Mike sits up, laying his guitar on the sofa next to him. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself, but if Chet can help you figure out a certain redhead, then I’m glad I risked my ass at Bubba’s little shack from Deliverance.”
I laugh, and Chet shifts, putting his head on my lap and going back to sleep.
“Me too,” I tell Mike. “Thanks, brother.”
I’VE HAD the taste of Marsha on my tongue for days now. It’s warmth and softness and sex, and I think I’m losing my mind. I’ve stayed away from the Bronco, trying to convince myself that she’s right and this will never work. But I can’t. I don’t want to give her up again. I don’t want to lose this feeling like I did all those years ago. I want to have Marsha’s taste on my tongue always.
So I decide to do some heavy soul searching. I spend an entire day sitting in the dark in my room, cross-legged on the bed, Chet slumbering next to me, meditation chants playing in the background. I work at imagining what my days could look like, both with and without Marsha. I think back to the moment she told me that she’d made decisions about the pregnancy without talking to me first. I try to hold on to that hurt, that shock, that anger. But I can’t. And I get what Walsh was talking about. I still don’t understand why she did what she did, but I’m starting to believe it doesn’t matter, because I’d rather have her in my life than not. I’d rather let go of that chapter in our history once and for all than keep it and lose her.
My life is supposed to be about forgiveness and service. It’s the way I was raised and the path I’ve chosen for myself. I can’t be true to that if I can’t forgive one of the most important people in my own life. How can I hold compassion for all of those who can’t help themselves if I can’t hold compassion for the woman I love?
And I do. I love her. I did when I was seventeen, and seeing her these last few months has made me realize that I’ve never stopped.
I think about what it took me to get to a point where I could forgive Mike for blowing up the band, and Joss and Tammy for cheating on Walsh. I took off to Hawaii, spent weeks alone, me and the ocean. I stopped getting high, I learned to surf, and I admitted to myself that the band dynamic had been fucked long before Joss and Tammy and Mike had screwed up so badly. And I accepted that I was partly at fault. By being stoned twenty-four-seven, I’d made sure everyone else had to bear the brunt of the pressure. And don’t be fooled into thinking that all of that success isn’t full of pressure. It’s nonstop, and I didn’t do a single thing in all those years to carry my part of the load.
The same principles apply here. What was my role in everything that happened between me and Marsha? It took two of us to fall in love, two of us to have a relationship, and definitely two of us to get pregnant. Can I honestly say that it didn’t take two of us to ruin it? I know I can’t.
So it is that five days after I nearly tore her clothes off in the parking lot behind the Bronco, I go to find Marsha before her shift starts. I know how conscientious she is, and I figure she’ll be at the Bronco early.
I’m right. She is.
“Hi,” I say as I approach Jimmy, where he’s mixing drinks behind the bar. “Marsha in the back?”
He looks at me, deciding whether to let me see her or not. “Maybe. She want to see you?”
“I hope so,” I answer. “I really need to talk to her, Jimmy.”
“You know she’s worked for me since she came to town eight years ago?” He ignores my request.
“No. I knew she’d worked here a while, but I didn’t know it’d been that long.”
He nods and keeps filling pitchers, slicing limes, and setting dirty glasses into the sink with the sprayer on. “I’ve been with her through that jackass she married, the birth of little Sean, Jeff getting shipped off to the state pen. All of it.”
I try not to tap my fingers on the bar in impatience. I know there’s a point to this, but I wish he’d get to it.
“She’s like a daughter to me. If I could afford to pay her more, I would. I barely keep this place afloat as it is. I had to pay my ex-wife half the value of the business when we split. I might never recover from that, but I always make sure Marsha’s got enough to keep a roof over her head and food on the table for Sean. She doesn’t know that I called the landlord at that dump she lives in and found out what he charges for rent. When he plans increases, he knows to call me directly. I cover it without telling her. Don’t want her to have to worry about more than she already does.”
My stomach aches at the thought of Marsha and Sean in that damn place. I want her out of there, but I have to go slow. It’s like somehow Jimmy’s covering my ass by paying her rent increases.
“Look.” I lower my voice. “I only want the best for her too. I’d like to get her out of that place completely, and I have the means to do it, but I have to tread lightly. You know how she is.”
“I do.”
“I promise you I’m not hanging around to hurt her. I only want to help her. I want to give her and Sean a better life than that asshole she married did.”
He raises an eyebrow then gives one quick, sharp nod. “She’s in the office doing receipts. Go on back.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Jim,” I say.
“Don’t fuck it up,” is all he answers.
I tap lightly on the door to the office before I push it open. Marsha is sitting behind the big, scarred-wood desk, her brow furrowed in concentration as she enters numbers into a calculator.
“Hey.” I walk farther into the room.
She looks up, her eyes widening with trepidation. She gets the look of a trapped animal for a moment, and I have to wonder if maybe I should leave her alone after all. But underneath it I see a flicker of something else—a spark of lust that spurs me on and convinces me that if I can get her to listen to me we still stand a chance.
I sit down in the armchair in front of the desk. “Can we talk?”
She swallows, and I watch the muscles of her delicate throat work up and down. I itch to touch the slim column, run my hands up it before I kiss her jaw.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Marsha.” I look at her big, blue eyes. “Please.”
She sighs and pushes away the paperwork in front of her. “Okay.”
I lean back in my chair, putting one ankle on the opposite knee. I’m settling in, and by the look on her face she realizes it.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
She nods at me to continue.
“I won’t lie and say I completely understand why you made the decisions you did ten years ago, but I’m not sure that it matters anymore. You need to know that, for me, it was always about you recognizing that I had some rights. It wasn’t about what you chose, babe, it was how you chose it.”
She bites her lower lip and looks down at the desk.
“But I don’t want to be about the past anymore. The only part of the past I want to remember is that we were in love and that never left. The minute I saw you standing in front of my table, waiting to take my order, I knew my heart had been dead all these years.”
She slowly shakes her head. “I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry. But you hurt me too, and there are things you don’t know about the time after we broke up. You don’t know me anymore, Colin. And I’m not sure you’ll really want to.”
I understand what she means. She’s talking about the time she spent with that asshole she married. Jeff. And I couldn’t care less. She did what she thought was right at the time, and she got Sean out of it, so it was worth it in the end.
“I don’t care about your past, babe. None of that matters to me. I only care about who I see here today. You’re strong and beautiful and the most devoted mother I’ve ever seen. That’s the woman I fell in love with all those years ago, and it’s the woman I still want today.”
I stand and walk around the desk so I can squat in front of her. Then I twist her chair so she’s facing me and put my hands on her knees.
; “I’ve never felt for anyone the way I do for you. You hurt me when you left me out of that decision, Marsha, but I know I hurt you too when I left. I forgive you. We were young, we made mistakes, but we loved each other. Can you forgive me?”
She looks me in the eyes, and her breathing is stuttered, her pulse in her neck racing. She clutches her hands in her lap and I grasp them and gently unwrap her fingers, caressing each as I do.
“I think so, but can we ever trust each other again?” she asks, her jaw jutting out as she sucks in a deep breath. This is hard for her, but Marsha’s a fighter. She’s not going to roll over if she thinks we’re doing the wrong thing.
“I want to try. The question is, do you?”
She watches our hands entwined on her lap. Finally, she runs one soft fingertip across my cheek. “Okay. We can try.” She nods as if convincing herself. “We’ll give it a try.”
The smile that spills over my face is so big it makes my cheeks hurt. “So, you’ll go out with me?”
“We have to go slow, Colin. Not only because of our past, but also Sean. I can’t let him get attached to someone who isn’t going to be around long term.”
I nod. “Of course.”
“Maybe we can work on being friends first?”
My dick twitches in protest to the idea, but I have to lead with my other head on this one.
“Sure. Friends.” I look at her rosy lips. “Can friends maybe kiss once in a while?” I ask hopefully.
She laughs as she shoves me away from her chair. I stand up and grab her hands to pull her up as well. We look at each other for what feels like hours but I’m sure is only seconds.
“Maybe for special occasions.” She blushes and I smile harder.
“Well, this definitely counts as a special occasion, because you just agreed to let me back into your life.” I cradle her face in my hands like I’ve been fantasizing.
She inhales sharply as my skin touches hers. I pause, millimeters from her lips, catching the faint scent of honey like I always do when we’re close. Her hands clutch my forearms, and her eyes flutter shut. I press my lips to hers and it’s like a hot star has exploded in my chest. My head spins from the joy, and I struggle to contain my reactions so I don’t scare her off. I touch the tip of my tongue against her pillowy lips, and she sighs as she opens to me. My tongue sweeps against hers, the soft, silky feel of it ratcheting up my pulse. But before things can get too heavy I reel it back in, and tug gently on her lower lip as I pull away.
She’s flushed and breathing heavily.
“Kissing friends are the best kind,” I whisper.
She nods, clearing her throat before she steps back unsteadily and smooths her hands over her thighs. “I’d probably better get back to work.” She gestures at the desk.
“Sure.” I’m smiling so wide that I must look like an idiot, but I can’t help it, I haven’t felt this happy in years. “I’ll be around. Maybe I can walk you to your car when your shift’s over?”
She shakes her head like she thinks I’m an idiot. I probably am when it comes to her. “Okay, friend.”
“Okay.”
Chapter Eight
Marsha
I GAVE in. Last night Colin came to the Bronco and batted his beautiful, brown eyes at me, gave me that sweet smile, and wore a green T-shirt that totally showed off his biceps. They’re much bigger than they were in high school. Yes, I definitely noticed that. He didn’t play fair, and I gave in. Now, I’m lying in bed at six a.m. with a Colin hangover and I might be regretting it as much as a night of tequila.
Friends. We’re supposed to be friends now. Get to know each other again. Rebuild the trust. But really, how can we? How can we ever come back from the past when I’m still keeping so much from him?
I roll to my side and look out the window at the dawn light filtering across the gray sky. It’s the dawn of a new day for Colin and me. The only question is, what do I want that day to look like?
Colin and I haven’t had any talks about what happened after we broke up all those years ago. He stopped speaking to me, and I spent the last six weeks of the school year trying to survive and avoid him. As soon as the school year ended he disappeared. I heard a few weeks later that his parents had decided to move to Portland, Oregon. Meanwhile, I went to live in a group home in Dallas.
After my fourth week at the homeless shelter in Tulsa one of the social workers there noticed me and convinced me to talk to her about my situation. I’ll forever be indebted to her. She found me a safe and healthy place to live for the next few months and helped me make important decisions about my future. I’m not sure what would have happened to me if she hadn’t intervened. She’s the reason I volunteer at the group home in Dallas one day a week. No one here knows that, it’s pretty private. But I want to make sure other girls in that situation have the kind of support and care she offered me.
Colin doesn’t know about any of it. He assumes what I told him that night in the park was the whole story, and I’ve never had the chance to tell him any differently. Now I’m faced with the choice. Do I come clean or let the past be?
My alarm goes off and I sit up, already suffering from a headache and heartburn. Being friends with Colin Douglas is a lot more complicated than it looked in the afterglow of his kisses last night.
Before I can continue down my path of self-torture the booming bass of heavy hip-hop blasts through my window. I take a deep breath and try to unclench my fists. Pulling aside the curtain, I look out the window to the back parking lot. I don’t know why I bother—I know exactly what I’ll see.
Carson Miles, otherwise known as “C Mile,” is sitting in his tricked-out Trans Am, a two-ton stereo blaring right below my bedroom window. He has the door open, and as soon as he sees me looking he pops his head out of the car and gestures at me to come down.
I lean away from the window, rest my head against the wall, and inhale. Carson is a buddy of Jeff’s, and he’s taken it upon himself to “watch over” me while Jeff’s locked up. It’s not that Jeff gives a shit about what happens to me or Sean—he and Carson need a collection of victims they can harass on a regular basis. It makes them feel like real men or something.
I can handle Carson, but I really don’t want to have to this early in the morning. The last thing I want is for him to come upstairs though. He lives in the downstairs unit, but most of the time he’s not home. I’d much rather run into him in the parking lot than have him trying to get into my space. Yes, I can handle him, but I’m not stupid enough to think he’s safe.
I quickly toss on a bra, sweats and a hoodie. After I tiptoe to Sean’s room to make sure he’s still asleep, I go outside and walk down the stairs and around the back of the building.
“Marsha.” His voice oozes sleaze and something darker. Something that’s always made me leery of him. “How are you, beautiful?”
“Tired, Carson. Can you turn the music down? You’re going to wake Sean up.”
“Sure, baby. No problem.” He bends into the car and lowers the earsplitting thump. “Why don’t you come over here so we can talk?”
I always make sure to stay out of arm’s reach when I’m dealing with Carson. “What do you need?” I ask, ignoring his request.
He slouches against the side of the car, a cigarette dangling out of his mouth, the gun he wears in a belt holster there like a constant reminder of all the damage he could do if he chose to. “Jeff’s getting ready for his parole hearing next month.”
“Yeah, I heard that’s coming up.”
“He’s feeling real good about it. Thinks he’ll be out in the next six weeks.”
I swallow, trying to keep my panic from showing on my face. “Well, tell him I said, ‘Good luck.’” Then I start to go back around the building.
“He wants custody,” Carson says, the mean satisfaction in his voice spilling out over the pavement of the parking lot.
I turn slowly. “What?”
“You heard me. He wants the kid. At least fifty-fif
ty. He’s having his lawyer draw up all the paperwork right now so he can file it as soon as he’s out.”
My heart begins to race and my hands shake. This can’t be happening. I have full custody. He had all physical custody stripped when he was locked up and I divorced him. There’s no way this could really happen, could it?
I give Carson my coldest stare. “Tell him good luck with that too. No court anywhere would give a felon convicted of a violent offense custody of a six-year-old.”
Carson throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, baby, this is why I’ve always gotten so hot over you. You’re like some sort of little dumb bunny hopping around the world fucking clueless, but with amazing tits.” He very obviously stares at my chest for a moment.
I grit my teeth and glare at him, my arms crossed, my feet planted shoulder-width apart. It’s important to never show weakness to these guys. I learned that in a really unpleasant way at the homeless shelter back in Tulsa.
“My boy’s smart. He’s made friends with a pastor who volunteers there in the prison. Yeah, good old Pastor John fully supports Jeff’s plans to get his son back. He’s even got a job waiting for Jeff when he’s out. Trust me, Marsha. Jeff’s job will pay a hell of a lot more than yours.”
He shifts off the car and comes a couple of steps closer to me. “What do you think a court will do if they have the choice between a father who works as an outreach minister or a mother who’s a waitress at a honky-tonk bar?”
“A minister?” I’m unable to remove the shock from my voice.
“Yeah, what do you think of that? Jeff got God, baby. He’s got a real gig waiting for him. Outreach minister. Talking to guys like me and telling us to come to church. Old Pastor John thinks Jeff’s walk on the wild side will make him the perfect man for the job.”
“You’re not seriously trying to tell me that Jeff has been born again or something, are you?”
A Lush Reunion Page 8
