Stealing Home

by Harlow Cole

  I swallowed the familiar taste of guilt and let myself look past the metal spokes of his prison.

  The damn chair wasn’t even the most unsettling thing about him. He looked like hell. Not even a shell of his former self. He’d always been pristine, perfectly coifed, and pressed to the point we called him GQ.

  My version of Nathan didn’t do sloppy.

  His disheveled appearance shouldn’t have come as a shock. I’d seen photographs. But the lens had filtered the harsh reality.

  He looked like an old war vet who’d gone off clean-cut and preppy but came home wearing long hair, a scraggly beard, and a chip on his shoulder.

  His hair lay greased back without the need for product, pulled into a nappy ponytail with strays tucked behind his ears. His clothes hung from his frame, looking bed-worn and stained. Muscles still stretched tight across his shoulders and veins crawled up the forearms that rested against the sides of his wheelchair. But, even with baggy sweats covering his legs, I could see they were a fraction of their former self. He’d aged faster than the days passed. His features were hardened by trouble and sadness.

  I’d come over here, all piss and vinegar, ready to demand he cut his sister some fucking slack. Looking at him now felt like a swift punch in the junk.

  I stood silent, forgetting the first line of my script. Nathan’s angry gaze left me raw and mutely ashamed.

  “Of course, I heard the buzz about the prodigal son returning. And, of course, I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your dick out of her.”

  I inhaled through my nose. Willing myself to stay cool. Fighting back game-day nerves.

  You’ve gotta do this. Sack up.

  “I’ve wanted to come see you. Wanted to come and . . .” I trailed off, unsure of how to introduce those two words that sat between us with the weight and stench of a caged zoo animal. “Ashley wouldn’t let me. She made me promise to stay away from you.”

  “Well, at least she hasn’t lost all her common sense.”

  I bowed my head. Picking a fight with a dude in a wheelchair suddenly felt like a lame-ass idea. Picking a fight with a dude you’d put in the wheelchair felt even worse.

  “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

  When I didn’t reply, he used his hands to turn the chair, angrily stroking the spokes to move away from me. He glided toward the ramp that led off the side of the porch.

  “Go home, Brayden,” he said, calling back. “And, by home, I mean, New York. You aren’t welcome here.”

  In my mind, his words shape-shifted into the ugly chant I’d told myself over and over as a child.

  You aren’t wanted.

  You aren’t wanted.

  You aren’t wanted.

  Half of me yearned to lash out. The other half needed to turn tail and bust ass all the way to the county line.

  I knew coming here, coming back to this place and this town, meant I’d crossed over the point of no return. It cemented the fact I’d become a full-fledged asshole, dreaming of entitlements I didn’t deserve.

  His dismissal made me second-guess myself again. But, as his wheels reached the top of the ramp, I kicked myself into motion. I took the final two steps up, squelching the voices of doubt still shouting in my head.

  “Why don’t you return Cindi’s calls?”

  He stopped suddenly, wrists pressed against metal spokes to block his retreat. “What the fuck do you know about that?” he asked, his back still to me. His head tilted slightly to the side, revealing a clenched jaw.

  “I know.”

  He spun the chair back around. “You don’t know shit, pretty boy.”

  “I know she tries to contact you once a month. I know she leaves messages. I know you’ve returned every single letter. She gets tears in her eyes when she talks about it.”

  His chest rose and fell rapidly as his nostrils flared. He glanced out at something in the yard, suddenly unable to face me. “You’ve seen her?” His voice softened by a fraction.

  “Yeah. I went to see her a couple years ago. To tell her how sorry I was. To tell her how fucking badly I wished I could take back that night. How I would pretty much do anything if I could.” I prayed he got the message loud and clear. “She’s in nursing school at NYU now. We keep in touch.”

  An open palm ran down his face, pausing to scratch back and forth across the scruffy hair on his chin. “How is she?” he asked quietly.

  “Why don’t you pick up the phone and find out?”

  His eyes narrowed with renewed bitterness. “Why the hell would I do that? So, I can hear all about her peachy-keen life? So, I can hear how she loves school and has some dipshit boyfriend who can still fuck her like normal and who plans to give her the life she deserves?” He snickered. “No, thanks, asshole.”

  He started to turn away from me again.

  I gripped the railing and called out to him in desperation, “Nathan, I know what it’s like to lose the love of your life.”

  “Oh, that’s rich.” He held his hands out to the sides. “Go ahead and cry me your sob story. I lost everything because of you, so excuse the fuck out of me if I don’t feel like letting you waltz back in here to take whatever you please. My little sister included.”

  “I can’t give you back what you’ve lost. I can’t give you back how these years were supposed to be. I would give up anything if I could. I’d hang up my glove. I’d forfeit everything I own. But I won’t give up on your sister. Stop giving her ultimatums. At least give me the chance to earn her forgiveness.”

  He scowled as he rolled his chair back toward me. I knew that look. If he could’ve thrown a punch, it would’ve been a knockout.

  “I know why you’re here. You think I don’t know?” He licked his lips and gave me a slow, condescending nod. “You’ve forgotten how well I know you. You’ve had just enough time, haven’t you? Just enough time to sit on your ass and wonder if it’s ever gonna come back.” He tipped his chin toward my arm. “I know how that feels.”

  He turned and spat on the ground with the precision only a ballplayer knew.

  That guy was still in there somewhere.

  I just had to scratch and claw my way to dig him out.

  “First couple of months, I would wake up every morning, wondering if I’d ever walk again. The wonder is the worst part, isn’t it? Then, I started with the nightmares. The ones where shit just doesn’t work. Did you have those, Brayden? All those people, the bright lights, you standing up on that pile of dirt. Did you wake up sweating? Trying to move your arm? Screaming in desperation ’cause, even in your sleep, it won’t move the way you want it to?” He paused and then added, “That’s how I wake up every night.”

  I swallowed deep, concentrating on trying to breathe. My eyes shut briefly, needing a respite from that brutal stare.

  And the brutal truth behind his words.

  “I know exactly why you’re here. My sister is either still too naïve or too stupid to see it for herself. You need a plan B, don’t you? What happens if those nightmares become a reality? What happens when the golden arm never works again? Where are you gonna go? What are you gonna fall back on? Got no real family.” He slid his jaw back and forth as that sucker punch landed. “So, you just decided to fucking come back and try to steal mine again.”

  “Jesus,” I whispered, shrinking back from him as my hand covered my mouth. “You really think a lot of me, don’t you?”

  “I think you put me in this fucking chair. And didn’t have to pay any price for it. You rolled right on with your life. And you should’ve just kept on rolling. No one needed you to look back. There’s no place for you or your backup plans here. If your arm is fucked, it’s ’cause God finally got around to dishing you out some of the Karma you deserve.”

  “Nathan, I’m so . . . so—”

  “Christ, don’t say that crap to me. You think I care? You think I care how sorry you are now? Now that you need something? The rest of us have needed a lot these last couple of years. Thanks for
fucking asking.”

  He shook his head and turned his chair back around, rolling away from me.

  He stopped again, just at the top of the ramp.

  “If my sister decides to be a repeat victim, more power to her,” he called back to me. “If she decides to spread her legs for you and get her fucking heart smashed again, that’s on her. I’m clearly not gonna be the one to catch her when she falls this time.”

  16

  Cat & Mouse

  Ashley

  “I can’t believe he’s doing this.”

  “This dude has it seriously bad for you.”

  “Why the hell is he here?”

  “Is that Brayden Ross?”

  Joey and Riley turned to look at Toni.

  Joey smacked her lips. “Yep. In the flesh.”

  “Damn. He’s even better-looking—” Toni cleared her throat. “I mean, he’s even taller in person.”

  All four of our heads cocked to the side as Brayden did a deep lunge, stretching his quad and opposite hamstring. We all ducked and tried to act nonchalant when he twisted his torso around toward us.

  Well, three of us did.

  Riley openly gawked.

  “Have you ever given any thought to filming a sex tape?” she asked, mesmerized. “You don’t have to put it online. You could just share it with a select group of us.”

  A few of the other women coming through the door did a double take and quickly joined Riley in openly appreciating the view. When he twisted in the opposite direction, his shirt rode up, uncovering a chunk of rippled abs. There were a few hushed gasps in the crowd. Half the Lululemon in the room was already damp from something other than sweat.

  “He’s seriously gonna take my class?” Toni asked in a hushed whisper.

  “This is his idea of space,” I muttered, shaking my head. “How did he even know about this class?”

  Joey turned away and started rolling out her mat.

  “Oh, you’re so busted.” I poked her in the boniest part of her ass.

  “What?” she said, all bluster and fake innocence. “Maybe he saw the class schedule when you brought him here for the photo shoot.”

  “Yeah? Pigs don’t fly, Joey.”

  She hid a sheepish grin as she ran a hand down her newly dyed jet-black bob.

  Toni walked to the front of the room and clapped her hands together, bringing everyone milling about to attention.

  “Okay, ladies”—she made a show of turning to smile at Brayden—“and gentleman . . .”

  He pressed his hands together in a perfect namaste.

  “Let’s get started.”

  Riley punched me in the shoulder. She had the smile of a bona fide fangirl now. She’d been glowing ever since he walked in and warmly greeted her by name.

  Halfway through the class, she kicked me in the leg, forcing my head up, as she pointed to Brayden’s ass thrust up into the air in downward dog. She balanced on one hand and made a squeezing motion with the other. I rolled my eyes and kicked her back, feigning like I wasn’t interested. But, truthfully, the sweat trailing down my back had nothing to do with my body movements and everything to do with the burn between my legs.

  Space, Ashley. You’re giving yourself space.

  Riley and Toni weren’t the only ones affected. The whole class fell under his spell. Even the blue hairs who usually stayed on the fringes of the room and barely bent over. Gail, the eighty-year-old bat who ran the town garden club, almost killed herself while trying a full sun salutation. She smiled and fluttered her lashes when Brayden helped her up off the floor.

  When he held on to an expertly balanced tree pose, Tamra Evanston, a newly divorced mother of three, not so quietly announced, “If I hadn’t sworn off men after Ricky, I would climb the hell out of that.”

  The entire group around her nodded their heads in agreement while they openly objectified Brayden’s flexed ass.

  By the time fifty minutes passed, they’d all given up on trying to outdo one another and begun full-fledged swooning. As soon as class wrapped, they descended on Brayden like schoolgirl groupies, giggling and making small talk with more barely concealed innuendos. I busied myself, helping Toni wipe down the mats.

  Most of the room cleared by the time I walked to the little cubbies near the window to retrieve my bag.

  “Your ass, all twisted up in these little shorts, is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. That was like working out with porn live-streaming in the mirror behind me.” He stood close enough to whisper the naughty words in my ear. So close, I could feel the heat of his sweaty chest against my back.

  I hadn’t chosen the bootie shorts and strappy sports bra for his benefit. Usually, I was among friends—women friends—and it didn’t matter if we let it all hang out.

  Having him stand so close felt more unnerving than usual. That tree-climbing idea was still too fresh in my mind.

  “I got an earful from my brother a couple of nights ago,” I replied coldly.

  “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up. I knew you’d never allow it, and I couldn’t wait any longer. It had to happen. You have to trust me on that. He’s not exactly forbidding you to see me anymore, is he?”

  “I think the phrase, Go ahead and royally fuck up your whole life, was used a few times.” I sighed, trying to forget the hurt I knew lingered behind my brother’s angry words. “You have to give me some time to work through things with Nathan. Did you say anything to him about Matt?”

  “Not yet. That’s next.” His mouth still hovered near my ear.

  Goose bumps covered my arms. Being near him was like a plated chocolate cupcake on the first day of a diet.

  After you tell yourself you can’t have something anymore, you want it twice as bad.

  “You were supposed to be giving me some room to think.”

  A large hand splayed across my belly, inches above where my body really wanted it. His chest pressed fully against me as he thrust proof of just how turned on he’d become into the crack of my ass.

  “Can’t help it. How am I supposed to stay away from you when my dick is hard as a rock?”

  “Brayden,” I answered in an angry whisper, turning my head to the side to gauge who was in the room, playing witness to his stealthy advance.

  If Connie Cularko, the president of the elementary PTA and the town’s resident loudmouth, saw Brayden’s hands on me this way, she’d have her network buzzing by lunch.

  “Sorry, baby girl. Now, you’ve gotta stand here a minute till I get myself under control. Unless you want everyone to see the state I’m in. Just keep still and give me some cover while you think about how badly I wanna peel these things down your legs and bend you around my cock. I haven’t been inside your pussy in eleven days. That’s way too much space.”

  His other hand pulled against my hip, grinding me back harder against him.

  “Doing that isn’t gonna help your situation,” I said, hissing at him, as I turned my head enough to look over my shoulder.

  “The only thing that’s gonna help my situation is me throwing you over my shoulder, carrying you out to my car, and driving as fast as possible down Route 33 till I find a deserted spot where I can lay you out on my hood and fuck the daylights out of you.”

  My lips puckered as I fought against the O my mouth wanted to form. His eyes mirrored my response, dipping down to stare at my lips. He smirked like the devil.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Give me the fuck-me eyes and that cocky, lopsided grin. It’s not fair.”

  The side of his mouth crooked up a little higher. “Did I ever say I intended to play fair?”

  He threw the gauntlet, just hard enough, I decided the time had come to play him by his own rules.

  Game on, mister.

  “You’re right.” I twisted around, putting a little breathing room between us as I threaded my hand up and tugged a little on the hair at the back of his neck. Then, I trailed my fingers down over h
is collarbone, so I could feel up his pecs. My palm flattened out against him, fully groping without shame. “But I think I’d rather you spread me out on the hot metal and went down on me first. My clit misses your wicked tongue. And that might be safer for your paint job.”

  His mouth dropped open, stunned.

  My hand fell to my side as I took one more quick step back, far enough to glance down at the impressive bulge in his shorts. “I’ve gotta get to work. Too bad for you. You know I always return the favor, and as I recall, you always thought I gave great road head.”

  I moved around him faster than he could grab me, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I walked to the door. He muttered a string of expletives and took the Lord’s name in vain.

  “Good luck with your little issue, Dallas. Hope you get it figured out.”

  I paused as I finished my challenge. Connie and her crew of gossip whores still lingered in the hallway, just outside the door. They were salivating like they’d just watched the best reality TV show ever recorded.

  I put my head down and plowed through their knowing smiles.

  * * *

  Brayden

  Ashley didn’t really want space.

  But I figured giving her some might help her figure that out.

  I kept a low profile, avoided the marina, didn’t venture into town. Kept hoping a couple of days might actually make her miss me. I focused on pushing myself a little, doubling up on my workouts.

  A calendar hung on the wall with a big red X marking the spot. The date beneath it simultaneously felt way too close and far. The skin on the tips of my fingers had grown annoyingly soft. I missed the feel of the ball. Missed rubbing it across the seam running up my thigh. Missed the scratch of the laces in the center of my palm.

  I wanted all that back.

  But the thought of that first throw, that very first one, made chunks rise in the back of my throat. Nathan was wrong about a lot of things, but about the night sweats and terrors, he was right on the mark.

  When you make a living playing a game, a big ego becomes a part of the uniform. You slip it on every day as you drive to the park.

  When I stood on that mound and stared down an opponent, I had to believe I would wreck him. In my mind, every time I wound up, I could already hear the ball pop into my catcher’s glove. I could already see an orphaned bat, fanning nothing but air.