Steady (Pleasant Valley Book 3)

by Anna Brooks

  As I’m getting ready for my night out, Erik sits on the bed with his laptop, and to lighten the mood, I say, “You’d better not watch porn when I’m gone.”

  He looks up from the screen. “You weren’t complaining the last time I was.”

  “I was here, though, and that was just a big ploy to get in my panties because I was pissed at you.”

  He cocks his head. “If you think for one second that I need porn when I have you, I clearly haven’t done my job.”

  I lean against the dresser right outside the door leading to the bathroom. “Really? And what’s your job, exactly?”

  “To make you feel safe and like the most loved and beautiful woman in the world.”

  Somehow, he manages to go from flirty to serious, and it makes my eyes water. “You do that.”

  “Then you should know I don’t need anything but you. You’re all I want, but I’m all for whatever gets you off, baby. And if watching—”

  “Oh, my God, stop!” I quiver just thinking about it, but at the same time, I’m all embarrassed and stuff. I’ve never had a healthy relationship, let alone a sexual one with a man, so the intimacy with Erik alone is a lot to get used to. But then you throw in the teasing, and I disintegrate into a teenage girl.

  He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Just being honest. Maybe we should visit a store sometime, get some toys to mess around with.”

  “I thought you said all you need is me?” I raise a brow as I’m putting on my earrings.

  “That’s a true statement, but you really seemed to like it when she was using a vibrator before—”

  “Erik, oh my God, stop!” I plug my fingers in my ears. “La, la, la, I can’t hear you.” I run out of the room laughing, and before I even make it down the stairs, he’s caught up to me.

  “What’s the matter, Polls?” He lifts me off the ground, carries me to the living room, and tosses me gently over the arm of the couch. “You gettin’ wet from thinking about it?”

  “You’re such a jerk.” I intend to yell, but when he puts his hand up my skirt and touches the fabric that I know for a fact is damp, my words end on a moan.

  He pushes the material of my skirt up and pulls my thong aside. I hear his pants swoosh down to the ground before he pushes into me from behind. “Does this make me a jerk?”

  “Yes, ’cause I only have a few minutes before Mellie gets here, and I’m going to look like I just had sex!”

  He laughs as he pulls out then slams back inside. “Yeah, you are.”

  * * *

  “I give up.” I toss the half burned piece of garlic bread onto the table and then cross my arms and pout like a little baby. “How do I mess up freaking bread? And when an instructor is giving me step-by-step directions to boot!”

  Mellie is sitting next to me, trying not to laugh. Just like Erik tries not to laugh when I somehow manage to mess up the simplest cooking skills.

  “It’s fine; you can laugh.” I blow some hair off my face and sigh. “I’m just not destined to be a chef.”

  “You’ll get it eventually. I promise.” Mellie touches my arm, and I roll my eyes.

  “Yeah. Okay, sure. Whatever you say.” I swallow the last of my wine from the complimentary glass I was given at the beginning of class. “Let’s get out of here; it’s making me depressed.”

  We gather our stuff and thank the instructors on the way out. This was actually really fun even though I failed. Epically. I’ve never really had girlfriends… or friends, for that matter. I don’t know if I’d consider my boss, Rayne, a friend. We went out a couple of times after work for a drink, and I lost a bet and had to wear a ridiculous outfit to a bar once. I get along great with her, but it’s not like we’re best friends.

  I gave up on the idea of being close to people a while ago, along with everything else. But a part of me has always wanted to have friends. It’s kind of snuck up on me tonight, and I’m pretty sure that’s why I fucked up my food since I was lost in my own thoughts the whole time I was supposed to be cooking, or learning how to, at least.

  It kind of hit me like the whole having a baby thing did. But this time, I was able to not feel bitter about it. Instead, I’m choosing to enjoy this for what it is with Mellie. A friendship that will hopefully grow. And probably will because there’s a common thread between us.

  Mellie and I walk out of the kitchen area and go to the bar. We’d already agreed to have a drink after since the cooking class was offered by a bar and restaurant. I order another glass of wine, and Mellie gets a lemonade.

  “Can I ask you something?” she asks.

  Figuring sometime during the night I would have to discuss the inevitable, I nod. “Yep. Let’s get this over with.” I laugh nervously.

  “Has he tried to call you?”

  I don’t need to ask who she’s referring to. “No. I don’t have a cell phone, and as soon as he went to jail, I stopped paying the phone bill to the house so I have no clue if he even tried. Did he call you?”

  “Yeah.” She sighs. “But I declined it as soon as I heard it was a collect call from the jail. I feel kind of bad.”

  I swirl my wine around the bowl of the glass. “Richard has written me a letter. I have it but can’t bring myself to open it. He… he was never anything but nice to me, and I know he stalked you and now he’s in jail for murder, but he treated me really good.”

  “I know,” she says sympathetically.

  “He found me and saved me then gave me a place to live and stability I’d never had before.” I continue to tell her about my history. Most of the stuff was a shock to her since she thought I was an ex-druggie. As I get to the end of the story, and explain how I was deposited by a dumpster like trash, tears fill her eyes. “Please don’t cry for me.” I set a hand on hers and give it a squeeze. “I’m fine now. I found Erik, and everything is fine.”

  “And you have me. You have Smith. We love Erik, and by default, we love you whether you like it or not. And I’m sorry for calling you a bitch, but I didn’t know you then.”

  “It’s okay. I called you a bitch, too.”

  We laugh for a moment, and I take another swallow of wine.

  “Are you going to read the letter?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” I shrug. “Part of me feels like it’s the past, and I should forget about it.”

  “But the other part…?”

  “Feels like I owe it to him, for what he did for me, to at least read it. He… he stalked you, but he saved me, and it’s really hard to separate the two different personalities of him, ya know?”

  “Yeah,” she agrees.

  “I had no clue. I mean, sure, he was… strange. God, those damn dolls he collected. They gave me the creeps.” I laugh at the memory of how I’d avoid looking at the porcelain dolls that were all over the living room. “He worked a lot, and I guess I never knew exactly what he did because he was always kind of evasive about it. But I had a roof over my head, and he was kind to me, so I looked past a lot of the weirdness.

  “When Richard got arrested, I was completely fine to live alone. I was done with men altogether. In fact, I was trying to be independent before Erik even came along. But he made me realize that taking a risk to be happy is better than being alone and just content.”

  Mellie nods and pain flashes in her eyes. “Yup. Been there, lady.”

  I don’t ask her story because if she wanted to share, she would. We steer the conversation away from heavy topics and enjoy a couple of hours talking about mundane things. Girly things. By the time we leave the bar, it’s almost midnight.

  Erik’s waiting up for me, and when I slide into bed, he shuts the TV off. “Have a good night?”

  “Yes.” I hold his hand that’s thrown over my waist. “It was fun. Well, after the cooking class, it was fun.”

  “What happened at the cooking class?”

  “It was awful.” I groan. “I can’t cook. It’s impossible, Erik. Somehow… some-freakin’-how I burned the bread and left the ce
nter gooey and raw at the same time. Just like the pancakes. I think it’s best I throw in the towel before I die of salmonella poisoning. Or kill someone else with it.”

  His body shakes behind me, and I elbow him in the ribs. “Shut up!”

  He stops moving, but I can still hear the laughter he’s trying to hold back. I begin laughing myself and roll over to my back. “You’re doomed. I’m sorry. I’ll never be the kind of wife you can come home to and expect a delicious home-cooked meal.”

  The snickering from him subsides almost immediately, and he asks, “You wanna be my wife?”

  “Oh, I, um… I just meant…” Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Baby, I’d love to marry you.”

  I have to clear my throat before I can answer. “You would?”

  “Well, yeah. Polly, I’m not gonna discuss my past and having babies with you if I wasn’t planning on being with you for a very, very long time.”

  “Oh.”

  “As much as I want to put a ring on it, I want there to be no doubts, no questions, and no uncertainty between us.”

  “Do you think there’s uncertainty between us?”

  He sighs, and I press my lips together, worried my face will show too much emotion. “I’m not uncertain about us. But I am about me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m kind of fucked up, Polls.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  His neck twitches, and his Adam’s apple moves slowly before he speaks again. “I don’t for one second miss when I’d binge drink, but it was a problem for me for a while. I’ve got much more at stake now with you, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. I’ve never gone this long without… and I don’t trust myself enough yet.”

  “Trust yourself enough for what?”

  “To promise I’ll never… That my issues won’t affect you like they did when you hurt yourself because of me.” He twines our fingers together and rubs the scar on my hand with his thumb.

  “Erik, I trust you.” I promise him. “Everyone has something they’re fighting, and—”

  “But it’s my problem. Not yours. And when I’m sure that I have it a hundred percent under control—”

  “Where is this coming from?”

  He runs his thumb along my cheek before he rolls over to his back. “Smith brought up some shit the other day.”

  I knew it; I knew something was wrong since we were at their house.

  “I try to tell myself that I’ll be good on my own, that I was just using it as a crutch, and that I don’t really need help. But when Smith brought it up and pointed out what happened to you because of me, I just—”

  “No.”

  “No what?”

  “No. Smith doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to spew a bunch of shit he knows nothing about and make you doubt yourself.” I sit up and face him. Smith is trying to be a friend; just like when he told me that if I wasn’t going to stay, I needed to leave after I got back from the ER. But our relationship isn’t his business.

  “I’ve always doubted myself with you, Polls. This isn’t something new.”

  “For some bullshit reasons,” I argue. “You’re just using this as an excuse to try to put distance between us because you’re scared.” My brow arches in challenge.

  He looks away from me thoughtfully for a couple of minutes before he gives me his attention again. “You’re right.”

  Wow. “I am? I mean, I know I am.”

  “It’s just that I love you so much, and I want to be everything to you.”

  “You are, Erik.”

  He nods and motions for me to lie with him, so I rest my head on his chest and wrap an arm around his torso. I’m not sure if he’s done talking or not, so I don’t say anything. My eyes become heavy, and the next thing I know, I’m waking up in an empty bed.

  I hear the water running through the pipes and relief washes over me. Heading to the bathroom, I glance at the clock and see it’s only seven forty. When I enter the room, he greets me happily.

  “Morning yourself.” I close the door behind me to keep the warmth in while I use the bathroom then wash my hands and brush my teeth. As I’m taking my hair out of its bun, he steps out and wraps a towel around his waist. Damn, I could wake up to that view every day.

  There’s something I want to talk to him about, so in order to avoid distraction, I leave the bathroom and head downstairs. I take down two bowls and a couple of boxes of cereal then set them on the table with spoons and a gallon of milk.

  I fill my bowl, and before putting the milk in, I grab my purse and take out what I want to show him. Just as I’m sitting down, he does too, but not before he kisses the top of my head. I pour my milk then hand him the gallon and he does the same.

  I slide the letter over to him, and he pauses mid-bite. “What’s this?” Dropping his spoon back in his bowl, he reaches for it.

  “I can’t bring myself to open it.”

  He picks it up and glances at me before his face hardens when he reads the return address. “Want me to?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What are you afraid of, Polls?” He reaches for my chair, and tugs me closer so his legs are caging mine in.

  This is what’s been bothering me. I don’t really know exactly what my hesitation is for. “I think maybe because I already feel guilty enough for basically abandoning him, and I don’t want to read that and have my fear confirmed.”

  “Okay. First, you didn’t abandon him. He chose to do something illegal and, might I add, baby, more than one thing.”

  “I know.” He apparently had a history of illegal behavior that I didn’t know about upon meeting him.

  “Second, you don’t owe him shit.”

  “But he save—”

  “I know. Trust me. I know. And as much as I hate to, I’ve gotta give him credit for that. But the majority of people in the world would have done something to help you if they happened to cross paths with you. Maybe they wouldn’t have taken you in and given you someplace to live, but they would have called an ambulance. Then when you got better, you would have pulled yourself back up because that’s what you do. You’re strong, Polly. He helped you, yes, but he’s not the sole reason you’re here.”

  “I know.”

  He holds the paper between us. “Your call.”

  I can’t take my eyes off Erik’s. Somehow, he just exudes this strength that I steal from him because I so desperately need it. “Read it.”

  He slides his finger beneath the flap and begins to pull the letter from the envelope. “No!” I jump up and tear it from his hands. “No. I don’t want to know.” I rip it in half then in half again. I try a third time but the papers are too thick. I stomp my foot as I continue to struggle.

  “Give it here.” Erik motions with his fingers, so I hand it to him. He stands and walks to the kitchen, discarding the paper into a bowl. Then he pulls a lighter from a drawer and flicks it so it sparks and the flame rises. “Last chance.”

  From the other side of the kitchen island, I watch. “Burn it.”

  Chapter 19

  Erik

  Being back at Complexity actually makes me feel better. I went to the jeweler the other day when Polly was working at the diner. I took in my mom’s wedding ring to have it cleaned and checked for loose diamonds.

  I don’t know when I’m going to propose, and I’m not sure if it’s too soon, but I want to be prepared so the ring is in my pocket. Probably not the best place for a five-carat diamond to be, but I don’t want to miss an opportunity to make it special for Polly.

  As I’m making my rounds in Complexity, I stop at the bar to grab a bottle of water. I drink half of it then toss the rest before checking on the VIP section. Polly seems to be having a good night, too. She wiggles her fingers at me as I walk by.

  The night flies by, and after Polly and I drive home, we eat a shitty dinner, have sex, and then go to sleep. That routine continues Friday night and Saturday night. Same thing th
e week after, except tonight, when I walk by the VIP section, I can see the tension in Polly’s body.

  I make my way to the bottom of the stairs and grab her arm as she’s coming down. “What’s up, babe?”

  Her spine straightens before she fully turns to me. “Nothing.” She smiles one of the fakest smiles I’ve ever seen and clears her throat. “I’m good. Just busy.”

  When she tries to walk away, I don’t let her. “Someone bothering you?”

  “No. I’m fine. VIP is great. No handsy guys tonight.”

  Reluctantly, I let her go but make sure to keep a close eye on her for the rest of the night. I see her at the end of the stairs a half an hour later talking to Brad and another guy. When I get closer, I realize it’s Wyatt, Brad’s asshole brother.

  Not liking the prick that close to my girl, I quicken my steps and pull her back to my front the moment my fingers reach her. She grips my forearm and scoots even further into me. Yeah, not likin’ this at all. “What’s up?” I ask Brad. Last I knew, Wyatt was still pulling his usual shit.

  “Nothing. Wyatt here was just leaving.”

  “I’m going, brother, don’t gotta get Goliath here to remove me,” Wyatt says. He turns his attention at Polly and winks. “Always a pleasure seeing you.”

  Polly’s nails dig into my skin, and as Wyatt is walking away and toward the door, her weight becomes heavier like her knees are giving out.

  “He’s such an asshole,” Brad growls. “Makes me understand why Cain killed his own brother.”

  “Say what?” I ask.

  “From the Bible.”

  I ignore Brad’s ranting and focus on Polly, who is quivering in my arms. “We’re taking a break.” Not waiting for a response, I walk with a very dazed Polly to the Brad’s office and close the door behind us. Depositing her on a chair, I kneel in front of her and hold her hands in mine. “Talk to me, baby. You’re freakin’ out.”