Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself Book 1)

by MariaLisa deMora

  Shaking his head, Bear reached out and gripped Benny’s shoulder, the feeling much like when Mason had held onto him yesterday. Holding on. “Bring it in, son. We don’t needa do this in the door.” A tug and Benny resisted, his feet stuck to the cement as if they were glued in place. “Benny, come on.” Another tug and then a shove at his back and he was stepping over the threshold.

  “I’ll be in the kitchen with Eddie,” Mercedes said, and Benny watched her walk away, wondering when she’d had time to meet Eddie. His train of thought was derailed when Bear put an arm around his shoulders, steering him towards a room at the back of the house.

  “Talk to me, Benny.” Bear released him, picked up a guitar and handed it over, pointing him towards a seat. Grabbing his own six-string, Bear sat on the edge of a nearby chair. “Tell me about last night.”

  “Fucked up my whole life.” His hands were frozen on the strings, cold and bloodless, stiff with fear. “My entire life I’ve been the one who fucked up. The one who had to have his messes cleaned up, tidied up, and the one you could only count on not being able to count on.” Tell him something he doesn’t already know, asshat. He swallowed, hearing the simple melody Bear was picking out, his fingers sliding on automatic pilot to echo the chords. C, D, G, C, G, D, G. “I want to be someone she’s proud of.” Strumming gently, Benny leaned forward, hunching far over the guitar in his lap. “I want to be what she needs.”

  “You already are,” Bear told him softly. “You aren’t the same man I met more than a year ago. Proud of you, son.”

  “I’m scared out of my fuckin’ mind,” Benny confessed, eyes to the strings, following Bear’s lead on the chords. A, A, A, B, D, C, A. “What if I can’t do this, Bear?”

  “Then you figure out what you need to change in order to do what you want.” Back to the original chord pattern. Soft, soothing, Bear led him through the music, Benny’s playing growing stronger every moment. “You love my girl?”

  “More than anything.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, and then, since it was out there in the open, he figured he should say what he felt. “Man, when I couldn’t find her yesterday? Hours I looked and didn’t find her, and I was losing my mind. First, I was scared she wouldn’t talk to me. That she was gonna leave me. Couldn’t stand to think of me without her. Then, I was scared to death when I couldn’t find her. I decided that even if she never wanted to see me again, I needed to know she was okay.” Bear threw in a minor change and then dropped an octave while Benny stayed where they had been playing. Their contrasting melodies wove together, different and beautiful apart, but even more so when blended like this, complimenting and lifting the music up, together.

  “You didn’t get drunk?” Benny shook his head, and Bear continued. “High?” Another shake and he glanced up to see Bear staring at him. “You even think about it?”

  Benny held his gaze, his fingers stuttering on the strings, his playing faltering. Shocked because Bear was right, in his anxious rush to find Lucia yesterday, getting blitzed hadn’t even crossed his mind. Hadn’t ranked a single thought. “No.” He said this slowly, still working to make sure it was true. “Nothing was more important than finding her.”

  “Benny, you are a good man.” Bear’s fingers stilled, the music resting in the air, then falling away, leaving Benny face-to-face with him in naked silence. “I couldn’t choose better for Lucia.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Leaning against the cabinets in Slate and Ruby’s kitchen, Benny lifted a mug of coffee to his lips, watching as his brother made sandwiches for them. Coffee and tea his drinks of choice these days, and he’d drunk gallons of each since rehab.

  Piling three kinds of lunchmeat on the bread already slathered with mustard, Slate was picking through different kinds of cheeses. Without looking up, he muttered, “Ain’t got no Swiss. Shit.” He sorted the packages again and then stood there, palms to the countertop, looking down. “Shit.” Another pause, then a growled, “Fuck me.”

  Slate’s response to the lack of cheese was puzzling. Benny didn’t remember him ever being particularly picky about his food. Jokingly he asked, “You that partial to Swiss?”

  “No, but you are.” Fingers walking through the packages again, pushing cheese and meats from side-to-side with a rustle.

  “No, I’m not.” Benny couldn’t quiet the laughter that pulled Slate’s eyes to him.

  “Yeah, you are. You won’t eat ham without Swiss.” Lips in a firm line, Slate was not laughing with him, and Benny felt a stab of unease.

  “I’ll eat whatever you got.” He set the coffee down and leaned over, picking up a package. “Provolone’s good.” Picked up another. “Cheddar.” Dropping them both, he frowned. “I’m not hard to please, bro.”

  “You never eat ham without Swiss.” Shaking his head, Slate picked up one of the packages and began peeling off cheese, placing the round, white slices on top of the piles of meat. “Never did, anyway. I remember Daddy driving from the ranch into town to buy Swiss so you’d eat a fuckin’ sandwich.”

  “When I was what? Four?” Now he was laughing in earnest, unable to beat back his amusement. “I’m not a kid, bro. I outgrew that kind of shit a long time ago.” He had to be careful picking up his coffee mug; he still shook with laughter. “I liked poking my fingers through the holes.” The air in the room grew thick, and he glanced up to see Slate staring at him. “What?”

  “What she said.” Slate paused, and Benny froze because there wasn’t any question in his mind to which “she” Slate was referring. “What she did to you.” Brow furrowed, the hurt on his brother’s face was hard to witness, and it set up a resonating ache in his chest. “So fuckin’ sorry, Benny. I never knew that shit. Never knew.” Chin to his chest, Slate stared down at the half-finished sandwiches. “My baby brother, and I never fuckin’ knew anything because I left. Never shoulda left.” There was a wide ribbon of bright pain in his voice, hard and edged with blades of self-recrimination. “Never shoulda left you like that.”

  “You didn’t know. I never wanted anyone to know.” Benny kept his eyes on Slate, waiting for him to look up, having to continue on without any clues how his words were being received when his brother stubbornly continued staring at the counter. “If I wasn’t weak—”

  Slate’s roar startled him into silence. “You were fuckin’ fourteen.” His jaw hardened, and Benny thought he could hear the grinding of teeth. “She’s a fuckin’ predator. No different from an old man with a bag of candy and you’d never hold a little girl in ridicule because she was little. No. I’m tellin’ you, the bitch knew what she was doing. She groomed you, man. Groomed you and then used you for her own sick-as-fuck games. Fuckin’ predator.”

  “I wasn’t unwilling.” Probably the worst part of everything because he hadn’t been. “Every time she upped the game—“

  “It left your eyes rolling backwards in your skull. Fuck me, of course, you weren’t fuckin’ unwilling. Why would you be? Fourteen? Gettin’ off on having her hand in your pants. Fuck me.” Head moving back-and-forth, Slate closed his eyes. “You still friends with Danny?”

  The abrupt topic change left Benny reeling, and he snapped out, “Yeah, still friends of a sort. Been friends since we were kids.”

  “He spray painted my truck. Eight-years-old or so and fuckin’ spray painted the word whore on my truck. Mom was such a waste back then.” That sounded like another topic change, and Benny still hadn’t caught up to why they were talking about Danny.

  “I never knew he did that. We were friends. Why would he do that to you?”

  “Why would he fuck up your life? He’s an asshole. I traded him; and until right now, I was never proud of how I maneuvered him, but I did. Traded him an asswhuppin’ against bein’ your friend. Told him if he didn’t make life easier for you, I’d make his miserable.” Slate barked a laugh. “Another fine example of how me fucking with your life fucked it up.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Even then I kn
ew I’d be bailing on you sooner or later. I think it was a chance to see you got a friend to stand at your back. But I picked a loser. Fuck, Benny. My life is full of bad fuckin’ decisions.” Palms flat on the counter, Benny watched the muscles working underneath the surface of his brother’s skin, the tattoos shifting and moving in response. Slate was working through some emotion tied up in him leaving Wyoming, but Benny couldn’t figure out which way he was headed.

  Reaching out, he rested one hand on the tattoo covering Slate’s upper arm. Starting at the peak of the shoulder, the tattoo of a vengeful angel stretched halfway down his arm ending with the words ‘My Brother’s Keeper’. “You saved my life.” This is where it starts, he thought. Reparation. Because he didn’t do anything wrong, and I can’t let him live with that thought. “Saved me. Was it the wrong decision?”

  “No. But—”

  He didn’t let Slate get anything else out, talking over him and praying he could force his brother to hear him. “My whole life, you’ve worked to make it better. Was it a bad idea to try to do that?” He didn’t give him a chance to respond, forging ahead. “No. It wasn’t. It’s never a bad decision to try to do right. You can’t know what the outcome is going to be. Mason told me it’s the intent that matters most, more than anything else. If you work and try to do what you think is right, then it matters most.” Fingers tapping, he indicated the tribal band positioned below the angel. “This one, it’s for me, too, even if you didn’t know it at the time.” Worked into the dark ink were the words ‘The Past Is Practice.’ “The only time we master life is if we’re six feet underground, moving on to the next transformation. The whole time we’re here, if we’re doing it right, we’re practicing so we can do better. Like playing music, you never stop learning.” He leaned in, resting his chin on Slate’s shoulder, whispering, “You saved my life. Nothing else matters.”

  The sudden tension under his hands gave him only a moment’s warning before Slate exploded, shoving Benny away as his arm swept the sandwiches in an arc, sending them smashing against the wall. He roared again, and Benny made out the words, “You were fuckin’ FOURTEEN,” before Slate grabbed him, holding on tightly. “Fuckin’ fourteen, Benny. I was fuckin’ my way through the western states, and you were being fucked over by a fuckin’ bitch. Goddamned fuckin’ bitch. I left, and you were only fuckin’ fourteen.”

  “You saved me.” Benny wrapped around his brother and repeated his words. “Nothing else matters.”

  “I fuckin’ left.”

  Benny squeezed Slate in his arms, wordlessly trying to tell him it didn’t matter. “You’re here now.”

  “Mom was a waste.”

  “Yeah, she was. She had to save herself. I was lucky. I had you.” He swayed, and Slate caught him, holding him upright. “You saved me. I pissed away a thousand chances. Stole and lied to get what I wanted. Brought trouble to your feet and”—he squeezed tightly again—“you saved me. Fixed it all so I didn’t have to worry about it and never asked me for anything other than to learn how to be a better man. I didn’t have to look far to find the best example, Slate. Still don’t because it’s right in front of me. You are who I want to be when I grow up.” This made them both laugh, and Benny heard a feminine chuckle too, looking up to see Ruby standing in the doorway, eyes on the two men standing in a man-hug in the middle of the room. “I love you, bro.”

  This got him a squeeze in return, and a gruff, “Love you, too, shrimp.”

  Releasing his hold and stepping back, he waited until he had Slate’s gaze before he said, “You’re not gonna clean make me that mess up, are you?” Laughter from two of the people he loved most in the world surrounded him, and he grinned at how good it felt.

  ***

  “Are you trying to be nice?” Lucia’s question startled him, and Benny blinked at her. He’d been watching her as she played and thought her focus on the game would keep her from noticing his scrutiny. “Because you’re making me nervous. Do I have something on my face or something?”

  Leaning forwards, he brushed his thumb up her cheek, sweeping his hand into her loose hair, threading his fingers in so he could pull her towards him. Pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her head, he released her and sat back, watching as her hair fell in a dark cloud around her face again. “No, I was thinking I wanted to kiss you but didn’t want to bug you.”

  She cut a glance his way, then looked back to the TV. “Not buggin’ me to kiss me.” Lips tipping up, she said, “Like your kisses, Papi.”

  “I’m glad.” Stretching out on the couch, he turned to put his head in her lap, grinning as she readily adjusted to the new position, lifting her hands and the controller so he could fit underneath. “I like kissing you.” He waited a moment, then asked her, “Whatcha doin’?”

  Her lips tipped again, mouth stretching into a soft smile. “Playin’.” A pause, then, “Whatchu doin’?”

  He turned his head, nuzzling under the edge of her shirt and kissed her belly, liking how it hollowed out at his touch, her torso jerking as his lips made contact. He drew a line of soft kisses, then looked up at her. No longer smiling, she had pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and was biting it hard. “Playin’,” he repeated the word back to her and watched as that lip rolled out of her mouth slowly, glistening in a way which made him want to kiss her. Not that I need an excuse. Eyes still to the TV, she pressed her full lips into a tight line, and he decided to test her focus, turning his head to nuzzle into her again.

  Lifting his hand, he curled his arm around her side, fingers drifting up her back underneath the fabric of her shirt, finding the edge of her bra strap and tracing along the line. “Benny.” Soft and breathy, her voice wasn’t scolding, even though he knew it was her intent.

  “Hmm?” Raising his other hand, he slipped it underneath her thigh beside where he lay, curving his fingers around the bare skin, tickling the back of her knee gently. She didn’t dress conservatively, but she didn’t show much skin, either, always hitting a happy medium which meant he loved looking at her in whatever outfit she chose. Knowing, unlike all the other men who might look at her and see only what was hinted at, he knew what lay underneath. The promise.

  Still breathy, she said, “Stop. You’re gonna get me killed.” He glanced at the screen. She was in solo mode, which meant she didn’t really care. Shifting, he pulled his hand out from under her leg and turned his back to the TV, facing her. The hem of her shirt had lifted, baring a tantalizing strip of skin across her belly. Easing forwards, he moved until his cheek was pressed against her pelvis, lips brushing against her. Drawing slow circles with the tip of his nose, he crossed her belly, kissing as he went. “Benny.” Breathless again, her voice trembled, and he felt the weight of her arm on his shoulder. Glancing up, he saw her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted.

  “Gonna die, baby?” At his words, her eyes popped open, and she glared down at him a moment before looking beyond him to the TV. He rearranged his hands, sliding one underneath her thigh again, but up near where her shorts covered her ass, curving in and pressing against the seam in her crotch. Benny got to watch as her belly hollowed out at his touch again. Heard her indrawn breath, saw the tails of her hair dip, and knew she was looking down at him. Trailing a fingernail down the seam, he scratched and plucked at it, seeing her belly jerk again. Wanna hear her moan.

  Lips to the fastening of her waistband, he worked and tugged, fingers getting in on the action to get her zipper down and then he slipped a hand into her panties, immediately shifting, frustrated at the angle. “Wanna eat you, baby.” Nuzzling again, he heard a thud and looked up to see her empty hands sweeping her hair back, fingers tugging on the elastic tie she wore on her wrist. “Leave it down.” He liked her hair down. “Baby.” She stared at him. “Lay back, Luce.”

  Shifting sideways, she edged towards the arm of the couch as he sat up and adjusted his hard cock in his too-tight pants. Sauntering to the door, he put the chain on and turned the deadbolt, turning to face her. Tiny sock
s on her feet, knees bent, heels together and tucked to her ass, she was lying with her head on a pillow. “Gorgeous.” She was. Dark hair swirling around her head and shoulders, beautiful brown eyes bright, uncertainty warring with arousal on her face. “Stunning.” The hem of her shirt rucked up, belly bare, red lace of her panties peeking out the ‘V’ made by the opened shorts.

  “Continually amazed that you picked me.” With one knee to the couch he curled his hands around her ankles, sliding up her calves and over her knees, thumbs between her thighs until he pressed against her still-covered pussy. “Looks like yours? Beauty you have inside you? You could have anyone.” Fingers hooking in her shorts, he dragged them down her legs and off. Dark red lace covered her, darker in the center exposing things she didn’t realize he’d see. “A thousand men would lay their hearts at your feet.” Hands traveling the same path, he let her panties fall to the floor. “You let me in.” Fingers loosely circling her ankles, he slipped her socks off. “Bringing all your beauty into my life.” He leaned in, mouth against her skin. “In my bed. Letting me hold love in my arms, every day. Gonna kiss you every moment, tell you how much I love you. Always will. My heart is yours, Lucia.” He lifted her hand, placing it against his chest.

  Swooping in, he brushed a soft kiss against her parted lips. “Shirt off, baby. Bra too.” Leaning up, she was occupied with his instructions when he stroked her gently, slowly slipping a single finger into her pussy, freezing her in place with the shirt half off. He went belly-down on the couch, pushing her legs apart, finding there was plenty of room to do what he wanted. He pulled one leg over his shoulder and leaned his head against her inner thigh. “Are you mine, Lucia? Do I hold your heart?” His question jolted her into movement, and her shirt went flying.

  “Si, Papi. Mi corazon.” Dipping his face forward, he flattened his tongue against her, lapping at the sweetness which was all his. “Ah, Dios.”