Until It Fades

by K. A. Tucker

  I steel my jaw. “I’m still furious with you.”

  The corners of his mouth twitch. He reaches over his head to grab the back of his T-shirt and peel it off. “Better?”

  “No,” I deny, trying to maintain my stern face as I shamelessly stare at his broad, firm chest.

  “Fine.” His hands make quick work of his belt buckle and zipper, unfastening them to hang open, revealing the prominent bulge beneath. He fishes a condom from his pocket.

  “What are you doing?”

  His brow quirks playfully. “I’ll give you . . . three guesses.”

  A deep throb begins to ache between my legs as I watch him tear the foil between his teeth and, untucking his hard length from his briefs, sheath himself. “But we can’t. Not here.”

  Gripping my backside, he lifts me up to pin me against the wall and guides my legs around his hips. His lips settle on my collarbone. “Why not?”

  “How will you . . .” My words fall off with my sharp inhale as he pushes into me. “What about your leg?”

  “All my weight’s on my good one.”

  “It’s strong enough?”

  His deep chuckle vibrates inside my chest. “You really have no idea what kind of endurance I have, do you?”

  I have noticed he doesn’t tire easily . . .

  He sinks deeper into me. “Still mad at me?”

  “Furious,” I whisper, unable to keep the soft moan from slipping out.

  His muscles cord beneath my fingertips as he thrusts into me.

  And all thoughts besides how intensely I care for this man are swiftly pushed aside.

  Chapter 32

  “If the door is closed, you have to knock,” I say slowly, hoping that hearing it for a third time will make it finally sink in.

  “But I didn’t know he’d be changing!” Her bottom lip wobbles.

  There’s no point reminding Brenna that only three minutes before she strolled in on Brett naked in my bedroom, she had watched him walk out of the shower in nothing but a towel and I specifically told her not to go into my room. “It’s okay.” I push a lock of frizzy hair off her forehead. Unlike my fine strands, which stay poker straight no matter what season, the summer humidity wreaks havoc on Brenna’s curls. “But now you know, right?” And now I know that we need to install a lock.

  She bobs her head up and down. Then frowns. “But what if you’re in there, too?”

  Then you definitely don’t barge in. “If the door is closed, you knock. And wait.”

  She pauses. “Is Brett going to be staying here all summer?”

  “He’ll probably be here a lot, yeah.” I haven’t told her about the Gingerbread House yet. I’m not sure how to begin to explain that.

  “Why?”

  “Because I like spending time with him. And I think he likes spending time with us.” I pinch her nose. “And you like it when he’s here, too, remember? You’re the one who kept asking about him.”

  Her mouth pouts. “But I don’t like that I can’t cuddle with you at night when he’s here.”

  “Aren’t you getting a bit old for that? Don’t forget that you’re turning six in five days!” I say, even as I tell myself that I’ll willingly curl up in bed with her no matter how old she is.

  “Are we going to Diamonds for my birthday again?”

  I smile. Breakfast at the diner for Brenna’s birthday has become a tradition. Some of the regulars even show up with small gifts for her. “Leroy’s already talking about the special waffles he’s going to make you.”

  “Yay! What else are we going to do for my birthday?”

  “I’m not sure yet. It’ll be a surprise. And I know things are changing a little bit. But it’s all in the best way.” I shut off the light. “Good night.”

  Brett’s lying in my bed when I get to my room. And he doesn’t look particularly happy.

  “What’s wrong?”

  With a sigh, he holds his phone out. “Simone just sent me this.”

  I crawl in next to him.

  A picture of Brett and me kissing on my front porch fills the screen, with the caption, “Brett Madden Falls in Love with Good Samaritan.”

  I try to ignore the way my heart stutters at the love part. “This is from three days ago.” I’m in my pink sundress. “How the hell did they . . .” My stomach sinks with realization. “That little asshole, Gibby!” He was back there cleaning up when Brett came. He must have taken the picture. “How did he even know who to sell it to?”

  “Somebody probably left their number at Rawley’s, told him to call if he got a money shot.”

  I sink into my pillow with a resigned sigh. “Please tell me I’m not back to security guards and photographers hovering around my driveway at all hours of the day and night.”

  “No. I don’t think it’ll turn into that again.” Brett sets his phone onto my nightstand. “But you and Brenna should come and stay with me.”

  “It’s too far, Brett. My family’s here, my job—”

  “Not in Philly. Here, at the house. I told you I was gonna live there.”

  “I thought you were kidding.”

  “I have no reason to be in Philly right now. I can drive in for doctor and physical therapy appointments.” He rolls onto his side to study me. “So? What do you think?”

  “But what will Brenna say? I mean, all of a sudden we’re living at the Gingerbread House, with you—”

  “And a dog.”

  “Stop it! I’m being serious.”

  “So am I.”

  I shake my head. “And a dog. Even better.”

  “I don’t see the problem. She’ll love it.”

  “Exactly.” I stare at my ceiling. “She’ll fall in love with the house and the dog. She’s already completely enamored with you.”

  “Can’t blame her.”

  He’s making jokes and I’m smiling, but it’s not really funny. “You can’t give something like that to a kid and then take it away.”

  Brett frowns. “Who’s gonna take it away?”

  “I don’t know. Life. Reality.”

  The whirl of my noisy secondhand fan fills the long moment of silence in my room. And then calloused fingers seize my chin, steering me back to face his aqua-blue eyes. “Are you planning on going somewhere?”

  “No.” Never.

  “Well, then, I don’t know what you’re worried about.”

  He doesn’t get it. “I’m a mother. I always have to worry about the consequences. I can’t do things on a whim.”

  “This isn’t on a whim. Trust me, I like to weigh things out, too. And no one’s taking anything away from anyone. Got it?” He leans in to press his lips against my mouth. “I want you and Brenna to stay with me at the house. Tell her it’s just for a week or two, if that makes you feel better.”

  I sigh. “What about her birthday? We always have breakfast at Diamonds, but I don’t want to bring her there if there are photographers again.”

  “We can do something for her at the house, with everyone.”

  “It’s in five days, Brett. There’s no furniture at the house.”

  “There will be by then. Simone ordered a bunch of stuff for me. It’s being delivered tomorrow.”

  “She must have loved doing that.”

  He chuckles. “She called me an asshole at least a dozen times.” Brett’s phone vibrates noisily against the nightstand. He groans. “That’s her now. They’re hounding her for a confirmation.” He retrieves his phone and studies the picture again. “Do you think she can pass this off as a friendly greeting?”

  I study the way our bodies are pressed flush against each other. “Only if you start groping everyone.”

  “So . . . what do you want her to say?” He looks to me expectantly. “She can decline to comment, but that usually makes them more annoying.”

  “Because they’ll be looking for the story we’re trying to hide.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I guess there’s really no point hiding this anymore,
now that Gibby sold that picture. It’s only a matter of time.” And I don’t feel the same need I did before, to hide my feelings for Brett. A part of me wants to scream about us from the rooftops. Brett is mine. Brett wants me. “So she should just confirm it,” I say, before I can chicken out.

  “Works for me.” I watch his fingers fly over the keys.

  “Oh, my God!” I lunge for his phone, but his reach is too wide and I end up draped over his chest, the screen visible but out of reach. “She knows not to say that, right?”

  “She’s a terrible publicist if she doesn’t,” he says, chuckling.

  I watch as the three dots dance on the screen.

  Send me an appropriate response by 9 am tomorrow.

  P.S. Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that about her.

  “Where is the birthday girl!” Keith’s voice booms dramatically from somewhere unseen, carrying through the giant vacant house, out onto the covered porch.

  Brenna squeals as he appears in the doorway, squinting against the setting sun.

  “Perfect timing.” She’s already torn through the presents from my parents, and Lou and Leroy. All that’s left is the bike that Jack, Emma, and I went in on, currently hiding in the garage.

  “You do that yourself, Singer?” Jack mocks him, nodding at the rectangular box, wrapped in fuchsia paper and adorned with bows.

  “My mom did, actually,” Keith admits as he sets the box in front of a wired Brenna, earning Jack’s burst of laughter.

  “Why so late?” I ask.

  “I got held up with work.” He exchanges a round of greetings, ending with a frown. “Where’s Misty?”

  “Late as usual,” Lou mutters, still picking at her burger. Leroy couldn’t get a line cook in to cover off breakfast this morning so we shifted Brenna’s little party to dinner and Leroy brought his renowned patties with him.

  “Actually, I’m not sure if she’s gonna make it.”

  “She’s never missed Brenna’s birthday,” Keith reminds us.

  “Yeah, she had plans in Philly.” To visit DJ. And when she suggested bringing him here, and I said no, she didn’t take it too well. “She may show up later. I gave her the code to the gate.”

  Brett had an iron gate installed two days ago, along with a small camera, cleverly concealed at the bottom of a coach lantern light, angling down at the end of the driveway. And cameras around the property. And a full security system for the house. I tried to argue that it was overkill, but he politely pointed out that his mother couldn’t safely stay here without it. I shut up after that.

  “You gave Misty the code?” Keith’s brows spike as he turns to Brett. “You might want to think about changing that tonight.”

  Brett chuckles softly. “Noted.”

  “Oh, man!” Jack’s bark of laughter carries across the long stretch of grass behind us. “You’re gonna find her going through your hamper tonight.”

  “Jack!” my mother scolds.

  “Or soaping your back up for you in the shower.”

  Even my dad and Leroy can’t help but laugh.

  “All right . . . Leave our slightly crazed friend alone. Hey, Jack?” I nod toward the garage.

  “Let me go with you. There’s a code to get in.” Brett shifts from his spot leaning against the wall, his hand grazing my shoulder gently on the way past.

  “I’m coming. I wanna see your Benz.” Keith trails the two of them out.

  “He’s certainly put a lot of money into security for this house,” my mother says, obsessively collecting the latest wrapping and paper plates. Leroy had barely put his plate down before it was in the ready trash bag. Lou even made an idle comment about how she wished her staff was half as on top of clearing tables as my mom. While she didn’t mean it as a slight, I guess Hildy Wright didn’t like being compared to Lou’s truck stop diner staff and, well . . . at least it stopped at a tense moment and a dirty look.

  I hear the countless unspoken questions and thoughts behind my mother’s simple remark.

  Mr. and Mrs. Chase may have had no clue who they were selling their old Victorian mansion on Jasper Lane to, but most of the town has figured it out by now, after seeing the gates being installed and me driving in and out of here a few times. The media certainly has, but aside from the occasional car pulling up and a long-lens camera pointed at the house, they haven’t been too bad.

  I hadn’t quite figured out exactly what I was going to tell my family about all this tonight, but then Brenna walked out to the patio with my sketchbook and announced that Brett bought her the Gingerbread House and it was going to be an inn.

  “It’s his money, and his house,” I say, very simply.

  The returning look from my mother, as well as Lou and Emma, tells me they’re not buying that for a second. Dad and Leroy have the good sense to keep their heads down.

  Brenna’s pursing her lips as she quietly counts her presents, and I know she’s mentally noting that there’s nothing from me or her uncle and aunt yet. Wondering if we somehow forgot.

  “What’s taking them so long?” I wonder.

  A nearby neighbor’s dog starts barking wildly, followed by a second. And a third, along with some shouts. I’m on my feet, ready to go around front and check.

  And then suddenly a ball of white-and-gray fluff comes tearing around to the back, followed quickly by a sprinting Jack and Keith.

  The fluff is wearing a pink ribbon.

  “Oh, my—”

  “Stella!” Brenna takes off running across the lawn, her earlier presents forgotten. The husky puppy veers and darts toward her, its tongue lolling. They tumble in a heap of giggles and fur.

  “Sorry, Cath. Keith wanted her out of his truck so he was gonna wait out front with her on a leash.” Jack heaves his breaths, like he was just in a race. “But that little shit is fast. We couldn’t catch her.” He starts to laugh. “I’ll bet that photographer got a priceless shot of us trying, though.”

  “You got Brenna a dog?” I hiss at Keith.

  Keith’s hands shoot up in a sign of surrender, his own chest heaving. “I’m just the Madden flower and dog delivery boy, remember? He got Brenna the dog.” He nods toward Brett, who’s only now coming around the corner, a sheepish smile on his face. Keith and Jack promptly move away as I close the distance.

  “What have you done?” He’s mentioned a dog in passing, but I didn’t expect this.

  Why didn’t I expect this?

  “Singer said it’s best to just act first and beg for your forgiveness later.”

  “Yeah, that is Keith’s MO. I’ve wanted to murder him a dozen times for it.”

  “Come on.” Brett spins me around by the shoulders and rests his chin on my head. “Look at how happy Brenna is.”

  “Of course she is. This is literally her dream come true.” Everything here is. The dog, the house, family and friends surrounding her on her birthday.

  “And she deserves to have her dream come true. She’s a good kid.”

  “Mommy, look! It’s Stella!” Her smile is wider than I’ve ever seen it before.

  “We’re not allowed to have dogs at my house.”

  “This is your house.”

  “No, this is your house,” I grumble stubbornly.

  “How long are you going to keep up that charade?” His voice is thick with amusement as he mimics my words from last week.

  We can’t get into that discussion right now. I heave a sigh and simply allow myself to listen to Brenna’s infectious giggles carry into the night as my throat grows thick with emotion.

  “How mad are you at me right now?”

  “Furious,” I whisper softly, tears threatening. “But thank you. For being in our lives. I’ve never been this happy.”

  His arms tighten around my body. “Neither have I.” There’s a long pause. “By the way, we owe Keith a detailing. She peed in his truck.”

  I can’t help it, I burst out laughing. “We’re never going to hear the end of that.”

  “Mist
y! Look what I got!” Brenna shrieks.

  I turn to see Misty standing in the doorway. And, thankfully, alone. I guess she’s not mad enough at me to skip Brenna’s birthday. “I should go over there.”

  “’Kay. Just maybe don’t give her the passcode to our house.”

  “Don’t you start, too.”

  Brett leans over to press a kiss against my cheek. “And I promise you can make me grovel for forgiveness about the dog later.”

  I grin up at him, even as my blood begins to race. “Don’t worry, I will.”

  I feel Brett’s gaze on me as I make my way back to the porch. “Hey! I’m glad you made it. ” I nod toward the pink gift bag dangling from her fingertips. “We’ll have to give that to her later. She’s a bit distracted right now.”

  “I see that.” Misty’s wide eyes dance from me to everyone now surrounding Brenna and Stella. “You have to show me the porch,” she blurts out, already moving back inside.

  I trail after her. “We had furniture delivered a few days ago but it’s all in here.” I lead Misty through to the separate apartment in the back, where the delivery guys dropped a soft charcoal-gray couch and giant flat-screen TV, and two complete bedroom sets—one for Brenna and one for Brett and me. I don’t know where Simone ordered it all from, but she has impeccable taste, I’ll give her that.

  “It’s a little eerie, actually. It’s so big and empty right now. I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to get used to—”

  “Matt’s not Brenna’s father, is he?”

  My mouth drops open.

  “You lied to me.” Misty’s bottom lip begins to tremble, in that way she gets when she’s really upset. And I can see that she is, acute pain shining in her eyes.

  “I didn’t—”

  “DJ said that Matt told him you guys never hooked up. You were talking and laughing, and then he tried kissing you and you shut him down.”

  I close my eyes as I’m brought back to that night. I remember thinking that if I drank enough, smoked enough, I’d forget all about Scott. “I didn’t lie.” My voice cracks over that word. “I just didn’t correct you when—”

  “You’ve been lying to me all these years!” Disbelief fills her eyes. “After everything we’ve been through. I mean . . . I held your hand while Brenna was born!”