

  “Abby would do it for us.” Troy grins.

  “Well, you’re still a sweetheart.”

  “That’s me.”

  Things have been difficult for Troy since his rescue from a crazy homophobic cult. Airen, Abby, and I were only held there for a few days and I still have nightmares. Though the leader and the other members are long dead, it showed us what people are capable of in a lawless world. I don’t know the extent of what Troy suffered at their hands, but I can imagine, and it makes me nauseous. I know they tortured him. His back, behind, and thighs are laced with long thin scars, and there are spots on his feet that look like cigarette burns. He goes out of his way to hide the scars. I rarely see him without a shirt, and as you can imagine, this limits our sex life. He’s just so uncomfortable with himself, but we’re working on it. It’s heartbreaking because he’s such a kind, thoughtful person.

  “We could keep the baby overnight sometime,” he offers.

  “If we can pry him out of Abby’s grip. Don’t we have enough kids running through the house at the moment?” I grin.

  “Kids are great. Abby and Airen are lucky.”

  “Yes, they are. I’ll talk to Abby and tell her Lane needs to spend some time with his uncles.” I’m rewarded with a shy smile. “You have such a cute smile.” I rest my hands on his hips and kiss his lips softly. His brown eyes settle on mine.

  “Do you love me?” he asks in a low voice, an impassive expression on his face. We have been together for three months without exchanging those all important words. The truth is, I’m just not sure. I care for him. I love being with him. He’s attractive with his light brown eyes and sandy hair that flops over his forehead. Still, I don’t feel like I did with my late husband, or how I feel when I’m with Airen. Regardless, I don’t want to lose him and I know he needs me. He needs to be loved.

  “With all my heart,” I reply, holding him close.

  “I love you, too.”

  We kiss, lightly at first until he parts his lips slightly, allowing my tongue access to his mouth. The kiss deepens, our tongues engaging in a slow dance, giving and taking. He moans into my mouth and I hold him tighter, as if he may dart away from me at any second. His firm chest and thighs press against mine and I can feel him getting hard. I gasp when his hand slides between us, his fingers rubbing firmly over the bulge he’s created.

  “Let’s put the kids to bed early tonight,” he whispers. His hand roams around my back and settles on the curve of my ass with a squeeze.

  “Mmm, how about now?” I mumble, my lips finding the soft spot below his ear.

  Laughing, he pulls away from me. “It’s six o’clock.”

  “You started it,” I accuse good naturedly.

  “And I’ll finish it…tonight.” He flashes a teasing grin.

  Oh, I wish I could believe that. I’m fighting the urge to jerk his pants off and teach him a lesson for taunting me. My groan rumbles against his neck and he chuckles. “I’m going to shower.”

  “No you don’t. You wait for me.” His voice is stern.

  “Are you going to shower with me?” My hands glide over his shoulders, and start gently down his back. His entire body instantly stiffens and he takes a quick step back. Shit, the scars.

  “Uh…no. That isn’t what I meant,” he stumbles, suddenly pale.

  “I’m sorry.” I take his hand. “I’m not trying to pressure you, honey. I just misunderstood.”

  He nods and bends to kiss my neck before whispering roughly in my ear. “No touching yourself before I get to touch you,” he growls, and I flush from head to toe. He has successfully rendered me speechless. I want him now.

  “You’re adorable when you blush,” he teases. Fortunately, I’m saved from responding when Eric wanders into the room.

  * * * *

  There is a knock at the door and Troy peeks out the window as if a well mannered serial killer may be seeking permission to enter and slaughter us all. It’s Airen. Shit. Where is a serial killer when you need one?

  “Is Joseph around?” he asks.

  “He’s in the kitchen. Go on in.” Troy sighs, closing the door behind him. Airen isn’t one of his favorite people at the moment either. I’m surprised he’s here. Knowing Airen, he’ll try to act like nothing happened. Should I just let it go? I keep my gaze trained on my crossword when I feel his eyes on me. I need a five letter word for arrogant. Holy shit. Airen fits.

  “Hey,” he says hesitantly. Shifting from one foot to the other, he looks embarrassed and uncomfortable, like he’d rather run naked through a cactus patch than talk to me. I’m not going to take pity on him this time.

  “What do you want?” I demand, my tone icy. I struggle to keep an impassive expression, but the twitch in my lip puts a crack in the mask of stoic indifference and betrays my anxiety.

  Taking a deep breath, he holds up a bottle of bourbon as a peace offering and replies, “To apologize.” Without speaking, I retrieve two tumblers from the cabinet and gesture for him to take a seat. He downs the drink in two gulps, stoking himself with liquid courage, before looking up at me. Why does he have to be so damn attractive?

  “I’m sorry I didn’t let anyone know where I was going or at least take a radio. I know I’m the one who always preaches about safety precautions. I wasn’t thinking and I fucked up.” The words fly from his mouth as if they’re burning his tongue.

  “How long have you been rehearsing that?”

  “I’m not good at this sort of thing,” he mumbles. Airen Holder isn’t good at expressing his feelings and humbling himself. It’s not exactly a revelation. Honestly, I’m shocked he made the effort to apologize. Waiting for me to “get over it” is more his style. Abby’s fingerprints are all over this. She must have ridden his ass. Still, I know it’s hard for him, and I’m touched.

  He’s not the only one who fucked up. “I didn’t mean to hit you,” I confess quietly, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “I wa
s sure something had happened to you and when I saw you standing there, smirking…”

  “You decided to knock it off my face?” His tone is dry and sardonic as he arches a dark eyebrow at me, a smirk forming on his lips.

  “No. I didn’t decide anything. I guess I just…reacted, and I don’t know why. I’ve never punched anyone before. I’m sorry.”

  A guilty frown mars his face as he refills our drinks. “Yeah, well, the next time you do something stupid I get a free pass to punch you in the eye, just to even things out.” He grins up at me, and I’m a little ashamed of the relief I feel at the sight of his smile. I missed him.

  “Deal.” I reply, returning his smile.

  “So, are we good?” he asks hesitantly, studying the kitchen table like it may hold the answer he’s looking for.

  “I hope so.” Relief floods his features and warmth spreads through me as he inadvertently reveals how much he really cares about our friendship, about me. “Do you want to get drunk?”

  “Hell, yeah.” The rest of the tension drains from the room, and I yell to Troy to come and join us.

  “That’s quite a right you have,” Airen remarks good naturedly.

  “Remember that.”

  “You do realize I could’ve whipped your ass, right?” He smiles that cocky arrogant smile that never fails to make my heart race.

  “Whatever you need to tell yourself, buddy.”

  * * * *

  Airen plops onto the couch. “Your man is a lightweight.” His drink sloshes over the rim of his glass and splashes down his jeans. He doesn’t miss the look of irony stamped on my face as I toss him a towel. “Shut up,” he mumbles, grinning.

  “Did Abby give you a curfew?” I tease.

  “Are you trying to get rid of me so you can get laid?” He grins and makes himself comfortable, throwing his leg across his knee and leaning back into the cushions.

  That certainly isn’t an issue. I’m trying to be patient with Troy, but it’s difficult. He’s so self-conscious. There are moments when he lets his guard down, but we’ve had little intimate contact. I’m frustrated, and watching Airen parade his sexy ass around isn’t helping.

  “No,” I scoff, shaking my head. Airen’s eyebrows climb his forehead and he gazes at me curiously.

  “You two haven’t…?”

  My face heats while I ponder how to answer this question. Airen has no problem discussing his sex life, although it’s typically just bragging on how many times he made Abby come, or how she attacked him unexpectedly. “Troy isn’t ready,” I mumble.

  Eyes filled with sympathy, he asks, “Do you know what the problem is?” Sighing, I excuse myself to peek in on Troy. He’s dead to the world, snoring loud enough to wake a coma patient. When I return to the sofa, Airen hands me another drink. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s really none of my business.”

  “I just didn’t want him to overhear. I doubt he’d appreciate me discussing it with you.” I love you, Airen, that’s a big part of the problem.

  “It stays between us.” He gazes at me intently.

  “We haven’t fucked. I don’t know everything he was subjected to in that place, but it seriously messed him up. He can’t stand to be touched, especially on the areas that bear scars.”

  “Do you think he was raped?” His voice is hushed.

  “He says he wasn’t, but I can’t be certain. I’ve tried to take things slow. I mean, it’s not like we haven’t done…anything,” I trail off. It feels strange discussing this with him.

  “Don’t get all shy on me now.” He chuckles. “If Abby knew some of things I’ve told you she’d murder me.”

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “We’ve pretty much been limited to blow jobs. I’m not complaining. He’s good, and if he didn’t want anything more it’d be different, but I know he does. He wants to fuck, but he panics, and as soon as things get heated, he retreats. I don’t know if it’s all about the scars, but that’s definitely a large part of it. I’m taking it as slow as I can, but it doesn’t seem like we’re making any progress, and I don’t know what else to do.” My frustration pours out of me. I didn’t realize how much I needed to talk about this.

  Airen nods and rests his hand on my shoulder. It’s a simple everything-will-be-okay-buddy sort of gesture, but I can feel the heat of his palm through my T-shirt and I have to tamp down the urge to grab those lips with mine. “I can’t imagine he’s afraid you’ll hurt him physically. He’s known you long enough to know he can trust you. Is it maybe because he doesn’t like…I mean…maybe you aren’t…compatible?”

  It’s too damn funny to watch him dance around the question. “Are you asking if I top or bottom?”

  “I’m suggesting he may not want to bend over for you if he was forced in that damn stable.”

  “I get it, but that’s not the issue. It’s not just that he won’t fuck me. Christ, Airen, three months and I’ve never seen him completely naked.”

  “I don’t know, buddy, maybe the cult’s teachings got into his head. He was there almost a year. Maybe they made him ashamed of what he wants, of who he is. It’s possible he relates sex with pain because of what they did to him.”

  I sigh and flop back onto the couch. “Now if only a surviving psychiatrist would happen by.”

  Airen laughs and shakes his head. His cheeks are slightly red from the alcohol and tiny beads of sweat form at his temples. “My other suggestion would be to get him drunk first.”

  “Always the gentleman.” I roll my eyes.

  “Worked for Nic,” he slurs, nearly inaudible. Whoa, what?

  “Who’s Nic?” I ask, trying not to sound as if I’m dying to know.

  He blinks and runs his hand through his hair, instantly regretting his slip. “Never mind. I’m drunk. I should get home.” He places his glass carefully on the table, and starts to rise. Oh no, this is the closest he has come to telling this story and I’m not letting him escape.

  “You aren’t getting away with that shit,” I exclaim, grasping his arm and pulling back onto the couch. “Who is Nic?”

  Sighing, he scrubs his face with his hands and replies, “He was a friend, a roommate.”

  “Your youthful experiment?” I ask softly. This is where he typically changes the subject, or runs away.

  “Yes.” The terse reply is a warning to let it go, but I can’t.

  “Did you sleep with him?” I murmur. I know it’s an inappropriate question, but those seem to be going around tonight. Besides, I’m dying to know how far he has actually been with a man. I’d never do anything to hurt him or Abby, but I can’t deny my feelings for him. There have been a few kisses between us, and they were hot, but I don’t think he has accepted the possibility he may not be exactly…straight.

  “If I tell you, will you swear not to bring this up again?”

  “Yes.”

  “We were friends and roommates in college. He was gay. He used to flirt with me, but it was always sort of a joke.”

  “Until it wasn’t?”

  He nods, staring at his glass as he continues. “We were celebrating. It was a few days before graduation and we were drunk. He grabbed my hand and asked if I would miss him when he was gone. Before I could answer, he kissed me. One thing led to another.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but his face flushes a deep crimson.

  “How far, Airen?” I press.

  “Fuck,” he mutters, and swallows the rest of his drink. Tense seconds creep by while he glares into his glass, and just as I begin to think he won’t answer, he snaps, “As far as you and Troy have gone. It was only once, and we didn’t talk about it afterward. We graduated a few days later and went our separate ways.”

  He’s pissed and embarrassed, but I have to approach this with him. “Airen, have you ever considered the possibility you’re bisexual?” Straight guys don’t tend to trade blow jobs.

  “I’m married so I don’t think it matters. I’m going to go. Lane will be up early.” Jerking to his feet, he slips his
shoes on and picks up his jacket, moving as if his hair is on fire and his ass is catching.

  “Hey.” My hand catches his wrist, and he stares down at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

  He stares at my hand clamped to his arm and slowly rotates his wrist to loosen my grip. When I release him, his hand slides softly into mine, stealing my breath with a light squeeze and a sweep of his thumb across my knuckles. “You didn’t. We’re good.” The flashlight is flicked on, illuminating his smile as he stumbles out the door. Oh that smile is as devastating as his touch. “Just keep it between us.”

  He disappears into the darkened forest. God…what I would give to have him just once.

  * * * *

  Abby

  June and July pass in the beat of a hummingbird’s wing. Summer is always a busy season. The amount of work required to keep nine people fed can be overwhelming, but we manage nicely. Airen, Carson, and Eric have become skilled hunters, so we don’t lack fresh meat, and our freezers are never empty. Carson returns excited about a new prospect.

  “We saw a wild pig!” he exclaims, washing his hands before plopping down at the breakfast table.

  “Really?” I regard him skeptically. I haven’t seen a pig since the plague.

  “I swear! Ask Dad!”

  “I believe you. That’s amazing.” Lane squirms, and I shift him to my other hip. He’s getting heavy.

  “Dad says there must be more. They probably belonged to a nearby farmer and escaped their pen after he died. It doesn’t take long for hogs to become feral,” he lectures. “And they’re mean. We’re going to try to track them.” My look of concern is met by a roll of his eyes. “I’ll be careful. It’s just a pig. If you’re going to worry, save it for the mountain lions.”

  “There aren’t mountain lions in this part of the state,” I scoff, rumpling his sweaty hair.

  “There are some huge paw prints in the woods that say otherwise.” He swallows his last bite and hops up from the table. “Thanks, Mom. I’m going to meet Jayla.” He’s off without a care in the world, leaving me to fret over this new threat.