by Marie James
“He’s pretty pissed, Cariño. I don’t think him being around Phoenix is such a good idea. We don’t want him to learn violence is the way to solve his problems.”
I lunge for him, but her soft hand on my chest stops me.
“You only act this way when you’re high.” The sureness of her words kills any hope I had of convincing her to let me see my son.
I take two steps back, nearly falling on my ass when the heel of my boot catches the edge of the first step.
Douche raises an eyebrow. Can’t even stand up straight, his eyes scream.
Fucked up part is when I look at Fallyn, her eyes are saying the same thing, but not with expectation, disappointment. She believed me when I told her I was clean, and from the look on her face, I just destroyed any trust I built over the last week.
I hold my hands up in surrender and take a deep breath, knowing begging and pleading with her to believe me isn’t going to work, especially with that asshole right there whispering in her ear. “Okay. I’ll go.”
I fight every urge in my body telling me to turn around and beg as I walk back to my truck. I want to plead my case, prove to her this isn’t what it looks like, but at the same time, I’m disappointed in her readiness to accuse me of using again.
If either one thinks I’m throwing in the towel, giving up on my chance to have my son in my life, they better think again. As much as it hurts to admit, I know I can live without Fallyn, I just don’t want to. My recovery was centered on getting clean for myself, not using the idea of anyone else to help me stay clean. My counselor drilled into my head that my sobriety can’t be based on another soul, including Phoenix. He hammered in that even if the courts took away any and all rights, I had to be strong enough to survive that without using. It’s why it took so long for me to show up on her doorstep.
I stop by the house to grab the toys I should’ve put in my truck before I went to work yesterday and head back out. One more stop before I go back over there to prove I’m better than the man she met that first night—to prove the man who chose pills over her is long gone and never coming back.
Chapter 41
Fallyn
“What the fuck was that?” I hiss, turning on my heel and facing off with Julian the second the door closes on Blaze’s retreating back.
He shrugs. “You invited me. If you didn’t want to throw up a wall between you and him, why am I here?”
We haven’t spoken very often in the two years since he moved out. I keep up with him mostly on social media, which consists of sporadic, generic posts.
“You’re not here because of him. I invited you before he was ever back in the picture.” I sweep my hands over my hair, feeling disheveled and exposed after the last few minutes. “You’re here because Phoenix loves you.”
He huffs a laugh. “He doesn’t even remember me.”
“Whose fault is that?” I try to walk past him, but he grabs my arm, not rough, but with an authority I can’t ignore.
“You don’t get to be mad at me for leaving. You don’t get an opinion on how I chose to heal.” His eyes find my lips, but it’s not in the same way Blaze looks at me. Blaze watches my lips like he wants to worship me, care for me. The way Julian’s looking right now causes shivers of a different kind. He looks like he wants to devour me, own me, like he has something to prove.
“Have you healed? You being here after years, does that mean we can be friends again?” My voice waivers with something akin to pleading. I’ve missed him.
“Friends? Like what? Hang out on the weekend and talk about mundane stuff?” His eyes harden, but he releases my arm. “If you think that’s possible, you never loved me the way I loved you.”
“Exactly,” I spit out, angry he’s throwing that back in my face, still pissed at Blaze for having the nerve to show up tonight high. “I told you that years ago. I can’t love you like that. It’s the reason you left.”
“I remember it like it was yesterday, Cariño. I don’t need to be reminded.” He leans in, whispering in my ear, “I can make you forget him. One night is all it will take.”
I shove against his chest. “What has gotten into you?”
He steps back, gripping his head with both hands. “I thought I could do this, thought I could see you, but I can’t. It’s like a fresh, gaping wound.”
“Who was that woman on the lawn?” I almost say girl, but I know Julian wouldn’t risk getting into trouble over someone underage.
“The one I’m going to fuck until I forget about you.” Leaning in, he kisses my forehead, and it feels like a forever goodbye. “She’s my redemption.”
Without another word, he walks out the front door, and I turn to the mirror in the hallway foyer, using a few moments to get my warring emotions under control. Wiping under my eyes and straightening my already perfect hair, I walk back into the living room, gearing up to send everyone home. I’m already over this day.
Probably just as tired as I am, the parents of the other children from Phoenix’s daycare gather their sugared-up kids and leave without a fuss. Brittney and Dean are the only ones left, both sitting on the couch keeping an eye on my son as I straighten the house from the destruction five toddlers caused in less than two hours.
The front door opens and a determined Blaze walks toward me, not even bothering to knock. Fear washes over me as he stalks in my direction.
“Where’s the bathroom?” he grunts as he grips my arm and shuffles me down the hall.
I don’t answer, but the bathroom door is open from the party, so he ushers me inside and nudges me to sit on the edge of the tub. The pharmacy bag I hadn’t noticed until now crinkles like gun shots in the bathroom.
He pulls a box out and begins to open it.
“What are you doing?” I manage to ask.
“This test is for seven different classes of drugs. Amphetamines, opiates, marijuana.” I watch, stunned, as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his cock out inches from my face.
“The fuck, Blaze?” I can’t take my eyes off it.
“Keep looking at it like that, beautiful, and I’ll be so hard, I’ll end up pissing on your wall.” It twitches in his hand and I stifle the groan wanting to escape.
“Why am I watching you take a drug test? You can do this without me being in here,” I say, coming back to the actual issue at hand.
He shakes his head. “You need to know, without a doubt, I’m clean. I’m not going to leave any room for doubt. I don’t want you wondering if I brought some other dude’s piss in to the bathroom. Watch,” he insists.
And I do. A foot from my face, Blaze urinates into the provided cup from the test kit.
“My go-to drugs have always been pills and coke. Marijuana in a pinch. This tests for all of that.” His eyes find mine as he places the cup on the counter and zips up. “I’m clean, Fallyn. I don’t want you to ever doubt that, but if you do, I bought four more tests. I’ll get more, but I bought the pharmacy out. I’ll keep them at my house as well.”
He shows me the instructions on the test and how to read them, even pulling up pictures of the same test on his phone because the black and white pictures just aren’t good enough. I can’t even explain the relief that washes over me when his test proves he’s clean.
“I’ll take one a day. Hell, two a day if that’s what you need. That shit doesn’t control me anymore.” Sincerity fills his eyes, and not for the first time since he came back, I want to wrap my arms around him and kiss his perfect lips.
“Thank you.” Two words that encompass so much. Thank you for getting clean, for coming back, for loving our son.
Reaching up, I trail my finger down his cheek. He’s exhausted; I can see that now that the worry of relapse is no longer a concern.
“I should go,” he whispers. “I’m going to crash soon.”
My heart hammers in my chest, not wanting to see him walk away again today.
“Tomorrow,” he says, eyes pleading. “Can we keep our plans?”
I
nod my head, gut clenching when he cleans up from the test and turns to leave the bathroom.
“Stay,” I offer.
“Some other time, maybe. I need to grab a shower and pass out for a few hours.”
“You can sleep in the guest bedroom. Shower here.” A grin tugs at the corners of his tired mouth. “I have some of your clothes. You know…from before.”
A warmth I’ve longed to see fills his eyes at my confession. I have the urge to assure him I packed in a hurry and just never unpacked, but that’s a defense mechanism, an attempt to protect myself, so I keep my mouth shut.
“Jump in the tub,” I urge. “I’ll bring you some clothes.”
I leave without another word, praying he chooses to stay.
“What’s going on?” Brittney asks when I step into the hallway. “I was about to call the cops.”
“He’s clean,” I whisper, tugging her arm until we’re locked inside my bedroom. “When he left earlier, he went to the store and brought back drug tests. I asked him to stay.”
“You what?”
I ignore her as I walk into the closet and tug the lid of one of his boxes open. Pulling out a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, I find her glaring at me when I walk back out.
“He’s exhausted, Brit. I offered him the spare bedroom. The last thing I can deal with right now is worrying about him getting into an accident on the way home.” I sniff the clothes, hating how his scent no longer clings to the fabric.
“You still love him.” Sad eyes peer into mine.
“I’ll always love him. He’s the father of my child.”
She shakes her head. “No, you love him, love him. You’re practically fucking giddy at the idea of him just sleeping in the house.”
“I’m a grown woman,” I say, walking past her.
“I know that.” I feel her breath near my ear. “And he sure as fuck knows it.”
I yelp when she slaps my ass on her way back to the living room and smiles as I knock on the bathroom door. That slap is all but verbal approval from my best friend—not that I need it.
The sounds of the shower running fill the space on the other side of the door. When my knock goes unanswered, I open the door and rush to place the clothes on the closed toilet lid.
“Fallyn?”
“Just bringing your clothes.” The curtain pulls back a few inches, revealing his chest, and my breath hitches. The sight of him is amazing, even better than a few days ago at the water park, and I’m certain it’s the trail of bubbles gliding down to his...
I turn my eyes away before I do or say something stupid, like strip naked and join him. “I didn’t keep any of your underwear, but I have a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out here for you. The guest bedroom is right next door. You’re welcome to sleep as long as you need. Even if it’s until we go to the park tomorrow.”
I hear his thank you, but I’m halfway out the door and don’t respond.
“Birthday boy was falling asleep, so I went ahead and laid him down,” Brittney says when I walk back into the living room. She stands from the couch, kisses my forehead, and makes her way to the door. “We’re going to go. Long drive back. Love you.”
“Thanks for coming. I’m getting you back for that drum set.” I grin at her as Dean kisses my cheek and follows her out of the house, then head back down the hallway, needing to check on Phoenix before I can relax. The bathroom door opens just as I’m passing it and the smell of soap and warm steam hits my face as my jaw hits the floor, struck stupid at the sight of Blaze’s shirtless chest and that tiny line of hair leading into sweats I don’t remember being so tight.
His hand cups my jaw, his breath tickling my lips before his nearness even registers. One sweep, a light brush of his lips on mine, is all I get, and I whimper when he pulls away.
“Goodnight,” he says before closing himself into the spare bedroom.
My lips tingle for what feels like forever after that brief kiss and I wonder how in the hell I’m going to sleep knowing what is right down the hall from me.
Chapter 42
Blaze
Waking up knowing my wife and son are nearby cleanses my soul. I glance at the time on my cell phone. Middle of the damn night and my body is humming. It’s almost perfect. My head knows she took a big step yesterday. Trusting me under her roof isn’t something I take lightly, but my body hasn’t gotten the memo.
My cock strains against the thin fabric of the sweats I’ve had since high school, as if he senses her in the other room. I climb out of bed after spending twenty minutes convincing myself crawling in beside her is the best idea in the universe and the only way my body is going to calm down enough to get more rest.
Feeling like a thief in the night, I creep down the hall toward her room, stopping for a few seconds to peek into Phoenix’s room. He’s sleeping soundly, as if he has no cares in the world, and I love her even more for taking such good care of him despite all I’ve done.
Her door is open and I slide in, lifting the corner of the blanket and doing my best not to jostle her as I slide inside.
I jolt, startled, when her hand touches my chest.
“You’re awake?” Please don’t ask me to leave.
“I have insomnia sometimes,” she explains as I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss her knuckles before placing it back over my heart. “Some days it feels like the weight of the world is on my back and I just can’t settle enough to go to sleep.”
“You should talk to your doctor about it,” I tell her. I shift my hips further on the bed and nearly groan when her leg wraps over the top of mine. The heat from her core on the front of my thigh shoots a tingle straight to my cock.
“I did,” she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. “He wanted to put me on Ambien, but I didn’t want to take any pills.”
Remorse hits me hard. She refuses to take what she may need to sleep because she’s afraid she’ll end up like me? She must feel the change in the atmosphere because her fingers flex on my chest.
“I didn’t want to take them because I wouldn’t hear Phoenix if he needed me at night.”
I nod, but it doesn’t abate the regret always at the edge of my thoughts. I’ve tortured myself with it for the last two years.
I feel the wetness of her tears when she rests her head on my shoulder and hold her tighter against me, wishing I could heal her, take all the pain away and make it like it never even happened, but I can’t. Tears sting the back of my eyes and I let them fall, refusing to hide any weakness in front of her. Hiding and trying to cope with my issues on my own led, in great part, to feeding my addiction.
She clings to me, her silent accommodation of my grief warming my heart. Kissing the top of her head, I’m thankful for her ability to make everything right in my world.
“You hurt yourself more than anyone else,” she whispers against my chest.
I shake my head, refusing to let her minimize her own pain. “I’ll never forgive myself for the things I’ve done, the words I’ve said, or the way I treated you. It kills me that even one of your tears is because of me.”
“You’re here now,” she concedes, tilting her head, eyes finding mine in the dim light.
“From now on, beautiful,” I vow.
Without apology, my lips find hers, her warmth and taste adding a healing hand to my battered heart.
Instead of pulling away, she shifts her body so she’s closer and kisses me back as if it’s something she’s wanted to do for years. My hands roam over her, reacquainting myself with the warmth of her skin, the softness of her flesh. The gentle rocking of her hips is the only permission I need to take this further.
I’ve pictured this moment more times than I’m comfortable admitting, but making love to my wife again has been a lofty goal I never thought I’d reach.
Gripping her ass, I turn our bodies so I’m hovering over her, and without a word, she spreads her legs so I can settle in between them.
I groan as I press against her, and my mouth leaves hers
, only to move to the spot just below her ear I know drives her insane. Her short fingernails dig into my back and I hope she marks me. As much as I want to make slow, passionate love to her, I also want her to make me bleed, retaliate against the time I forced between us. I grind harder into her, and those nails increase in pressure.
She’s only wearing a tank top and smooth cotton panties, but the thin layers of fabric drive me mad. I push her shirt up, my mouth leaving her neck and finding her tight nipple without hesitation. With her tank shifted to reveal both amazing breasts, my hands seek to master her skin, leaving no inch untouched.
I smile against the swell of her breast when her hips rotate against my rock hard cock with delicious precision. Refusing to allow one more second of her need unattended, my mouth leaves hot kisses past her belly button. I lace my fingers into the sides of her panties and follow them down with my mouth, causing her to cry out when my lips and stiff, probing tongue wrap around her delicate knot of pulsing nerves.
“Oh God!” she hisses in unrestrained pleasure, chanting, “Please, please, please.”
Deft hands grip her body, forcing her to still, and she grumbles her complaint incoherently.
“Don’t torture me,” she all but begs.
“Never,” I say, taking another long lick up her center. “So sweet.”
Grunting my approval when her hands grip my head, I devour her with the innate skill I perfected years ago. My mouth remembers her body just as my hands do. Releasing her hip, nimble fingers find her heat, sliding through her desire.
She detonates with a moan loud enough to wake our son, but that doesn’t stop her from grinding against my mouth, riding out every wave of her release.
Her toes hook into the waistband of my sweats as I rise over her, permitting my aching cock to rest against the wet flesh at the apex of her thighs. I wipe my mouth on my shoulder, my lips finding hers as I sink the first exquisite inch inside her.
“Jesus,” I grunt, stilling my hips in an attempt to gain a semblance of control. My arms tremble so hard, I lower to my elbows, bracketing her in my embrace so I don’t fall and crush her. “So hot. Fuck, you’re gripping me like a fist.”
