Freed (Bound Duet Book 2)

by Stephie Walls

  Annie and I have our own bond, but it’s different than theirs was. Ours is more than just physical—it’s spiritual, emotional. No part of me exists without her. From our first date at Passerrelle Bistro, to the day she took me to her favorite bookstore and showed me a private piece of her life, I’d become insanely protective. In a matter of weeks, she had taken up residence in my heart, and I’d do anything to keep that bond intact. I saw in her actions, the way she looked at me, how she spoke my name—it was mutual. My heart beat in time with hers, and I adored her. Everything about my wife was utterly beautiful, from her glorious smile to her black Docs she insisted got better with age. Her heart was as genuine as the rest of her. But the last year had been rough on both of us. Our fertility struggles were taking a toll on her, on us, and she believed she’d failed me. Regardless of how many times I’ve attempted to reassure her those weren’t my feelings—those were feelings she was imposing on me, or I didn’t feel that way, reminded her there were other options—she refused to budge from her stance. For whatever reason, she blamed herself and, in turn, thought she had robbed me of some future bloodline or legacy. I was scared, fucking petrified, that when she met up with Gray, she would use that as her excuse to pull away completely. All we needed was Gray’s ass complicating a situation that was already tumultuous, threatening to drown us.

  But denying her, forbidding her from seeing him wouldn’t do either of us any good. I refused to deny her the trust she had long ago earned. If she wanted to meet up with him, she could easily do it without my permission, and I wouldn’t tell her no to protect myself. She was an adult, and I had to let her live. I never wanted to question whether things would be different had I given her the green light. That was sobering and humbling, but true. At the end of the day, my wife had every right to be friends with whomever she wanted, and I needed to believe in us enough to know it wouldn’t affect the way she loved me—regardless of our problems.

  When I got to work, it took everything I had not to annihilate him. I kept seeing him around the DC, and I knew by the smirk on his face, it verged on gloating, that Annie had agreed to meet him. The way he looked at me like he had the upper hand pissed me off even more, but I refused to let him taunt me into an argument or any other pissing match. She was my wife, and at the end of the day, she would still be my wife.

  I trusted her—I didn’t trust him.

  No matter how many times I chanted that sentiment to myself, I couldn’t get past the him part of that equation. He had announced years ago that she belonged to him. When he told me that night in Wild Wings he owned her, he believed it—he thought she was his property, and he always would. Gray was persistent, tenacious, and usually got what he wanted, especially with women. But I had never believed he wanted Annie. Unfortunately, I didn’t think she believed he did either—and that was what caused the turmoil. She wanted to right the relationship, to at least make good on the friendship to feel like she wasn’t used. He wanted to have her, but he didn’t want her. His ego needed to know he could have her—that he still controlled her, and she was still available to him—but he’d never commit to her. It was a game, and she was the pawn. If he loved her the way he claimed, he never would have done the things he did, he wouldn’t have let her get away, and he damn sure wouldn’t disrupt her life now—he was a selfish prick. He had been good at manipulating a broken spirit, but, in reality, he was simply in love with the idea of her.

  My thoughts were interrupted when he popped his head in my office. “Hey, Brett, just wanted to let you know I’ll be taking an extended lunch tomorrow.”

  The smug look pissed me off, plain and simple. If we weren’t in this fucking DC, Gray and I would go toe to toe, fist to fist, right now. He thought I was intimidated by him, but I’d walk away from everything I have, including this job, to protect my wife and marriage—and that was a love, a commitment he would never understand.

  “Yeah, Annie said you guys were going to get together for lunch. Just make sure you let the shipping dock know so Topher can take care of things for you.” Outwardly, I denied how perturbed I truly was, refusing to acknowledge I was bothered. I maintained my composure, but if the asshole didn’t get out of my sight soon, I might not hold my resolve.

  “You’re cool with us having lunch?” He appeared genuinely surprised, like he didn’t think Annie had really told me they were going to see each other. I couldn’t stop the smile that graced my lips knowing I’d just burst his bubble. He believed they were sneaking around and was visibly surprised I knew he was meeting my wife. This fucker thought he could just waltz in and walk away with her. The son of a bitch had another thing coming.

  “Why would I care?” I wasn’t sure how I pulled off the blasé tone in my voice, but it pissed him off.

  “Most men aren’t down with their wives meeting up with their ex.”

  “I’m not most men, and I trust my wife. You’re her ex for a reason, Gray.”

  Holding up his hand to halt the conversation, he conceded, “You’re right. I’m glad you’re cool with it. Talk to you later, man.”

  I would be a total fucking wreck until I heard from her after lunch tomorrow. I seemed proficient in donning a good game face, but internally, I was dying. I didn’t want her near him, but I also knew I couldn’t control her—I wouldn’t even try. Either she loved me enough to stay faithful, or she didn’t. Either way, I had to give her the chance to find out.

  Chapter Nine

  Annie

  We agreed to meet at Applebee’s. I couldn’t help but think of the odd significance this restaurant had in our relationship. The first time we hung out beyond the DC was at the Applebee’s closest to 3 Tier when Gray was still married. Now it was the Applebee’s closest to my newest client, and I was the one who was married. The difference was Gray knew I was married, and my husband knew where I was.

  I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I continuously rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. I hadn’t seen Gray, not even in passing, in years. It was odd how the universe kept throwing us together when we were single, but once I got married, I never ran into him, never even caught a glimpse of him until I ran into him at the DC recently.

  As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, I saw him standing up against a silver Harley with his feet crossed at the ankles and arms over his chest. He was just as stunning as he’d always been, but he’d filled out a little. Mostly it was just the natural aging process. His face was a bit fuller, his goatee grayer, his arms a smidgen thicker, and his chest was broader, but there was no denying his hair now held a hint of gray. I quickly spotted a definite change I’d missed in the DC a couple of weeks earlier. He now had a full sleeve of ink on his right arm, and it was undeniably hot. I couldn’t see his eyes from the sunglasses, but I knew what was under them the instant he spotted me, and his lips turned into his infamous quirky grin—the one I’d believed for years he reserved for me.

  Pulling my 4Runner into the parking space next to him, I gave him a little wave before removing my sunglasses and lobbing them into the seat next to me. I had stopped and changed clothes before coming to meet him. I needed to be comfortable, and work attire wouldn’t cut it. I was sporting my usual garb, some things never changed. Out of nervous habit, I ran my hand through my long, dark hair, removing it from my face as I stepped out of the SUV.

  Gray came to me. As soon as my feet hit the ground, his arms were around my waist, tucking me into his body in a tight squeeze and lifting me off the ground. He kissed me on the top of the head before leaning down to put his forehead to mine. Daring to search my soul, he looked into my eyes. He smiled and whispered, “Hey, Bird Dog.”

  I gave him a heartfelt grin and pulled back. It hit me instantly; those two words no longer held the weight they once had. My nickname hadn’t caused me to swoon, or me to cream my panties. It had done nothing but remind me of a fond memory I once shared with someone in another lifetime.

  “Hey, Gray.” I pulled from his embrace that had gone on lo
nger than I was comfortable with and stepped far enough away he wouldn’t be inclined to touch me. “I’m starving. You ready to go in?”

  “Yeah, baby. Come on.”

  I stopped, not taking another step. I wanted to be here. I wanted to see my friend. But I had to ensure he understood where the boundaries were. “No terms of endearment. This is purely platonic. I’m happily married, and at the end of today, I will still be happily married. Got it?” My straightforward tone shocked the shit out of both of us. But I’d meant it. I wasn’t here to rekindle an old flame, and I damn sure won’t lose my husband’s trust over Gray Dearsley.

  He turned to walk to the door with me still standing where I’d made my proclamation. I refused to budge until he conceded and said he understood. I would get back in my car and drive home.

  “Understood. Now come on.” He winked at me playfully and held the door open waiting for me to move.

  My eyes squinted in hesitation, questioning his quick surrender.

  “I got it. I promise. Just friends.” He held up three fingers in the Boy Scout salute, and I trusted we were on the same page.

  We ordered and sat there chatting about nothing when he finally got to the point. “Enough of the chitchat, Annie. What the fuck is going on with you?” His words were chaste but echoed concern.

  “Nothing really.”

  “Cut the shit, baby. I can see it in your eyes. There’s pain there. So tell me what it is.”

  “I told you no baby or sweetheart. I’m serious, Gray. It’s not appropriate, and you know it.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re in love, and your old man’s protective as hell. I don’t want to tangle with him any more than I want to piss you off. It’s just a habit. I’m Southern, and it means nothing. I say it to the cashier at the Kangaroo. So spill it, what’s going on with you.”

  I took a deep breath. I had mentioned the miscarriage to Gray via text, but primarily we had talked about his divorce, and his emotional state since. I hadn’t delved into this with anyone other than Brett, and that had gotten me nowhere. He refused to be honest about his feelings, and that just made the gap between us wider. I stared down at the table, tucking my long hair behind my ear while the other side fell forward. “I keep letting him down, Gray.”

  He hesitated for a minute as though he thought I would offer more than one sentence. “Look at me.”

  I glanced up to catch the anguish in his eyes.

  “What do you mean you keep letting him down?” When I didn’t immediately respond, he said, “You can tell me anything, Annie; you know that.”

  “When Brett and I got married, he told me he wanted a big family. He was ready to try as soon as I was. I wanted to enjoy being married for a while and wasn’t in a hurry to dive into the commitment of children.”

  I couldn’t believe I shared that kind of information with Gray. I began dumping intel as fast as I could get it out of my mouth. The word vomit was fueled by my mind’s irrational belief that if I could expel my thoughts, it would in turn rid itself of the burden in the process.

  “I stopped taking birth control about two years ago. We knew it might take some time, but to date, there’s been nothing other than a miscarriage. A few months ago, I underwent a procedure to determine why I’d now had two losses. The doctor confirmed I’m the issue and a full-term, viable pregnancy is doubtful. I won’t give you all the details, but basically, the options are adoption, maybe in vitro, but there’s no guarantee any pregnancy will survive in my womb. We could also consider a surrogate, but no one in their right mind would ever do that. It’s not like I have a sister. We keep trying, but obviously, we have no kids, and it’s taking a toll.” That pretty much summed it up.

  “Jesus, Bird Dog. You’ve had another miscarriage?”

  I watched him relive the pain we endured separately with Cole; only he couldn’t imagine that agony times two.

  “I feel like I’m being punished, Gray. I always thought Cole was my fault, and I know you blamed me, too. Brett wants to do in vitro or even adoption, and I just can’t. I don’t want to do the hormone injections. I don’t want to force a child where God doesn’t want me to have one. He mentioned adoption, but I know he really wants his own. I’m failing him; I’m letting him down. It’s the one thing he told me he wanted, and I can’t give it to him.” My eyes filled with tears, and as I blinked, they cascaded silently down my face.

  He got up and came to my side of the table to slide into the booth next to me. He said nothing, just turned my chin toward him as he wiped the tears off my cheeks, and then held my head to his chest, kissing the top of my head. Gray was never good with drama, or emotional issues; he fled those scenes the instant they arose. But here he sat, like an actual friend. He didn’t use the moment to push something between the two of us, but he tried to comfort me the way I needed.

  He finally released me, allowing me to look up. “You’re not being punished, baby. And you’re not letting him down. Has he pushed you to do the in vitro or adoption?” His voice was tranquil and even. It was the baritone that once soothed my deepest aches.

  “No, he hasn’t pressed for anything. He keeps telling me he loves me, and if we can’t have children, then it just gives him more time to love me. But I know how much he wants kids.”

  “Why don’t you want to do the in vitro?” He wasn’t accusatory, just curious.

  “I don’t think I can handle investing all that money to implant eggs and then have the same result. The devastation of two miscarriages in my life has been more than I can handle. That would be catastrophic. If I failed Brett in this, too, I don’t think I could live with myself.”

  “Annie, I don’t claim to know what Brett is going through, but I can tell you that if my wife wanted kids and couldn’t have them, it would hurt me. I would hurt for her, not for the loss of having children. My guess is that’s what Brett’s feeling. He wants to give you what he thinks you want. I promise, if he loves you, which I know he does, he doesn’t think you are failing him, he’s just desperate to provide a solution. Guys are fixers.”

  Hearing the same words from Gray’s mouth that I’d heard from Brett’s for months shocked me.

  “It’s just caused a lot of arguments. We are always having sex to try to reach a goal instead of just to be together. That physical connection now holds an agenda. I miss my husband.” My voice was weak, unsure of how Gray would respond to my confession, but if he wanted to be my friend, now was his chance.

  “You need to tell him how you feel, baby.” With his arm draped across the back of the booth, he stroked my hair as he spoke in the same way my mother used to pet my head when I was sick.

  I knew he was right. I needed to tell him in a heartfelt way, not in a frustrated argument with heated voices. Brett loved me and needed me happy more than he desired anything else. I nodded at Gray, a silent agreement that he was right.

  He got up and moved to the other side of the booth. We sat there for a while when I realized this had all been about me, and Gray’s had some tough times in the last three years, but I haven’t bothered to ask how he was doing.

  “Hey, Gray?”

  He smiled and winked at me in between bites of food. “Yeah, baby?”

  I rolled my eyes at his refusal to stop calling me by his insipid pet names. “What happened with you and Slut Muffin?”

  His body shook with laughter. I smiled, watching his throat move as he talked and the masculinity tied up in it. “Do you really not know her name?”

  “I know it starts with an A, but no, I don’t remember it. I know her little girl’s name is Alexis if that means anything.” I smiled a shit-eating grin, knowing he loved that I remembered her name, but never cared enough to know his wife’s.

  “Her name is Amber. I don’t even know where to begin, other than to say things went wrong from the day I married her. If I was calling you from the chapel, I was making a mistake marrying her. I stood in the church staring out at this field full of bright green grass. The
sky was this bright blue, almost an unreal color, and there were huge fluffy white clouds in the sky that looked like giant cotton balls. All I could think of was lying in that field with you watching the clouds change shape and the grass hiding us from the world. I knew at that moment the kind of peace I had with you and what I had let go.”

  “Gray…” It was heart-wrenching, but something told me he needed to get it out. This wasn’t a trip down memory lane. It was merely Gray acknowledging his regret.

  “It’s okay, Annie. I made my choices; they were just the wrong ones. Anyway, things were good at first. I love Alexis, and I loved being there with her all the time. I picked her up from school, helped her with her homework, and played with her. She was my angel. I think Amber knew I was more drawn to her daughter than I was her. I’m not sure if she made the suggestion trying to win me over through sex or if she needed someone else to comfort her and wanted my permission to do it. I came home one day, and she casually brought up wanting to join a swingers’ club.”

  I interrupted him, completely shocked by his admission of his wife’s request. “A swingers’ club? You mean like having sex with other people with your wife?

  He shrugged. “I didn’t know shit about the lifestyle other than what I’d heard about wild orgies. My wife wanted to share her pussy—it was kind of a blow to the ego.”

  This was one of the few times I had ever remembered seeing him vulnerable, but I never could recall a time he’d admitted an insecurity. The confident man I’d known no longer existed in this shell before me.

  “I had never had a woman feel like she needed more, at least not sexually.” He gave me a knowing look as if to apologize. “She kept hounding me, and the more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself it was a good idea. She would get to play, I would get to play, and it would give us both an outlet away from the other. What man wouldn’t want his wife to green light him sleeping with other women?