Dirty, nasty, perfect. His arm shook as he came down and I listened to his breathing, the exhalations little more than grunts.
“Oh,” he sighed, and his hold on my shoulder loosened. Our eyes left the reflection, finding each other’s faces for real. His gaze dropped in a heartbeat, to the spoils he’d marked me with.
“Shit. Hang on—”
“No,” I said, and got to my feet.
Casual as you please, I snatched my discarded tee off the floor and tidied myself before flopping across the covers. The last thing I wanted was Eric thinking what he’d done was too filthy for my delicate sensibilities.
I smiled up at him. I could barely remember why I’d been so pissed at him, earlier. The things we did to each other always crowded out reason.
“C’mere,” I said, curling a finger.
He did, his chest still rising and falling hard, eyes a little dazed. Would he fall asleep, leave me wanting? I half hoped so, I was so strangely infatuated with his selfish side.
“Before you ask,” I said, gathering his arms around me, kissing his forehead, “that was fine. Everything we just did. Thank you.”
“Okay. Good.” He sounded unsure, but not upset.
“I want to see every side of you there is to see. Even the greedy ones and the dirty ones. I want us to be everything for each other that two people can be . . . Everything short of hurtful.”
He nodded, expression unreadable.
“You okay?” I asked, cupping his face.
He sighed, eyes closing. “You want to see all these sides of me . . . All except that one I’m going home, prepared to be for my sister, in a couple weeks’ time. The side of me that was capable of what I did to get locked up. And that one might be so bad, I could lose you over it.”
My heart pounded hard, all the feelings from before the sex flowing back into me, a cold wind rattling my bones.
Would he lose me, if he went home? Could I do that to him? Could I do it to me? I couldn’t guess. What was I trying to accomplish, drawing such a hard line in the sand? To prevent him from hurting himself, risking another altercation and more years forfeited behind bars. And for what? His sister’s safety, or maybe her honor. I got it; that was a big deal. But so was this man’s future. So was what we had.
Only it wasn’t enough, not to him.
Chapter Eighteen
I stayed pissed at Eric for a while, over a week. No cold shoulder—nothing as childish as that, but I cooled us off. On Friday we spent New Year’s Eve apart, exchanging only quiet, strained good wishes over the phone as the proverbial ball dropped.
“Happy New Year,” we’d said together.
And from him, “I love you. You know that, right?”
“I do. And I love you.” So why on earth hadn’t I been with him? Him, in my bed. Him, inside my body. Which of us was doing the hurting here?
I didn’t feel I was issuing an ultimatum, or punishing him, or trying to tell him, Do as I say or no sex for you. I was just scared and confused, and I needed the space. In time the surprise of it all faded and the situation ceased feeling like a crisis, mellowing instead to a nagging worry.
That Saturday evening I met him down in Lola’s for a drink. Upstairs I had dinner fixings ready to go, but hadn’t invited him for that officially. I figured I’d see how things went. See if my anger flared over the course of our date.
“Hey you,” I said as he strolled over, a gust of cold winter air chasing his heels.
“Hey yourself.” He tugged off his knit cap and sat across from me in the booth.
“How was work?” I asked. He’d been off on some special job all day at the airfield.
“Brutal. But extra pay for the holiday, so no complaints. Whatcha drinking?”
“My usual.”
He tossed his gloves and scarf on the bench and shed his coat, then went to grab my spiked tea and a beer for himself.
As he sat back down he asked, “How was work yesterday? My old roommates treat you good?”
I nodded. “No major incidents. Some new guy was kind of a dick during book discussion, but a few of my favorites put him in his place.” Good old Wallace, my heckler-turned-bodyguard.
“They better.”
I smiled at Eric, moving my ice around with my straw. “I remember a certain tall, dark and handsome inmate defending my honor once. In the face of dickery.”
He smiled back. “They may stick us in cages, but no need to act like animals.”
Man, it was way too easy to get drawn into his warmth, into the memories of our reckless early romance. I mentally waved the fog aside and got down to business.
“What’s the plan for next weekend? You definitely going home to be with your sister?”
He nodded and took a long drink, setting his bottle down and rotating it by the neck. “Fucker’s out on Tuesday and I couldn’t swing any workdays off. Unless something goes down between him getting sprung and the weekend, I’m heading over on Friday night. If anything, it’s just so maybe any old buddies of his might see me around. Let him know I’m lurking, that he’s on my radar, in case he gets any ideas about intimidating my sister.”
“I can’t imagine many people stand a chance at intimidating her,” I said, remembering that aggressive phone call, me sitting in this very booth, in fact.
“Nope, not many. But he’s one of them,” Eric said gravely.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
He’d been watching his pirouetting bottle, but suddenly his eyes rose to catch mine. “Why don’t you come with me?”
I blinked. “What, to see your family?”
He nodded. “I’m going up Friday night, coming back Sunday after dinner. Wouldn’t demand any time off for you, either. And what a shame, losing out on a whole weekend with each other . . . I’ve been missing you this past week.”
I shot him a look, admonishing the smooth-guy act.
“C’mon. Why not?”
I considered it seriously, beyond the major issue of how much I resented the entire premise of the trip. “For one, your sister hates me.”
“Nah, she doesn’t even know you yet. She’s just prickly. Plus I thought you wanted a chance to talk to her. Convince her to quit relying on me or whatever.”
“You made it pretty clear, that’s more than an uphill battle. A sheer vertical drop, in fact.”
He cracked a thin smile at that. “Come with me.”
“You really want me there? If there’s drama?”
“I seriously doubt there will be any. That piece of shit would need to have a death wish to come sniffing around. Not just because of me. My sister’s got a couple guns, and more than a couple friends.”
“Oh. So why do you need to go back?”
His look said, We’ve been over this before.
“Will you be . . . Will you be armed, in case he shows up?”
Eric shook his head. “Those days are over. Says my parole, and says me. Not that I was ever much for packing, not even when I was young and stupid.”
“What if he had a gun?”
“Then I’d better be careful.”
“Jesus.” My hand had gone to my heart, a vision of Eric clutching some bleeding wound knocking me sideways. All these months I’d thought Cousins had desensitized me to such realities, but I went cold as ice at the thought. “Why would you even want me coming with you, then, if it’s that dangerous?”
“Because I don’t think it’s going to come anywhere near to that. Because this guy’s a coward. I’m going so I can give my sister peace of mind, and you coming with me might set your own mind at ease.”
I did want to meet his mom, and see where he’d grown up. More facets—I was always after those facets, like a magpie scanning for the gleam. And truth be told, the invitation made me feel like his girlfriend, and I wanted that again, after this ho
rrible week apart. And I wanted his family’s approval, unpleasant as I knew at least one of them to be. I wanted to charm them. Show them I was good for Eric. Or in Kristina’s opinion, show I was worthy of him.
Without even realizing I’d tasted it, I’d finished my drink, straw stirring nothing but ice. Eric’s beer was nearly gone as well. “You want another round?” I asked.
“Sure.” He drained his bottle.
I waved him back down as he made to stand. “I got it.”
Nosy Kyle was working, and my stomach did a flip. He’d grilled me frequently in the past few months about my mysterious, inadvisable romance, but this was the first time he’d been bartending when I’d shown up with Eric. God help me.
He gave his Tigers cap a chivalrous dip as I approached, an odd ritual he’d recently decided paired well with my accent.
“Hey, Kyle. How are you?”
“Just fine, Annie.”
“Same as before,” I said, setting our empties on the wood.
“So-o-o,” he singsonged, cracking open my can of tea. “That’s him? Mr. Bad Idea?”
I nodded, eyes on his hands.
“Not so long-distance anymore, huh?”
“Nope. He moved to Darren.”
“Jeez. Guess you guys are getting pretty fucking serious, then.”
“He moved here for work, actually,” I said. “But we’re kinda serious, yeah.”
Kyle finished my cocktail and rooted in the fridge for Eric’s beer. “He treating you good?”
I smiled. I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d wanted to. “Yeah. He treats me real good.”
“Glad to hear it. And I’ll give him this much,” Kyle said, twisting the cap free. “Nobody’s fucking with you, not with that dude by your side. What is he, like six-three? One ninety-five?” Kyle was a huge pro boxing fan, I’d come to learn. He was always trying to guess people’s stats.
“Your estimate’s as good as mine.”
“Well, good to know you got that on your side in this town.”
I raised my glass to toast the ringing truth of it.
Kyle grinned, but it looked a little half-assed. A little hollow. I was pretty sure he had a crush on me, so Eric turning out not only to be real but also gigantic was probably a letdown. I tipped him way too much and said thanks, heading back to the booth.
“He likes you,” Eric said, nodding subtly toward the bar.
“Probably. But he’s a good guy. And an even better bartender—he’s been listening to me waffling about you since August.”
“He tell you you were nuts, getting mixed up with a convict?”
“No . . . I never told him that much.”
Eric looked relieved at that.
“I just said we were long-distance, and that I didn’t quite know what to make of you.”
He tilted his bottle to his lips, not meeting my eyes as he set it back down. After a long pause he said, “You know, I still haven’t given you your Christmas present. I forgot to bring it up, that night I brought you home from the airport, when we were fighting.”
“I haven’t given you yours yet, either.”
That hung between us, the question of where these drinks were taking us. Up to my apartment, where he could unwrap me, discover me clad in flowers and satin? I’d be a liar if I pretended it’d been easy, going without our sex this past week. Five years I’d forfeited it, but now that I knew what it could be like with the right man . . . it felt as vital as food or water or air.
“You need dinner?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t mind it.”
“I made meatballs earlier. If you feel like spaghetti.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I do.” His stare was hot, telling me he craved far more than that, after this awful week.
We finished our drinks without speaking much more about anything, and I dropped the empties at the bar and said good night to Kyle.
Up in my apartment, I switched on the living room lights, but as we dropped our layers on the rocker, I was still in the dark on so many fronts. I met his eyes, and held them. Outside a car alarm went off, and the sound of it triggered my frustration all over again. I dropped my gaze to Eric’s feet, and he seemed to take it as a hint, crouching to unlace his boots.
When he stood I asked, “Are we still . . . good?”
He features went hard and deadly serious. “I want to ask you the same thing. Because nothing about how I feel has changed, because of . . . because of this stalemate we’re stuck in. Nothing. I love you exactly the same. You’re the one who feels different, so you tell me.” He wasn’t angry. Not quite. It was a different strain in his voice now. Desperation.
I stared at his wool socks. “I feel the same about you, too.”
“No, you don’t. Not if you’re still considering breaking all this off, if I go to be with my sister on Friday.”
I bit my lip. “It’s the only way I can think of to maybe . . . To force you to do what’s best for yourself. I don’t want to lose you, if something bad goes down and you get sent back to prison. Because I love you.”
“But you would lose me. You’re prepared to. You’d leave me, if I said I had to go.”
I smiled weakly, lips trembling with brewing tears. “I’d say whatever I had to, to keep you free.”
His brows drew together, every other feature of that handsome face suddenly softening.
He gets it now, I realized. I’d finally found a way to explain it that broke through that wall of convoluted ethics.
“I’d rather you were out, living a decent life without me, than stand by you and pretend I was okay with you risking everything. And risking everything out of hate for someone. Some piece of shit who doesn’t deserve to have the power to take everything you’ve worked so hard to get, the last five years.” My voice had risen, nascent tears burned away to nothing. “Don’t go, and neither of us has to lose.”
He didn’t need to reply. I knew his answer word for word, by now. Don’t make me choose between you and my family. Between his newborn love for me, and thirty-plus years’ bond with his sister. Between blind lust and blood loyalty, when it came down to it. I had to admit, I wasn’t going to win that fight. But I couldn’t help but feel I ought to. I couldn’t help but feel I treated him better, cared more. Cared differently, anyhow. I rolled my eyes at that woman in the Gap, threatening Justin with Eric’s vengeance. She’d devolved into a persuasion of Kristina, fetishizing or idolizing a primeval code of manhood. Eye for an eye, just like that ink on his shoulder mandated.
“You’re still that kid who got that tattoo,” I said sadly, gaze on his arm. “You told me you weren’t, but all that same revenge crap still applies, doesn’t it?”
“This trip isn’t about me punishing him. It’s about being what my sister needs. And I’m done talking about it, okay?”
I paused at that. I wasn’t sure he’d ever shut me down like that before, not even on the drive home from the airport. He’d always been ready to keep giving. Keep proving. We’d reached a crossroads, and while I was left debating which way to go, Eric saw only one path. I could make my threat. I could leave him when he climbed into his truck on Friday against my wishes. But he’d still be getting in that truck. Maybe he’d go, and come back on Sunday night, perfectly fine, perfectly free . . .
He must have read my mind. “You stay with me, everything goes smooth, we still get each other when I’m back.”
But for how long, I had to wonder? Until the next time this happened. Until the next call from his sister, the next fight. The next stalemate.
“You make good on your promise,” he went on, “we lose each other for sure. I don’t get why you can’t see the math here, Annie.”
He was right. The only way I won was if my ultimatum worked—he stayed safe, legally and physically, and we stayed together. But I wasn’t going to win. That was the
difference in our two perspectives. He’d already crossed out that possibility.
“I guess I lose,” I said quietly, and sat on the coffee table, cupping my elbows.
Eric sighed and dropped to his knees. He leaned close, and I thought he was going rest his forehead on my thighs, maybe, but instead he was unlacing my sneakers. They were double knotted, but he worked the bows free with his big fingers, slow and patient, and slipped each one off. He held my socked feet in his hands, squeezing gently, and sighed again.
“You gotta quit seeing it as you versus me,” he said. “Or you versus my sister. I’m gonna go, sure as the sun’s gonna rise tomorrow. You stay with me, though, and I’ll have somebody I love to come back to.”
“And a reason to play it safe next time?” Because we both had to know, there was always going to be a next time, if he refused to change.
He raised his chin and met my gaze. “I dunno.”
I sucked in a long, shaking breath, then squeezed my eyes shut, squeezed my lungs empty. “I’ll go,” I told him.
“You’ll leave me?”
My eyes popped back open to find pain written all over his handsome face. “No. I mean I’ll go with you. On Friday.”
His brow softened. “You’re sticking by me, then.” He didn’t quite sound as though he believed it.
I nodded. “Sure as you’re sticking by your sister, I guess. Yeah. I mean, you’re right—you go and I leave you, I lose you for sure. You go and I stand by you, and maybe everything will be okay. Much as I’m terrified of that ‘maybe.’ Much as I worry this is only going to happen again. But you win, Eric.”
“I’m not trying to win,” he said quietly.
“I believe that. But I also know how much it feels like I’m losing. And how terrified I am of losing you.”
His expression fell at that.
“I feel like that’s what I’m signing on for,” I said, finding my words. “A future where I’ll never stop worrying about losing you, over this stuff.”
Hard Time Page 25
