Always My Own (Always Love Trilogy #2)

by Tawdra Kandle

  It could’ve been worse, of course. Jenna had flirted and charmed me into one night of hot and heavy fun, nothing much different than what I was used to getting with other girls. But Jenna was different: she wanted more. She’d shown up at the Road Block the next time I was there, sidling up to me, slipping her arm around my waist, insinuating we were more than what we were. For the first few hours, I humored her. After all, I liked the girl. She was younger than me, sure, but she was legal—I was damned careful about that. We’d been friends when I’d worked with her at her uncle’s hardware store, but I’d never seen her that way until she’d come to the Road Block to celebrate her birthday and made it clear as hell that she wanted more. But even if she was a good lay, I didn’t want her again, and I sure didn’t want her as a girlfriend.

  So I’d had to make that clear, and I hadn’t exactly been nice about it. Jenna wasn’t taking no for an answer, and I’d had to be harsh. I’d seen the look on her face when I’d spoken. She was hurt, devastated, her big eyes filling with tears. Seeing her that way, something broke in me, but before I could say anything to soften the blow, she’d turned and run out of the bar.

  A few drinks made short work of her memory, and the redhead with the big boobs who had no compunction about going down on me had taken care of any lingering regrets. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about Jenna again until I’d heard her name at the bar about a month later.

  “You hear about Boomer’s girl?” I couldn’t remember the name of the guy talking to me. He was another regular at the Road Block, someone I saw at the bar or on the dance floor, chasing skirts.

  “No, what happened?” I expected a report of a new boyfriend or maybe she was getting married. Chicks were crazy. Who knew what they might do?

  “Tried to off herself.”

  I choked on my beer. “What? What the hell did you say?”

  “Took a buncha pills. Boomer found her, got her to the hospital. Heard it’s touch and go.”

  My heart was pounding, and bile rose into my throat. Fuck. Could this really be true? I craned my neck to look up the bar. Mason stood with his hands braced on the shiny wood, talking on the phone. When he hung up, he turned around, and his eyes met mine. I watched him make his way toward me.

  “Is it true?” My voice sounded strangled, even to my own ears.

  Mason nodded. “Boomer stopped home at lunch and found her. She was unconscious. He called 9-1-1 . . . I just talked to Rilla, and they think she’s going to be okay. She was just coming around.”

  My hands were shaking as I gripped the edge of the bar. “Do they know—was there any warning? I mean . . . she never seemed depressed to me. She was always smiling and happy.”

  “I don’t know.” He leveled his gaze at me. “You were with her a little while back, weren’t you? I heard talk she left here with you, one night last month.”

  “Her birthday.” I managed to get out the words. “She was here celebrating . . . and she wanted . . . she asked me if she could come home with me.”

  Mason exhaled a long breath and ran his fingers over his short hair. “Trent, I see what happens around here. I don’t think you’re that way, but by God, if you did anything to her—”

  “No.” I ground out the word. “No. I didn’t. I mean, yeah, we—she—you know. She spent the night. But I didn’t force her, and I swear to God, Mason, I tried to talk her out of it. She said she just wanted to have one night of fun, and she wouldn’t let up. So yeah, I took her home with me. But I never make any woman do anything with me. I don’t drug them. I don’t even sweet-talk them. Sex with someone who isn’t a hundred percent into it isn’t exactly my idea of fun.”

  Mason shook his head. “I get it. Like I said, I don’t miss much, and I’ve seen you turning down more women than dragging them off. Still . . .” He raised one eyebrow. “You better hope this shit with Jenna doesn’t have anything to do with you. And you better hit your knees tonight and pray Boomer never finds out you hooked up with his baby girl.”

  Of course, my prayers about both of those topics went unanswered, because apparently Jenna confessed that her suicide attempt was mostly a result of her regret over losing her virginity to me—and my inability to return her feelings. And Boomer, hearing that explanation, came gunning for me. Not literally gunning, thank God, but close enough. The sight of the man heading for me, fire in his eyes and both fists clenched wasn’t something I was going to forget any time soon. If it hadn’t been for Mason and a bunch of other guys pulling him away, I was pretty sure he would’ve beat me unconscious.

  Even before that night, though, I’d made my decision. No more women. No more casual hook-ups. The thought of Jenna lying across her bed, wanting to end her life because I couldn’t be who she wanted—it killed me. I couldn’t take a chance on breaking another heart.

  But it had been Boomer’s threats and rants that had solidified my choice to leave Burton. I’d called my uncle and asked if I could come up to work for him, and Nolan, being the exact opposite of my mother, had said yes without hesitation. I’d come clean with him about why I wanted to leave Georgia for Michigan, and he was supportive. So I’d sold my few possessions—my guitar, my tools, everything other than my truck—and hightailed it north.

  That was a story I’d never shared with Elizabeth. When we’d become friends at Logan and Jude’s Thanksgiving gathering, I’d given her a vague answer about why I was on a sex fast. And once I’d broken that fast—when I knew I had strong feelings for this woman that went beyond both friendship and lust—that topic hadn’t come up again. We were too busy making up for lost time.

  I’d almost told her on New Year’s Eve. We’d been together non-stop since Christmas Eve, when I’d moved out of the motel and gone to stay at her house. Each day, I fell a little more in love with her. I’d known she was funny, smart and wicked sexy, but seeing her softer, more vulnerable side made me want to hold her in my arms forever. She’d talked about her family now and then, about the trials of being an Army brat and her parents’ expectations. They’d texted her on Christmas Day, but there hadn’t been any phone calls or video chats.

  “Well, they’re in Germany visiting one of my brothers.” Elizabeth had shrugged. “The time difference makes it hard, and they called me before they left. And they sent my Christmas box.”

  I’d seen the package of gifts her family had sent, and by its contents, I could tell that I knew more about her after about six weeks than they did after twenty-some years.

  On the last morning of the year, I’d lain in her bed, watching the pink glow of the sun creep into the room. Elizabeth had sighed in her sleep and turned toward me, snuggling against my side as she wrapped her arm around me.

  “Don’t leave me, Trent.” She’d whispered the words, her voice still slurred with sleep and her breathing unchanged. I knew she was dreaming, talking in her sleep. But still, what she said pierced me, and I knew in that moment that I’d never want to be apart from her. By some amazing stroke of luck, I’d found the woman who felt like my other half. The fact that she loved me, too, was even more of a miracle. I wanted to make it permanent. More than that, I needed to do it.

  So when she’d finally opened her eyes, smiling sleepily at me, I hadn’t hesitated.

  “Marry me, Elizabeth.”

  At first, she was confused. I could tell by the way her forehead wrinkled. I’d taken advantage of that, threading my fingers through hers as I kept talking.

  “We could leave this morning, drive up to Georgia. There’s a place where you can get married with no waiting. Before the new year, you’d be my wife.”

  I’d watched her eyes go soft and thoughtful. For several moments, she didn’t answer, and I was terrified that she was going to laugh at me and say no. But then excitement and joy suffused her face, and she smiled.

  “Yes. Okay. Let’s do it.”

  All the way up the coast, we’d sung along to the radio, laughing together when I botched the lyrics, which I did on purpose most of the time. I’d su
ng to her for real, too, telling her a little more about my high school band, back when I’d played the guitar. We’d just crossed the state line when she turned to me.

  “Hey, how did you know about this place, that we can get married without a waiting period? You’re not one of those crazy serial grooms, are you?”

  I’d laughed. “No, ma’am. Never been married before.” I snagged her hand and lifted it to kiss her knuckles. “Never wanted to before now.” I winked and then added, “I looked it up on my phone this morning while you were still asleep. I thought we could do it on the beach, at sunset, right there in Crystal Cove, but the waiting period’s required in Florida.”

  “Ah.” Elizabeth had nodded. “That’s okay. I’d rather it be just the two of us, anyway. Unless you wanted to call someone from your hometown? We’re not that far from Burton, are we?”

  My jaw tightened a little. “Yeah, we’re close, but no. There’s no one in Burton who I want attending my wedding.”

  “Good. Then it’s just us and the crazy Elvis impersonator who’ll be presiding, right?”

  I’d squeezed her hand. “That’s Vegas, baby. Here in Georgia, you’d be more likely to get a guy who’s dressed up as Rhett Butler or maybe Ted Turner.”

  In the end, the man who had performed our wedding ceremony looked more like Jimmy Stewart. Elizabeth kept staring at him and smiling as he spoke the necessary words.

  She said I do and I will, and so did I. Within a few short minutes, Jimmy Stewart was pronouncing us husband and wife.

  We ran from the tiny chapel, laughing. My new wife turned to me and grinned.

  “So what now?”

  I looked around the small town square. “How about dinner at the Starlight Diner?”

  Elizabeth feigned a dubious look. “Sure we can get into that place? It’s New Year’s Eve, after all.”

  “Baby, stick with me. I got connections.”

  So our wedding dinner was waffles and chili cheese fries at the diner. Afterwards, we checked into a small family-run motel right off the highway. The owner, Earl, was working the front desk, and he eyed us both with some distrust, looking at the bare ring-fingers on our left hands. We hadn’t taken the time to buy rings, though we did once we returned to Florida.

  “We just got married this afternoon.” I dug into my pocket and produced the marriage license. “We didn’t get a chance to buy rings yet. Tonight’s our wedding night.”

  Standing next to me, Elizabeth nodded, trying her best to look virginal and inexperienced. I coughed away a laugh.

  “Well, that’s just fine. Just fine! Nancy, c’mere. We got newlyweds here. What do we have we can give them, to make their wedding night extra-special?”

  In the end, Nancy produced a bottle of non-alcoholic wine and a basket of crackers with a tub of cheese. We thanked her and Earl and retired to the small motel room, both of us giggling like naughty teenagers.

  “Wasn’t that sweet? I was afraid he was about to give you the sex talk. And Nancy kept patting my arm and whispering, ‘Just try to relax, dear. It gets better as time goes on.’”

  “Oh, really? And what do you think? Should we put that advice to the test?”

  Elizabeth stepped out of her shoes and pulled her thin white sweater over her head. Standing before me, her full breasts spilling over the cups of her bra, with her short skirt still on, I thought I’d never seen anything so beautiful and sexy in all my life. I tugged her close to me, and kissed her, breaking away only to murmur in her ear.

  “I love you, Elizabeth Hudson Wagoner. My wife.”

  She gripped my ass, molding it in her hands. “I love you, too. My husband.”

  I’d made love to her that night with brand new tenderness. It really did feel like our first time, our hands gripping together as I moved within her, holding myself over her slim body. I’d never felt such a sense of peace and of belonging.

  “I’m home,” Elizabeth had whispered to me, her lips skimming my throat. “Wherever you are, that’s my home. Now and forever and ever.”

  “Amen.” I’d added it with fake solemnity, but neither of us laughed, because we knew it was true and right.

  When she’d fallen asleep in my arms, after we’d rung in the new year in the best, most romantic way possible, I’d remembered that I had planned to tell Elizabeth about Jenna today. I’d wanted her to know everything before we made those vows. But I hadn’t told her, and after that, the time never seemed right. I reasoned that there wasn’t really anything to tell. I felt guilty about what Jenna had done out of despair for what she thought was her love for me, but I didn’t regret telling her I could never love her. Now that I knew what real love was, I was all the more convinced that pretending to be Jenna’s boyfriend would’ve been less kind than being straight with her from the get-go. But really, what was there to gain from spilling all those details to the woman who was now my wife? Not a damn thing. After all, it wasn’t like we were ever going to go back to Burton, if I had anything to do with it. No damned way I’d be back in that town.

  I shifted on my creaky sofa, smothering a moan as a particularly aggressive spring jabbed into my back. In the dark of night, I could admit that I’d hoped when Elizabeth had agreed to share the apartment with us for now, she’d suggest I sleep in the bed with her. I mean, we were married, for God’s sake. We wouldn’t be doing anything wrong. But she hadn’t offered, and I’d been too chicken-shit to ask. Maybe once she got over her initial mad, she’d change her mind. I didn’t expect her to have sex with me, but just letting me sleep in half of the bed I’d paid for would be a kind gesture.

  “My God, you scared the living shit out of me. What’re you doing here on the couch?” My mother stood in the arched doorway between the living room and the hallway. Her thin cotton nightshirt accentuated her boney frame, and her bleached blonde hair, which was now more than half gray, hung in ugly strands down her back and over her shoulder.

  “Go back to bed, Ma.” I kept my voice down, which was more than I could say for my mother.

  She cackled then, sounding so much like a witch that I wanted to shake her. “Kicked you out, did she? Yeah, I know her type. Princess Prissy, she is. Too good for me, and too good for you, or so she thinks. Fucking rich bitch.”

  I pushed myself to sit up and leveled one finger in my mother’s direction. “I told you to go back to your damn bed. Now get in there and shut up about Elizabeth. You don’t know shit about her, and she’s being kind enough to let us stay here.”

  “Oh, ho, the truth comes out. She’s letting us stay here? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” Before I could explain, she was speaking again, opening her mouth and almost yelling the words.

  “She’s been sending you money all this time, hasn’t she? That’s how you could get us this place and all the furniture at once. All your whining about needing a job and all that shit—it wasn’t for real, was it?”

  I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, pain shooting through my jaw. It wasn’t any wonder I’d had almost constant headaches since I’d moved in with my mother; the stress of living with her made me grind my teeth all night. “No, Ma, it’s nothing like that. She hasn’t given me a cent. And you know what? I’m not getting into this with you tonight. I’m just telling you, be nice to Elizabeth. Or if you can’t handle that, at least shut up around her. If it weren’t for her, we’d be looking for some place else to live, and you’d probably lose the chance of going to this rehab program.”

  “I told you over and over, I’m not going to any fucking rehab. That’s bullshit. I don’t need to be rehabbed. I need you to get out of my business and let me live my life.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, a mean smile curling her lips. “Never knew you to be such a mama’s boy. What’s wrong, son, you making up for lost time? Did some therapist tell you to try to climb back into the womb or some shit like that? My fucking brother make you see a head shrink?”

  “Would you shut up?” I ground out the words. “Would you just fucking
stop talking? You don’t know anything. I have no fucking idea how you and Nolan came from the same family, because he’s the only decent, normal family I have. And I’m only here, keeping your ass out of jail, because I’m not like you, Ma. I’m different. I don’t run away from my responsibilities. So if that makes me a sap, then sure. Whatever. Say what you want. But I’m not walking away from you, no matter how much shit you give me. I’m keeping you here until you go to rehab. And you are going to rehab, Ma, because the alternative is going to prison. How do you think you’d make out there? You think you look good in orange?”

  She opened her mouth, as though she was going to make some comeback, but nothing came out. Something flickered in her pale, washed-out eyes, and I thought it might be fear. She stood staring down at me for another few seconds before she wheeled around and stamped back to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  I fell back onto the sofa, letting out a long breath. She exhausted me. Being with my mom these last four weeks had been like living with a toddler—or at least how I imagined a toddler might be. She was demanding, self-centered and had a tendency to throw tantrums. She wore me out; going to work at the feed store was actually a relief each day, because it meant I got a break from her constant haranguing and whining.

  The house was quiet again now, though, and I let myself relax a little. My mind wandered to the bedroom again, where Elizabeth—my wife—was sleeping in my bed. I wondered what would’ve happened if I’d admitted I knew I’d made a mistake when I’d left her back in the Cove. What if I had asked her to forgive me, to give us a second chance? Would she have welcomed me back into our bed tonight, or would she have thrown my apology back in my face? I couldn’t be sure.

  It didn’t matter, anyway. Everything that had happened since I’d driven away from her house in Crystal Cove had only confirmed what I’d decided in the early hours of that morning: being with me could only hurt Elizabeth. My life, my past, my mother—all of them would bring her down, tinge her perfect world with my own particular brand of fucked-up. I wasn’t going to do that. I loved her too much to see that happen. We’d get through this period of time, and then I’d be out of her life for good. Once my mom was in that rehab program, I planned to get the hell out of Burton, this time for good. I figured I’d find a job and rent a house somewhere up near the rehabilitation facility, so that we’d meet the requirements of the program and give both of us a fresh start.