Healed by You

by Christy Pastore

  “Afton, are you here?”

  I walked around her kitchen staring up at the coffered ceilings admiring the clean lines. My fingers traced the edge of the white marble countertop. I studied the shaker cabinets and the glossy white subway tiles. Lines, they surrounded me everywhere. They were beautiful, untainted by cracks and went on forever. A line—a path had led Afton to Nicholas and vice versa.

  “Hey, Harlow,” the voice belonged to my brother.

  Expelling a heavy sigh, I pivoted to face him. As he approached me, the morning sunlight glinted off the platinum band that hugged his finger. It had never been more difficult to formulate words.

  “Did you two register somewhere so I that can at least buy a gift?” The words finally tumbled out of my mouth.

  Shifting the newspaper from one hand to the other, he rolled his eyes. Nicholas wanted to laugh, a hint of a smile played on the curve of his lip. “It’s good to see you, sis.”

  I stared at his wedding band, a circle that represented love and a lifetime commitment. It wasn’t a line. A line could only be intersected, a single spot at a time, a fleeting interaction before continuing. A circle . . . a circle was infinite, and infinitely connected, never to be broken.

  I didn’t know what hit me, but in that moment, I realized that Nicholas had made a commitment to his person—Afton, my best friend. My brother had married my best friend. Suddenly tears carved paths down my cheeks. My heart stuttered in my chest and then I was full on sobbing. I was crumbling in front of Nicholas and I hated that I wasn’t part of that moment when he married Afton. I hated that I wasn’t part of the moment when she married Nicholas. Even more I hated that I’d been pissed off when he had something monumental happen in life.

  He reached for me, pulling me into his frame. The rustling of newspaper mixed with the half-sobbing, half-hiccupping messy sound that flooded the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry, Nicholas,” I managed to choke out. “I’m happy for you really, I promise.”

  “Is that why you’re crying?” he asked, stroking my hair.

  “Yes, these are happy tears,” I retorted, untangling from our embrace. “I’m fine, I swear.”

  “All right, you’re okay.” Nicholas stepped around the corner.

  Smoothing my palms down my cheeks and blinked through my tears.

  Nicholas handed me a tissue. “Thank you,” I sniffled, and replied. When Nicholas pulled out a chair from the breakfast nook, the tears started all over again. He set the entire box down on the table and urged me to take a seat.

  “I’ve never known you to be a crier, Harlow.”

  “Well, you ran off and married my best friend and you look so damn happy,” I said, before drying my eyes and gracefully trying to blow my nose. Looking at my reflection in the microwave I was a serious hot mess. “Can I ask you a question?”

  As he stepped up to the coffee maker, he nodded. “Always.” Nicholas poured two mugs of coffee and then handed one to me.

  “How the hell did this happen?” When the question dropped from my lips, Afton sauntered into the kitchen wearing a pink and white striped pajama set. Her fishtail braid fell over her shoulder, as she leaned in to kiss Nicholas.

  “I’d be happy to answer that question—every gory detail,” she said.

  I blew the steam away from my mug. “No thanks, I just need the PG version.”

  Afton approached me, and then pulled me into a hug. “For the record, I wanted you there but your brother wanted to elope. Blame him.”

  We both laughed. “It’s all Nicholas’ fault.”

  Chuckling he folded his arms over his chest. “I get the feeling a lot of things are going to be my fault.” Nicholas pulled a mug from the cabinet and poured a cup of coffee for Afton, adding a splash of skim milk.

  Tears streamed down my face. “Fuck,” I blurted out, throwing my arms in the air. “You know how she takes her coffee.”

  Before I knew it, Afton was crying and Nicholas was handing her the box of tissues. “Okay, I love you both, but you have got to stop crying.”

  Pushing her shoulders back, Afton swiped away the tears. “All right, all right, we can do this.”

  With fresh mugs of coffee, the three of us gathered around the table. My phone buzzed, it was Grady asking how it was going. I swiped the screen and typed a quick message letting him know it was all good.

  Wrapping my hands around my mug, I said, “Tell me everything—PG version, please.”

  OUR DRIVE FROM THE airport to Sapodilla Bay was brief. No sooner than I had our luggage hauled into the master bedroom, Harlow was already in her bikini.

  “It’s beautiful here,” she said, dabbing sunscreen on her creamy skin.

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  After the Sundance Film Festival last January, Ronan received a tip on an island property. He proposed the idea of buying the estate to Alex, Matt, and me. Naturally, the three of us jumped at the chance to have a piece of tropical coastline at our disposal. I had the money. It was a no brainer investment.

  “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” she said, pouring a glass of champagne.

  “When you’re on vacation you can drink anytime you like.”

  “I guess that’s true.” She lifted the glass to her lips. “Did your sister decorate the house?”

  “Actually, she doesn’t even know about this place.”

  Ronan hired a design company for revamping some features. Alex took care of all the security arrangements and it was almost certain, Holliday and Ella had their hands in the interior decorating. The house was a mostly neutral color palette, with azure blue, teal and coral splashed throughout the house.

  I loved everything about this place. The views from each balcony and terrace were incredible, but the double day bed lounger suspended over the water’s edge was my favorite spot. We stepped onto the main terrace walking past the infinity pool down the wooden walkway inching us closer to the vibrant, calm blue waters.

  Harlow rested her hip against the railing. Needing to touch her, I leaned forward, brushing her hair out of the way to kiss the soft spot between her neck and shoulders.

  Her hands snaked around my neck. I kissed her long and hot, sliding my tongue against hers, tasting and savoring the feel of her soft lips against mine. I inhaled deeply getting my fill of salt and sand and Harlow. I wanted to remember this moment, catalog it to the index of my life.

  Without sounding like a real estate agent, I explained the layout of the compound to Harlow, because that’s what it was—15,000 total square feet with nine bedrooms in total, including a master pavilion that housed five bedrooms and two guest pavilions with two bedrooms each. As we walked the property, she held my hand listening to me ramble on about the history and culture of the island.

  I took her through the movie theater, and to the gym. “Here, you can work off the extra calories consumed from eating conch fritters, jerk chicken with rice, and my personal favorite, coconut crusted snapper tacos.”

  We made our way back to the main house. “If indoor activity isn’t your thing, there is basketball, tennis, paddle boarding, and kayaking.”

  “Well, if this acting and modeling thing doesn’t work out for you, Grady, I think you can find a career in real estate development.”

  “What do you want to do first?” I asked, hooking my thumb over my shoulder. “Are you hungry?”

  Her mouth curled up into a sexy smile. “Not for food.”

  I cocked a brow. “Where should I fuck you first?”

  Harlow gazed around the property, but I didn’t give her a chance to think about it a second longer. I hauled her up onto my shoulder, carrying her to the outdoor shower. With one hand buried in her hair, I tilted her head back.

  “Ahhh, Grady,” she gasped, digging her nails into my shoulder blades. “I want you.”

  My mouth trailed down her throat, my teeth scraping against her pulse. I cupped her ass, fisting at her thong, the scrap of fabric that separated me from the Promised Land betwee
n her legs.

  Crushing my lips to hers, I flipped on the spray. Using my hand, I tested the temperature before pushing her back against the wall.

  “It’s important to shower before getting into the pool.”

  “Yes, of course,” she agreed, smiling against my lips.

  Thank fuck, for bikini bottoms that tie at the sides. With a swift tug, the material fell to the ground. I spun her away from me, and she gave me a devious smile over her shoulder. Using my foot to widen her stance I rocked against her, my cock, hard and straining against my board shorts.

  She tilted her head back into the spray, water sliding over the expanse of her back and gliding over her perfect ass. Fuck me.

  I pushed my shorts down over my hips, gravity did the rest. Steam curled around our bodies as she whispered my name while removing her top. Licking every inch of her neck and shoulders, my hands glided up her ribcage palming her breasts.

  Arching against me, I groaned when she rubbed her ass against my cock. The sounds of her moans, and the feel of our wet slick skin gliding together made my dick hard as steel. I guided my cock against her, and she moaned. It was music to my ears—loud and needy.

  My fingers circled her clit, and with the snap of my hips I pushed inside her sweet pussy. “Hold on, sweetheart, this will be fast.”

  Pleas and moans alternated with breathy whispers as I thrusted deeper.

  “Oh, yes,” she cried out.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” I growled. “Let the whole island know that I’m fucking you.” Over and over I pounded into her, giving us both the release we’re craving. Fine tremors of pleasure built in my balls.

  “Ah, yes,” she groaned, pushing back. The sensation was almost too much to take.

  Her hands slapped against the stone tile, and my fingers dug into her hips. A scream left Harlow’s lips heralding her orgasm. The sound unleashed something possessive inside of me.

  She is mine. Only mine.

  In the deep recess of my mind, I knew what Harlow and I had was something special. This might have started even before the hair-brained scheme of mine. We were friends who needed each other in a bigger way than I expected. I don’t know how or when it happened, but Harlow had helped me heal the parts of my soul that needed it most.

  “Mr. James, welcome back to the island.” The voice with its musically accented English and Creole came from Augustin Lightbourne, the caretaker of the property Ronan had hired. I sat up from my position on the sundeck pulling Harlow with me.

  “Augustin, how are you, my man?” I asked, gripping his hand.

  “Very well, sir, just glad to have some people back here buzzing about.” His dark eyes shifted to Harlow. “And who is this stunning woman?”

  I laughed. “Augustin, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Harlow Trembley.”

  “Ah,” he replied nodding. “Trembley, that’s French Canadian.”

  Her cheeks tinged pink. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  My brow scrunched. French Canadian. I’d never given much thought to Harlow’s last name. After all this time, had I not taken the time to really get to know her? Impossible.

  “Have you found everything to your liking, Mr. James?”

  “We have.”

  “Mr. James, if you and your lady need anything—food, drinks, please let me know. Anything at all, it’s my pleasure.”

  “Augustin, there’s one thing, would it be possible to get some fresh pineapple?”

  “Of course, Mr. James, right away, sir.”

  Harlow looked up and smiled at me. “You think of everything.”

  My lips brushed against her temple. “When it comes to you, I do.”

  IT’S BEEN A LONG time since I felt complete and total relaxation. At least I had been relaxed until Heather Young burst through doors of the main house chased by Augustin and two men wearing grey shirts and dark shorts. Neither of whom, I’d seen before.

  “Heather, what the hell are you doing here?” Grady yelled.

  Heather struggled against Augustin’s hold, as he brought her front and center like a prisoner. Grady nodded to Augustin who then released the hold he had on her. I stood motionless, rooted to my spot. Stunned, was the most accurate feeling I could describe seeing Heather standing mere feet from me. The bags under her eyes were visible. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail. Red marks donned her neck and chest.

  A sick feeling spread through me, making me cold. Suddenly I understood—she was high.

  How did she know that we were here?

  Heather shot me an icy glare. “Yeah, you stay right there—slut,” she spat. Her words were delivered harsh and slightly broken.

  When Grady approached Heather, she attempted to step back only to find herself stumbling into the back of the couch. “Heather, I’m going to ask you again, what are you doing here?”

  Shaking her head, and pushing up from the back of the couch she inhaled deeply. “You brought her, here,” she sobbed, pointing at me. “You have the nerve to bring her here?”

  Grady shook his head. “You aren’t a part of my life anymore. We’re not married.”

  Confused I stared at Grady, irritation and sadness passing over his face. Heather’s eyes darted between the two of us and I swore my heart stopped for half a second. She is unwell.

  “But, why here?” she asked, the words were half-whine, half-cry.

  “Because she is my girlfriend, that’s why I brought her here.”

  Heather’s hands spread wide in front of her. “That’s just great, Grady, bringing your mistress to our vacation home,” she cried, sounding the same level of insane.

  “Heather, we’re not married anymore, remember?”

  “We spent our anniversary here, we are married!”

  Dread sank into the pit of my stomach, the feeling eerily resembling the moments before Harry dumped me. Grady rushed to me, gripping my wrists. My eyes fell to his forearms, something about those shirtsleeves rolled up showcasing his strength knocked me out of my headspace every time.

  “Harlow, look at me,” he said, his eyes filled with concern. “Trust in me, please.”

  Hearing his words, I nodded. “Of course.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered, his hands framed my face. “I’m sorry she’s here. Did I mention that I own this place?”

  “I think you left that part out of the tour.” I reached for him, weaving my fingers through his hair. “I want to kiss you, but given the current situation, I’ll refrain.”

  His eyes brightened. “I have words. So many things I want to say . . .”

  My hands fell to his shoulders, kneading the thick cords of his muscles. Tension lingered, but I felt it all evaporating under my touch. “I know, me too,” I whispered.

  A sharp thunderous crack echoed. My head jerked to find broken pieces of white porcelain surrounding Heather’s feet. Augustin lunged at her just as she picked up a jagged piece from the vase she’d destroyed. Knocking it from her grip, Augustin held onto her as one of the men slapped flex-cuffs around her wrists. The other man, who I now realized was a security guard, had moved to stand by Grady and me, that’s when my eyes focused on his gun.

  “Let me go!” she screamed, thrashing and kicking her feet against the tile.

  Grady’s blue eyes searched my face. “She’s not my responsibility, anymore, but . . .”

  I nodded, smoothing my hands over his grey t-shirt. “But, it would be cruel not to get her the help she needs.” My fist pounded against his chest. “I understand, Grady. I do,” I said, reassuring him.

  “God, I . . . how . . . how did I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

  I knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t for obvious reasons.

  “Is there anything I can do to help? Call anyone?”

  Lifting my hand to his mouth his lips brushed the back of my knuckles. “No, but thank you.”

  He looked over towards the seating area. I followed his gaze.
Heather writhed against Augustin’s firm grasp, tears spilling down her face. My heart went out to her. Grady raked a hand through his hair, and then turned away from me. Goosebumps swept across my skin, I’d never seen him look so pained.

  AFTER I PERSUADED THE highly-recommended doctor with an expensive fee to leave his golf game to give Heather a drug test, my security team took her to a guest house to sleep it off.

  I didn’t want Harlow to be here while I dealt with this matter, so I had Augustin arrange for her to spend the remainder of the afternoon being pampered. Harlow offered to stay. She even offered to talk to Heather—woman to woman. In Heather’s mental state, I wasn’t willing to risk it, although I appreciated the thought.

  I walked into the study, and then fired up the laptop. This was a delicate matter and I needed it handled with as much discretion as possible. A message from Haven lit up my phone, it contained all the details for the treatment facility. It had all been arranged. Thank you, Haven.

  Swiping the screen on my phone, I dialed Heather’s assistant, Drew. I didn’t wait for him to speak. “Heather’s in Turks and Caicos, and she’s using again. There’s a first-rate rehab facility in Georgia, she’s going there as soon as possible. I’m sending you the information, and I need you to be there when she arrives.”

  “I don’t work for Heather anymore,” he informed me.

  “Since when?”

  “Since she fired me,” he said hoarsely. “After the cheating story came out.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m hiring you for the foreseeable future. If you have plans cancel them.”

  Once I squared things away with Drew, Alex was next on my call list. I walked over to the bar in the corner of the room and then poured a glass of scotch.

  “Is the vacation that bad that you needed to call me? Are you in jail? Fuck, you got married, didn’t you?”

  “You’re a funny guy, Robertsen,” I said, staring down at the liquid in my glass. “Actually, my ex-wife is here, she showed up unannounced, obviously.”