Stealing Home

by Harlow Cole

  She nodded slowly as her hands stilled.

  “I just always wanted him to be okay. But he wasn’t okay without you. You were a missing piece in his life.” My words caused her to bow her head, nodding sadly.

  “I don’t mean that to sound cruel,” I added quickly. “I just . . . I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this. And I think you should know, he always missed you.”

  I prayed she’d see my words as a gift, not as ugliness.

  She patted my knee. A simple gesture that rekindled so many memories of my mother. For the first time since she’d passed, I let myself think back on a memory of her and feel comfort instead of grief.

  “I don’t deserve the forgiveness Brayden’s given me. I know that. But he gave it to me anyway. He initially gave it just to free himself. Finding me was a stepping-stone he thought he had to cross. Something he had to do to get back to the family he’d loved and lost.”

  She exhaled a shaky breath and wiped the back of one hand against her cheek. I pressed my lips together to hold off my own growing emotion.

  She continued, “When Brayden told me your story, what happened that horrible night . . . I can’t explain what it did to me. He’s told me you feel partly responsible. And I know he feels wholly to blame. But there were dozens of dominoes that toppled over and led to that accident. A perfect storm of unfortunate decisions that started with my own. They all combined and led to your brother waking up in that hospital bed. We all share a piece of that burden. In so many ways, what happened in that locker room between me and Jack Ross kicked off one helluva chain reaction.”

  “It’s hard for me not to play the what-ifs.”

  “Lord, I know, honey. I’m a champion at that myself.”

  We smiled softly at one another.

  “When Brayden first found me, I asked a million what-ifs. What if I’d had all those years with him? What if I’d kept him to raise him myself? But I’ve learned to make peace with it. Instead of looking back, I’ve learned to focus on the future. On what can be.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

  Instinct made me reach out to her again. I loosely grasped hold of her hand. She exhaled and gripped tighter on to mine, shaking it with something that felt like relief.

  “I begged Brayden to let me come here as soon as he thought you were ready. Thanks to your mother, Brayden found me. But, now, you’ve become his missing piece.”

  She turned her head and smiled at me, so much like her son that I had to blink back tears.

  “Ashley, I came here to return the favor.”

  * * *

  Brayden

  “You’re doing the right thing here, Brayden. You just have to stay the course.”

  “I’m not so sure Ashley’s gonna see it that way,” I replied.

  “You’re keeping your promises. What more can you do?”

  “I could set things to right and walk away. Let her have what she deserves.”

  “What she deserves or what she wants?”

  “Both.”

  “Be the man she deserves. You’re already the one she wants.” My mother smiled and patted my hand before I could refute her claim. “Trust me on that. Woman’s intuition.”

  “Thank you for coming all this way.”

  “Brayden, there is nowhere else I’d rather be. Thank you for letting me see your home.” She lifted a hand to my cheek. “It’s everything I prayed it would be.”

  I nodded, pretending like hearing her talk about our past didn’t still make me a basket case.

  “You think she’ll ever really forgive me?” I asked quietly.

  “You know that better than me, don’t you? Don’t know anyone else who’s ever done as much big forgivin’ as you. Most folks would’ve never believed you and I could be standing here together.”

  I tipped my chin as I stared down at my feet, avoiding more of that damn vulnerability.

  “My papa used to always say, ‘You can’t catch a fish if you don’t cast your hook in the stream.’” She squeezed my shoulder. “That’s Texas for, You just gotta keep tryin’.”

  I nodded.

  “If you don’t want her to give up on you, you can’t give up on her.”

  “I never gave up on her,” I replied quickly.

  “When the time comes, you tell her the whole story and make sure she sees that.”

  18

  Stinging

  Ashley

  Jess hadn’t stopped talking.

  She’d told me stories about her former roommate, her classes at Columbia, and the day she’d found out she had a big brother.

  She had this magnificent freeness about her, an innate ability to overshare. She interspersed light and dark, happy and sad, with total disregard for prejudice over which she preferred to tell.

  I’d misjudged her on first sight. She wasn’t the girl everyone wanted to hate; she was the girl everyone wanted to be near—the life of any party.

  She and Joey were gonna be thick as thieves.

  She’d driven over to the marina with Brayden and Evan, but as soon as she saw the dock full of shirtless sunbirds, she’d decided to forgo the sailing lesson and hang out with me instead.

  “This is the best view in town. Will you look at that one? Jesus, that’s some good DNA. Please tell me he’s a regular.”

  I smirked as she leaned over the counter to get a better angle. Her white plastic sunglasses slid down the bridge of her nose.

  “I think I need to come stay here for the rest of the summer. Bray needs his personal assistant with him full-time. And he needs to take this rehab thing real slow. He’s gotta convince his general manager to let him stay here into the fall.”

  I tried not to let it bother me. The mention of a deadline and Brayden’s other life. The one he had to go back to. Eventually, the crystal slipper would fall off again. And I’d be left like the sweet little field mouse.

  She must’ve sensed my disquiet. She levered herself up to sit on the counter, facing me instead of the man-whore view.

  “You know he’s scared, right?”

  “Scared? Who?”

  “My brother.”

  I was really trying to get used to hearing her call him that.

  “What does he possibly have to be scared about? Seems like he’s got everything figured out.”

  “That’s an act,” she said matter-of-factly as she pursed her lips. “He’s terrified he’s never gonna play again. Or, he’ll play but not be any good. He’ll be that dude everyone says was great once upon a time.”

  She spoke of sad things, but her legs swung back and forth, loose and free of her own worry. I wondered what it was like to live like that.

  “He’d kill me for saying this, but he’s also terrified of things not working out here. You have no idea the lengths he’s gone to, to try and make things right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s just—”

  “Miss F!” Evan called out to me, interrupting her answer.

  “Oh, shit. What’s wrong with him?” Jess asked, scooting down off the counter, as she plucked the glasses off her face.

  Brayden was limping a little, stumbling up onto the path, while Evan tried to climb under his shoulder and pretend to carry some of his weight. As they clambered up toward us, I could hear the muttered curses falling from Brayden’s mouth in one long compound string.

  “What happened?” I called back, already rounding the desk.

  “I hope you know how to handle this shit—I mean, stuff. Dude is suffering,” Evan replied.

  “I’m suffering from being an idiot,” Brayden said, looking down at me. “You still got meat tenderizer and baking soda stocked up here?”

  “Oh God. How bad is it?”

  He turned around, unveiling his back to us. Ugly red welts stained his skin. They curved down along his shoulder blades and all the way to the side of his rib cage.

  Jessica’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. “What the fuck is that?”

  “Jellyfi
sh,” Brayden and I answered in unison.

  “Biggest motherfuckers I’ve ever seen,” he added. “Things had six heads and mile-long arms. Fell in the water, trying to turn near the point. Stupid freaking rudder just got stuck.”

  “You were leaning way too far, man,” Evan said, piping up the real answer as he tried unsuccessfully to squelch a knowing smile.

  “Well, look who’s the expert now, hotshot. Don’t you have somewhere to be, kid?” Brayden reached out and lightly punched him on the shoulder.

  “I can’t leave you all busted up like this. We should drive over and see my mom. She’ll know what to do.”

  “Nah. I grew up covered in these damn things. Ash is gonna doctor me up with some crap that’s gonna sting real bad, and I’ll live to see another day. We ain’t ever going out near that damn buoy again though; I can tell you that.” He smirked and then grimaced in pain again. “Don’t keep your girl waiting. Get out of here. Jess, can you drive him home for me? Left my keys under the mat.”

  He turned back to Evan. “Go brag about how you had to pluck my ass outta the water. Make it sound real good. Like superheroes against giant man-eating squid. Make ’em think we saved the town or something, m’kay? We’ve got a reputation to uphold here, buddy.” He pointed a finger at Evan and chuckled. “Don’t go telling them I fell over.”

  Evan laughed and smiled at me before he followed Jess toward the parking lot.

  “I have some in the office. Come on, let’s get you fixed up. That has to hurt pretty bad.”

  He followed me inside, shutting the office door behind him. I dug through the first aid drawer to find the Adolph’s canister.

  When I turned back around, he was standing right behind me, arms folded behind his head so that both his shoulder muscles and welts were on full display. I licked my lips and tried to ignore the sexual charge already building between us.

  “Try to stay still.”

  I started with his back, moistening his skin with a cold, wet towel. Then, I spread on a thick paste I’d mixed by hand. He groaned a couple of times as I turned him, so I could reach the most tender part near his ribs. My fingertips trailed down his sides, grazing the redness as softly as I could.

  When I hovered near the edge of his waistband, he reached down and pulled the tie on his board shorts, loosening them enough to slide down onto his hip bones. I followed along the length of the deepest welt. He sucked in a deep breath as he watched my fingers moving against his skin.

  “Does that hurt?” I asked just above a whisper.

  Our eyes met briefly before he dropped his gaze down to my mouth. His tongue darted across his bottom lip.

  “It doesn’t hurt half as bad as being this close without touching you.” Bent knuckles brushed down the side of my cheek. “You about done with this needing-space thing?” He stepped closer to me, wedging his leg between my own. The pad of his thumb skimmed across my bottom lip. “’Cause, right now, I think you need reminding of just how good it is when there’s no space between us at all.”

  My lips parted as he pressed his thigh flush against me, granting me rough friction where I needed it.

  “Brayden.” I said his name to broadcast a warning, but my voice came out too husky. It sounded more like, Please fuck me hard now, than, Back up off me.

  He didn’t need further invitation.

  His lips pressed against mine in a slow, drugging kiss. Little pecks became nibbles with just enough pressure to make me want to beg for more. His leg pressed harder against me, forcing me to squeeze my inner thighs around it.

  “Fuck. Ash, I need to be inside you.” He spoke the words against my lips before waging a full-fledged assault. His tongue swept inside my mouth as his palm cupped my backside, pulling my leg up toward his hip.

  “Motherfucking hell.”

  His tone shot from low and sexy to one of sheer pain.

  He’d pulled too high. My leg had brushed right across the deepest welt, scraping the abraded skin and grinding the salty paste I’d just applied down into it.

  We sprang apart. His face scrunched up as he looked down at it.

  “Shit. I’m sorry,” I said, backing away.

  His hand reached out for me. “No. No, I’m fine.” He sucked air through his teeth.

  I laughed. “You’re not fine. You’re in excruciating pain.” I turned and walked back to the first aid drawer, searching for something to help.

  He followed me, strong hands gripping my waist from behind. “The only thing that will leave lasting pain is the case of blue balls you’re gonna give me if you don’t climb on my dick in the next sixty seconds.”

  His lips met the side of my neck, rubbing the scruff of his jaw against soft skin. I smirked as I found the bottle. Popping it open, I spilled two white capsules into my hand and turned in his embrace.

  “Here,” I said, holding them out in my palm. “This will help with the swelling.”

  He stepped back, staring at my offering, as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Nah. I’m good.” He held up a hand.

  I thrust mine out toward him again. “Don’t be a macho jerk. These will help. You’re gonna hurt like hell all day if you don’t take something.”

  He plowed a hand through his hair, visibly shaken. “I don’t . . .” He shook his head and finally looked me straight in the eyes. “I don’t do pills. Of any kind. Ever.”

  “Oh.” I blinked rapidly as my fist curled closed around my guilty suggestion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

  “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

  I walked to the wastebasket and let the pills slide from my hand. The room felt too quiet, even with a giant elephant parked between us.

  “What did you do after the surgery?” I asked softly.

  “Jess came and stayed with me. She manned a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol for three days. Then, I went cold turkey. The doc offered me all the good stuff, but the thought of that just . . . I can’t do it.”

  “How do you recover after games? Your shoulders used to ache . . .”

  “Acupuncture. Massage. Good ole grin-and-bear-it.”

  He stepped toward me, lifting my chin with his finger. “I’m not gonna lie and say that shit is not around me still. There are guys in the clubhouse who hit junk pretty hard. And I won’t pretend like I haven’t been tempted. There were some shitty nights in the minors when I’d been stuffed on a smelly bus for too many weeks, and I wanted to numb out the loneliness. But, every time I get weak, I think about the look in your eyes when you walked into that hospital room. And I think about not being able to remember almost killing my best friend.” His voice shook as his eyes grew glassy and red.

  I couldn’t help myself. My palms ghosted over the stubble on his cheeks, pulling him down to me. My lips brushed across his, back and forth, sharing the grief of bad memories. His hands encircled my hips again as he tried to take the lead, stealing us back toward where we’d left off.

  “I want you to come to New York with me,” he whispered the words against my mouth like they were pillow talk instead of an atom bomb.

  “Wh . . . what?” I asked, pressing my hands against his biceps to push him back.

  Bright blue eyes pierced into mine. I took another step backward, forcing his hands to drop away from my body.

  “You got the job. The magazine wants to move forward with the shoot. Micky is getting it lined up. I’ve been waiting to find the right time to tell you. Come to New York with me. I have to do a stupid appearance at some opening, and we can do the cover shoot and have a little time, just the two of us. I can show you the city.”

  I walked to the window, gazing out at the sunbirds still day-drinking on the backs of their yachts.

  “Ash, maybe what you need isn’t space from me. Maybe you need distance from this place. Maybe you need some time away from here to think clearly.”

  He might as well have been one of those guys in the clubhouse, peddling magic pills and superhuman powders. Everyone had their weakne
ss, their ultimate temptation. His offer was the worst kind of pain.

  They’d come that morning.

  Two guys with clipboards, wearing Brooks Brothers suits.

  Their faces drawn straight from my nightmares.

  “Just routine,” they’d said.

  An assessment of value, a survey of the land. I’d offered them coffee with my head held high, faking like they hadn’t hurt my dignity. They’d politely declined. I guess it would’ve felt weird, taking a morning cup of joe from a woman whose life you were about to steal.

  The bank deadline was closing in too fast. My father hadn’t sent anything else or responded to my SOS. And, while business had picked up along with better weather, it still wasn’t booming by any regard.

  I couldn’t keep my head up above the tall waves.

  If I didn’t pay the medical bills, they’d come and take the house. If I didn’t pay the balance of the loan, they’d sell the marina. Something had to give.

  I was drowning in a sea of red ink.

  My options were gone.

  The New York money would be good, but it wouldn’t be enough. Liquidating assets was next. I could start breaking off chunks myself or wait for the Brooks Brothers twins to come back and sell it out from under me.

  Before Brayden and his sister had arrived, I’d listed our two best rental boats for sale. If I could get a good price, I might be able to hold things off long enough to find my father. I just kept praying he’d magically found more work and had a miracle to bring back home.

  “I can’t.”

  On a sinking ship, a good captain never abandons the crew.

  “The timing is just horrible. I can’t leave right now.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t? This shoot is the offer of a lifetime, Ash. It could kick off big things, doing what you love. We can explore the city. Eat our way through SoHo . . . shop at all the used bookstores in the Village. I know you’ll love it.”

  He was the cruelest kind of pusher, hyping his painkillers with wide-eyed enthusiasm.

  “I can’t, Brayden. Everything is too big of a mess. There are things happening here that I can’t explain. And what the hell would I tell my brother? I can’t dump this all on him and run off to gallivant with you in New York.”