Gray knew how to get to me, how to reel me in. He hadn’t started down a path of our reuniting. Instead, he pursued a friendship, trying to build trust. I wasn’t sure if he was aiming for something deeper, but his asking me to lunch was knocking on the door of that unchartered territory. His text came across desperate. I didn’t believe he’d ever hurt himself or resort to measures that might endanger his life, but I hadn’t believed it with Will until it was too late. The truth was, he meant too much for me to let him suffer alone, even if that was only my perception. And Gray knew that without my telling him.
I’d cracked a window to his manipulation, and that terrified me. It was funny how the mind worked. He had hurt me, not been good to me, but my memories had morphed into something much less painful than the reality he’d left me to deal with. I wanted to romanticize the silent way we communicated, the electric connection between us, the way he knew what I was thinking without my speaking, and the mind-blowing sex. I acknowledged the pain but only in favor of glorifying the pleasure. Somehow my mind was blocking out the bad, and there had been a lot of bad.
I wanted to see him, but not to reconnect, simply to remind myself of why we’d broken the connection to begin with. There was no reason I couldn’t be friends with Gray, with Brett’s blessing. I shouldn’t feel guilty talking to him or meeting with him. It dawned on me the cloud of darkness surrounding me was not from texting Gray or even wanting to have lunch with him, it was the fact I hadn’t told Brett in days that I’d spoken with him. It was the perceived deceit that was crushing me. Never in our relationship had Brett and I had secrets, and starting now didn’t work.
There was nothing comparable about my feelings for these two men; they were different in every way. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Brett would die for me, no hesitation. He’d never walk away from me—ever. He would love me until he took his last breath. I never had that confidence in Gray. At that point in my life, I recognized all the things in Gray that didn’t work for me now, and I no longer loved him the way I once believed I had. Knowing that gave me the confidence to believe I could pursue a friendship without recourse—after I talked to Brett.
Me: I’d love to see you, but I need to talk to Brett first.
Gray: Umm, I don’t think that’s such a great idea.
Me: That’s the deal. If you want to see me, it only happens if he’s okay with it.
Gray: I guess that’s up to you, but don’t be surprised when he doesn’t go for it.
Me: If he doesn’t, then I don’t see you. I don’t think he’ll have a problem with me seeing a friend, but my marriage comes first.
Me: I’ll let you know what he says.
I debated calling Brett to talk to him but decided this was a conversation that needed to take place face to face. Somehow in my mind, I had twisted the outcome into a positive one, one where my husband welcomed my old friend back into my life.
Brett walked through the front door right at six o’clock. I was in the kitchen making dinner when his solid arms circled my waist. The warmth of his embrace seeped into my pores, and his lips pressed against my neck before he murmured against my skin. “Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?”
For the first time in what seemed like ages, I relaxed into the security of his touch and inhaled his scent. I turned in his embrace to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him the way we’d kissed before leaving the basketball court. His lips were supple and inviting, and when I broke away, I took in the beauty that had captivated me years before. With a soft smile, I replied, “It was good. Yours?”
“Not bad. I missed you, though,” Brett replied as he brushed my hair back from my cheek.
The moment we made eye contact, he knew. He had gotten phenomenally good at reading my facial expressions over the years.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Annie, it’s written all over your face. Something’s bothering you. Why don’t you tell me what it is?”
“Nothing’s bothering me, but I do want to talk to you about something.”
He stepped back, keeping his hands on my hips and watching my eyes carefully. “Okay, what is it?”
“You know I’ve been talking to Gray—”
“Talking as in present tense?”
I nodded my head.
“No, I wasn’t aware you were still talking to him. You haven’t mentioned it in several days.”
I played it off like it was insignificant. “Yeah, nothing special. Just idle chit chat.”
“Okay, so why are you bringing him up now?” His voice was weary and his face pained.
“He wanted to know if I could meet him for lunch this week. I’ll be down by the DC, meeting with Harrod’s Plant Manager on Friday, and he thought it would be nice to see each other.” I reached up to run my fingers through Brett’s hair and smiled at him as though I’d just told him Lynn wanted to have drinks tonight.
His hands instantly dropped to his sides. His face stained cerise, and those green eyes ignited in anger. Brett was normally calm and collected, but when it came to me, he would fire off like a rocket without warning.
“Where the hell is this coming from?”
“He just asked me to meet him for lunch. I wanted to talk to you first. If you don’t want me to go, then I won’t. No big deal.” I’d underestimated Brett’s level of compassion for my past. While he adored me and would support me through any level of digging I needed to do to get through my issues, that apparently did not include me shoveling shit with Gray.
“You want to go, don’t you?”
I saw the tension in his clenched jaw. He was fighting to maintain his composure; a tremor of unease ran down my spine.
“I’d like to see him, yes, but not at the expense of our relationship.” It was the truth, even if it hurt Brett to hear it. I had never lied to him, and I wouldn’t start now.
“Then I guess you should go.” He turned to walk out of the room, leaving the anxiety lingering behind him. That was not what I had anticipated. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t silence—a fight, an argument, something other than quiet resignation.
I followed him out of the room. “Brett, talk to me. If you don’t want me to go, I won’t.”
He stopped in his tracks, jerking his body to face me. “What do you want me to say, Annie? Do you want me to fight with you? Do you want me to tell you how much I don’t want you to go? Better yet, how about I give you an ultimatum?” His chest heaved in frustration as he almost chewed on the words to make them more pliable before saying them. “Tell me, what will make you feel better about going to see your ex-boyfriend. I definitely want to say whatever it will take to assuage your guilty conscience.” Brett had never talked to me that way. He’d never so much as raised his voice. Even when we argued, we disagreed, we didn’t yell.
I’d only seen this pained look in his eyes when we lost the baby, but never before had I witnessed the fierce determination to control his temper. I just stood there staring at him blankly, unable to speak.
“What, nothing to say? Why don’t you answer a question for me before you make your decision? Why do you want to go, Annie? What are you hoping to gain from meeting him?”
I remained mute. Staring. Unsure how to respond because I didn’t have an answer. I’d simplified the situation in my head and never truly considered how Brett would take it.
“Goddamnit, Annie, fucking answer me!” He was screaming, and I struggled to maintain my composure.
“I—I don’t know, Brett. I didn’t think that far through it. I told you a long time ago that I hoped Gray and I could be friends at some point. He’s hurting. He just wants someone to talk to. What if he does something stupid like Will did? Our conversations have differed from the way they were before. He’s not playing me against myself. He just needs someone to listen. I can’t have another life on my conscience.” I trailed off as my body deflated and my face fell.
“Friends? Friends? You want to
be friends with Gray Dearsley. Has it occurred to you, you’re not a therapist? If he needs help, he should hire one. If he needs a friend to talk to, he has scads that don’t include my wife! He is not your responsibility any more than Will was. You are not required to ensure the well-being of anyone other than yourself.” He raked his hands through his hair in frustration. With a final tug on his locks, he dropped his arms to his sides and let out a brash huff.
“Out of curiosity, Annie, how did all of this come about? What have the two of you been talking about that makes you want to reconnect with him?” He’d quit yelling, but his anguish was tangible. My husband was trying to connect the dots to understanding why this would be important, but he was struggling.
“His divorce. The miscarriage.” It took everything in me not to shut down. I’d started this fire, and I would stay to put it out.
“You’ve talked to Gray about our miscarriage?”
The nod I offered was barely visible, but Brett saw it.
“Instead of talking to me?” he whispered, but it was more of a statement. A rhetorical question.
“When we talk, we fight. I know you want to give me a family, but I also know you don’t understand why I don’t want to adopt. Right now, I just want to linger in the pain of the loss. When we had sex after the basketball tournament, it was the first time I’d felt like us in months. Then two days later, you started in on me again about adoption. It’s like we don’t exist without that subject. Gray didn’t care about our family. He just knew what it felt like to lose one.”
“How often are you talking to him?”
The house was like a vacuum—I couldn’t hear the television in the living room, or kids playing outside—it was as if Brett and I hovered in this white space where time ceased to exist. The argument was pulling the life from me, forcing breath from my lungs, and the shadows of my past crept into my peripheral vision. My guilt over things I couldn’t control but wanted to believe I should have, clouded my vision.
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to clear my mind so I could have a rational discussion, forcing the demons of my past to the recesses of my mind. “I haven’t talked to him, Brett. It’s just been text messages. There has been nothing inappropriate; it was just two old friends catching up on the last three years. There was nothing intimate or distasteful. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but when he asked me to go to lunch, I wasn’t willing to make that decision without you. Come on, Brett, I’m sure you don’t tell me about every text message you ever get.”
“No, Annie, you’re right. I don’t. Because I’m not communicating with other women or my ex-girlfriends. You can pick up my phone and read everything on it and find nothing. Can you say the same?”
“Actually, yes, I can.” I rip my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and shove it at him. “You can read every text message if you want to. I have nothing to hide, Brett. I haven’t been unfaithful, or even entertained the idea.”
He pushed the phone back toward me.
“No, Brett, I want you to read them. I want you to believe what I’m telling you is the truth. Every message that’s been sent is there for you to see.”
He glanced at the phone for a minute before handing it back. I absorbed every nuance of his face in an attempt to read him. Before I understood what was going on, he pulled me into him. Wrapping his arms around me, he squeezed me tightly.
“I don’t understand your need for this, Annie. I’m not going to lie and pretend I do. But, I trust you. The fact that you talked to me about this instead of just doing it proves that trust is still there, but you caught me off guard.”
“I don’t love him anymore, Brett.” I pleaded into my husband’s broad chest. “I don’t want to be with him; I don’t miss him. I just want to know I haven’t failed at something else. Somehow in my mind, if I can turn what happened between us into a friendship, then it won’t seem as though it was all in vain. I won’t have wasted years of my life for nothing.”
I didn’t expect him to understand.
Brett had led a relatively safe and happy existence. Our miscarriage was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. He’d never even lost a relative. He’s the only man I knew who’d never been to a funeral. He would never comprehend this part of me.
“I can’t tell you it makes me happy, but if you want to go, then you should go. If you think this will help you find peace with that part of your past, then I won’t stand in the way of your healing that part of you.”
He kissed the top of my head, his hand petting my hair, and I squeezed him in return. I hated the distance growing between us.
“Annie, I love you more than life itself. Since we got married, I haven’t had to consider anyone else in your life. Gray scares me. I know what he meant to you, and I don’t like his being around.” His voice was low and soft as he spoke. He kissed me on the temple before finishing his thoughts. “I’ll always fight for you, Annie. You’re my world. I know we’re having a hard time, but I promise we will get through this, sweetheart. Don’t give up on us.”
Looking up into his beautiful green eyes, I saw the torment and truly wanted to reassure him. My hands cupped his cheeks, and my lips lifted in a heartfelt smile. “I’m not giving up on us. I love you, Brett.”
My mouth met his in an effort to convince him of where my heart was. I deepened the kiss when he accepted my advance, feeling his body relax as his hands came to my hips and around to my ass, digging his fingers into the underside. His desire radiated through his jeans the more he pressed me against his body.
Untucking his shirt, I ran my hands up his chest, burrowing my fingers into his pecs. At that moment, I completely forgot about Gray and the discussion we were just having. All I could think about was my need for this man to consume me—my husband.
In an instant, our clothes found the floor, and he had me up against the wall. Bringing my thigh to his waist, I climbed his body, unable to get the intimacy I required. With the tip of his cock at my entrance, he shifted slightly and plunged into the depths of my sex. A gasp escaped followed by a throaty moan that left me heaving for air. His sheer magnitude pilfered my breath as he stretched my insides to accommodate his girth. My arms enveloped his shoulders to hold on while he fucked me against the wall with unmitigated abandon. It was rough, but just like the couch a week earlier, it made me feel. I managed to find his mouth while he pummeled me against the plaster. Our tongues tangled as I moaned into him with frenzied breath. Breaking from his lips, I wailed in ecstasy, “Brett...” I drew out his name in warning of my pending orgasm. I was right on the edge of the cliff ready to fall over.
I buried my face into his shoulder, biting him as the orgasm took control. He charged me twice more before his body tensed, and he spilled inside me. As our panting subsided, he lowered me to my feet, but never let go. His lips brushed my temple, and he continued to hold me in place, possessing me.
Without a word, he picked me up and carried me to our bed. Lying there swathed in each other, he whispered in my ear, “I love you, baby. If you want to go to lunch with Gray, I’m okay with it. Just remember whose ring is on your finger and who you’re coming home to.”
There was nothing to say to that. There was an emotional war raging inside me, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for the battle. Not a war between my feelings for Brett versus Gray, but my struggle between healing my past and hurting my future. Brett and I were fraught with issues, but it wasn’t because we didn’t love each other. I was desperate to give Brett what he wanted; thus far, I hadn’t been able to. He assured me regularly that he loved me nevertheless, that no matter what transpired, children would not drive us apart. But I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he wanted our children as much as I did. But I was unable to escape the weight of failure.
I wanted to talk to Gray; I wanted an outsider to tell me I wasn’t broken. But not someone I would see on a daily basis. I trusted Gray with my turmoil knowing he wouldn’t share it with anyone else. And Gray w
as the only person in my life who wasn’t afraid to hurt me. He wouldn’t sugarcoat the truth in order to tiptoe around my wounded pride. He’d be honest even if it hurt. And I wanted a man to tell me if I was robbing another man of his future. Gray would do that—even if it crushed me, he would lay it out. At that moment, I made the decision.
The next morning, I sent Gray a text after I got to work to let him know I would meet him for lunch. I refused to meet him anywhere beforehand and would not be going anywhere with him after. It was lunch only, and there would be no misunderstanding by Gray or anyone who happened to see us—we were there as friends only. He seemed elated to have the chance to get together, and I refused to consider there might be any other motivation than merely catching up.
Chapter Eight
Brett
It pained me to contemplate her wanting to see him again, but there was something in Annie that would never heal until she could recognize it wasn’t her job to save him. There wasn’t an ounce of me that believed she wanted to be with him although that may have been naïve. I just knew my wife. She had told me years ago she hoped they could be friends. Before we ever married, she confided in me her desire for friendship, but I never believed it would transpire. I assumed when Gray realized she had moved on, he’d leave her alone in favor of some other obsession.
Maybe I had hoped some part of him loved her enough to do so. But that would require him to acknowledge he had hurt her to begin with, and he clearly had yet to do that. After almost four years, I foolishly believed he was out of her life forever. I knew our relationship was strong enough to withstand the likes of Gray, but I didn’t want her confiding in him. Selfishly, I didn’t want her sharing any of our lives with him. I didn’t want her repairing any portion of their relationship. As unfair as it was, I wanted that to stay broken—not in her, but in him. I prayed he respected her marriage enough not to cross the lines, but knowing Gray, knowing he’d left one woman to be with her and tried to leave a second, I wouldn’t put anything past the selfish bastard.
Freed (Bound Duet Book 2) Page 13
