by Tawna Fenske
“Tony!” The sharpness of her voice, the clench of her body told him she’d hit the edge already.
Her eyes went wide, locking with his as she slammed back against him. “Don’t stop. Please, oh God.”
She gripped the edge of the counter, words trailing off into a jumble of nonsense syllables as she slammed back against him. He tried to hold back, to make it last, to keep himself from tumbling over the edge.
But as her body squeezed around him, a guttural sound bubbled up his throat in a primal growl. “Baby, yes.”
She didn’t blink, didn’t break eye contact as she slammed back and he pushed forward, and somewhere in the middle they exploded together, joined by breath and flesh and something he still couldn’t identify but knew he’d been missing his whole life.
At last, her cries subsided. She kept moving, absorbing the aftershocks of his orgasm with her own soft pulses. In the mirror, she smiled into his eyes. “That was intense.”
“That was—” He didn’t have the words.
Or maybe he did.
He had one word, only one. He’d said it to her already, just moments before.
I love your kindness.
I love your passion.
I love your laugh.
But he hadn’t said what he really meant.
“I love you.” His voice came out raspy and quiet, so he said it again. “I love you, Kayla.”
She blinked at him in the mirror, then gave a nervous little laugh. “As a friend, you mean.”
He shook his head. “Not as a friend. As a guy who wants more than friendship. Who wants this—all of this—all of you—for as long as humanly possible.”
The words sounded jumbled and a little awkward, but he meant them with everything he had. She stared at him, not saying a word. What was she thinking?
“Tony.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I love you, too, but—” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “We want different things out of life.”
He let silence wash between them for a few beats. “We really don’t.” He took a deep breath. “I meant what I said that night. In your car? It wasn’t the booze talking.”
Slowly, she turned in his arms. She tilted her head back to look up at him, disbelief shimmering in those blue eyes. “Marriage,” she said, spelling it out with perfect bluntness. “Children. That’s what you’re saying?”
He nodded, slowly at first, then with more conviction. “I’m not proposing or suggesting you toss the pills or anything like that. I just—I want you to know I could get there. I mean, I’m almost there already. With you, I mean.”
In the other room, his phone began to ring.
“I’m right there with you.” Kayla shifted in his arms, glancing toward the room, where the phone continued to blare. “Do you need to get that?”
“Are you kidding?” He shook his head, drawing his palms down her bare back. “No. No way.”
She laughed and moved against him, her body soft and warm against his. “Do you mean that? What you just said—are you serious?”
“Positive.” He circled his palms over her back, memorizing the curve of her spine. “I’ve been thinking about it for days. Maybe longer. Maybe—God, I’m not good at this.”
She laughed and reached up to cup his face. “You’re better than you think,” she said. “For the record, I feel the same. I’ve probably been there a while, actually.”
He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. How unbelievable to hear those words. To say them himself. To know he had the balls to put them out there in the universe and hope for the best.
He’d come so fucking far.
The phone rang again. Kayla’s brow furrowed. “You sure you don’t need to get that?”
He shook his head, then paused.
Wait. That ringtone. It wasn’t his mother’s. It wasn’t his brother’s or Grady’s or anyone else he could just ignore.
In an instant, Tony’s blood ran cold. Every last drop drained to the tips of his toes.
“Tony?”
He barely heard her as the phone rang again. It was the ringtone he’d programmed years ago—the one reserved for emergencies only.
“Leo.”
Kayla’s brow furrowed. “Your friend from high school?”
Tony closed his eyes as the phone fell silent, then rang again. He wasn’t sure where to begin. Wasn’t sure how to tell her.
But he knew right then that everything was about to change.
Chapter Seventeen
Kayla dressed slowly in the too-bright bathroom, trying to pretend she wasn’t eavesdropping on Tony’s call.
“And she wouldn’t go to the hospital?”
Her skin prickled at the word hospital as she strained to hear the next words.
“No, you did the right thing. I appreciate you getting her home.”
More silence. Kayla peered through the half-open door to see Tony sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hand. The other hand gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
“There’s nothing else you could have done,” he was saying into the phone. “I’ll get there as soon as I can. Could you—would you mind checking in again? I hate to ask, but—”
From the bathroom door, Kayla could hear the mumble of a voice on the other end of the line. The mysterious Leo seemed to be reassuring Tony, but it did nothing to ease the grave look on his face. He’d managed to pull on a pair of sweatpants, but he had no shirt or socks. He shivered, and Kayla started toward him, intent on draping a blanket over his shoulders.
But the bark of his voice stopped her in her tracks. “Fucking asshole,” Tony growled. “I swear to God I’ll fucking kill him this time.”
She gripped the edge of the dresser. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never heard Tony’s voice like that. As she stood there, helpless, she watched his jaw clench and unclench.
“Thanks again, man,” he said into the phone. “I’ll start packing now.”
And then he switched off the phone.
For the longest time, he didn’t look up. Just sat there with his head in his hands, staring at the floor. Kayla started toward him again, grabbing her pashmina off the dresser.
That’s when he looked up. Kayla froze, struck by the hollow, haunted look in his eyes.
Hesitating, she stepped forward and draped the wrap over his shoulders. He didn’t resist. Just sat there, rigid and silent, as she arranged the pink pashmina around the broad expanse of tense muscle.
“Is everything okay?” she murmured, instantly regretting the question. “I mean, obviously, everything’s not okay. I just meant—”
“My mother is sick.” The words fell like loose gravel, clattering to the floor. “Really sick. And she refuses to go to the hospital.”
Kayla swallowed, trying to understand. “Is it a phobia or something?”
Tony snorted, shaking his head slowly. “Yeah. A fear of her fucking husband losing his shit over medical bills.”
She felt herself flinch. Tony noticed, too, and remorse filled his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said softly. “I understand you’re upset.”
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.” He shook his head again, jaw clenching. “Goddamn it. I’m no better than him.”
“What?” She blinked, trying to understand. “Tony, no.” She reached out and touched his shoulder, and it was his turn to flinch. “What do you need?”
His shoulder shook with fury or fear or some other emotion Kayla couldn’t quite place. He stared straight ahead like he wasn’t even seeing her. “I need—I need—fuck!” He raked his hands through his hair, eyes glittering. “I don’t know what I need to do.”
Kayla swallowed and circled a hand over his back. His skin felt like icy marble under the
pashmina. “Should we go right there? Or do you want to call first?”
“Fucking Bud screens her calls,” he said. “That won’t do any good.”
“Bud is her husband,” she said, piecing it together. “Your stepfather.”
He met her eyes, and the fury there almost made her step back. “Bud is my mother’s husband. He’ll never be my stepfather.”
Message received. “How can I help?”
He stared at her for a long time, gaze hooded with heartache and anger and something else she couldn’t read. “I need to go to her, I guess. I can make it in less than two hours. The drive isn’t that bad.”
Kayla blinked, registering his word choice. I, not we. Did he want to be alone, or could he use her support?
“I could join you,” she said softly. “You might need help. Or moral support.”
He met her eyes, throat moving as he swallowed. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” She touched his arm, startled again by the iciness of his flesh. “You’d be there for me, Tony. If I needed you.”
He winced. “I never even met your parents.”
“What?”
“You wanted me to, and I wouldn’t, and now you’re offering to drop everything and come with me to my shithole of a hometown to deal with this mess I can’t even begin to—”
“Breathe,” she said, tightening her grip on his arm. “Okay? Just breathe. I’m going with you, all right?”
He nodded, closing his eyes. “God, I don’t deserve you.”
His voice was so brittle, so filled with remorse, that Kayla’s eyes prickled with tears. “That’s not true. Come on. Get dressed and let’s go.”
He stood so abruptly that the wrap fell from his shoulders. Kayla stooped and picked it up, then turned to fold it into her suitcase.
They packed in silence, though Kayla could feel the tension radiating off of him. Even Fireball seemed to know something was off, whimpering as Kayla packed up his crate and looped the end of his leash around her wrist. “We’re going for a ride, boy,” she said. “Just a car ride, that’s all.”
But she knew that wasn’t all. Something big was happening, and she sensed she was missing pieces of the puzzle.
“Want me to drive?” she offered as Tony slung their bags into the back of the Jeep.
She expected him to say no. To insist he needed to be in control, to blow off steam, to grip the wheel in some kind of cathartic exercise.
He stood clutching the keys in one hand, hesitation in his eyes. “Thanks.” He handed them over. “I’ll put the address in the GPS.”
While he fiddled with the app, Kayla took a moment to get her bearings. She’d gone from the best sex of her life to hearing the words she’d always needed to hear from Tony to some unknown awfulness in less than ten minutes. She’d barely had time to dress and wash up following their first condom-free encounter. She glanced at Tony, aware that his thoughts were a million miles away.
“Head toward the highway on-ramp,” he said. “The GPS will take it from there.”
She wasn’t sure how long she drove in silence. Two minutes? Ten? As she steered onto the highway and headed west, Tony reached over and put a hand on her knee. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” She kept her eyes on the road, not sure what else to say. “Let me know if you need me to stop for food or drinks or—”
“Leo is my best buddy from high school, but he’s also the guy who keeps an eye on my mom.” He said it so abruptly, it took Kayla a few beats to catch up. “We trained together and did our rookie year as smokejumpers out of the same base.”
“He’s a smokejumper?”
“He’s a pilot now. Air tankers, the big planes that drop water or retardant on fires.”
“So air attack, like you.”
“Yes.” Tony’s throat moved as he swallowed. “Leo quit jumping when he had a kid, but he’s still part of the same world. He flies a bunch of different kinds of planes and does a lot of the big drops around here.”
Kayla nodded, absorbing the information. She’d heard smokejumpers speaking in awe of tanker pilots, admiring the bravado and precision it took to do the job. “He works for the Forest Service like you?”
“Nah, he actually owns the whole damn air tanker company,” Tony said. “Took it over after his dad died. He’s got contracts with the Forest Service and we operate out of the same bases, so I see him anytime I’m up here.” A long pause while Tony dragged a hand through his hair. “I…uh…never actually see my mother when I’m there. Leo looks out for her, though.”
“I see.” She didn’t—not really—but she knew not to push for details.
“After I left, I couldn’t go home,” he said slowly. “I tried once, but Bud—Bud made it impossible to see her.”
She glanced over at him, trying to understand. “He’s controlling, you mean?”
Tony snorted. “That’s the understatement of the century.”
Some of the pieces began to fall together. Tony’s reluctance to go home. His estrangement from his mother.
“You’ll see when we get there,” he said grimly. “Maybe it’ll make sense.”
She wasn’t sure it would, but she kept driving, kept following directions as the GPS led them west, then north, into the small town where Tony had grown up. They weren’t that far from the Canadian border, and the air smelled crisp and clean when Tony cracked the window. She watched him breathe deeply, closing his eyes as his chest rose and fell.
Her heart ached for him as she took a sharp left, then a right onto a small suburban street. The homes here were tidy and mid-sized, with neatly trimmed lawns. Nothing unusual; nothing too different from the home where Kayla had grown up. Still, she couldn’t help feeling edgy and uneasy.
“Right here,” Tony said, switching off the GPS. “The white one on the corner.”
She pulled up to the curb and killed the engine before turning to face him. “Do we need to call first?”
“No.” He grabbed the door handle, looking grim. “It’ll give her more chance to make up a story.”
He started to open the door, then stopped and turned to face her. “I’m sorry.” He reached for her hands, and the pain in his eyes made her chest hurt. “So damn sorry for this.”
She frowned, not sure she understood. “Tony, I want to be here for you. To help if I can.”
He shook his head slowly, eyes filled with sadness. “There’s nothing anyone can do to help.”
Then he let go of her hands, pushed open the door, and got out.
…
He trudged up the walk to the front door, conscious of his heart pounding in his ears, frustrated that his body had such a visceral reaction after all this time. His palms leaked sweat, and his gut churned, sour and gravelly.
At the top of the steps, he turned to wait for Kayla. He hated bringing her here. Hated what she was about to witness. Not that he knew, exactly. But it wouldn’t be good.
As she touched her hand to his elbow, he felt the slightest unraveling of tension in his shoulders. He pressed the doorbell, listening for the sound of footsteps.
Nothing.
He rang again, waiting. Leo had said it was bad. That she’d collapsed in the grocery store in front of everyone. She’d fought like hell when Leo had tried to take her to the hospital, insisting it was no big deal.
“Bud doesn’t like it when I go to the doctor.” That’s what she’d said, struggling into her car while Leo tried to argue.
Thank God his buddy was looking out for her. He was a better son to Tony’s mother than Tony had ever been. If only he’d answered her call a few days ago. If only he hadn’t let anger cloud his judgment.
Of all the regrets he had around relationships, the ones with his mother were heaviest to carry.
He rang the bell a t
hird time.
Still no footsteps. No barking dog, either. There had been one once. A little brown-and-white terrier named Chi-Chi. His mom had loved that dog. She’d picked him out at the Humane Society a month after Tony’s dad walked out. Chi-Chi used to snuggle with his mother, licking her face when she’d cry and burrowing under the covers to keep her warm at night.
“The dog’s got to go.” That was the first thing Bud said when he moved in. “Damn thing’s always underfoot.”
His mom’s eyes had filled with tears. “But Bud—”
“Who pays the bills here, Connie?”
His mother had lowered her eyes, clutching the dog to her chest. “You do.”
Tony had been the one to find a new home for Chi-Chi. The dog went to live with Leo and his mother. Was Chi-Chi still alive? Probably not, but he’d have to ask.
“What should we do?”
Kayla’s voice yanked Tony back to the present. Back to this spot on his mother’s front porch. The worry in her eyes for a woman she’d never met nearly broke his heart.
“I’ll try one more time.” He rang the bell again, already knowing there’d be no answer.
Cupping his hands against the window beside the door, he peered inside. A few things had changed in the years since he’d last set foot in his mother’s house. There was Bud’s recliner parked in front of the TV. The television was new, a big-screen model he knew Bud would have laid claim to immediately, insisting his wife couldn’t be trusted with the remote. Tony squinted at the spot under the end table where his mom’s sewing basket used to sit.
The basket had been replaced by a milk crate filled with Sports Illustrated. As Tony surveyed the room, his gut sank. So few traces of his mother remained. The artwork she’d loved, the china cabinet filled with family heirlooms—all of it had been replaced by Bud’s things.
Wait, no. There it was—the lacy wall hanging. His hands balled into fists as he stared at the words his mother had cross-stitched so long ago.
Happiness is being in love with your best friend.
He blinked hard, tearing his eyes off the wall and scanning the alcove toward the kitchen. As his gaze skimmed the counter, it snagged on something else belonging to his mom. A shoe, flat-heeled and plain, sticking out at an odd angle.
