Poison & Wine

by Melissa Toppen

  “That’s a promise,” Jace growls, stepping forward so that he and his father are standing nose to nose. “Fucking try me,” he warns just as I reach the two men.

  “Jace.” I wrap my hand around his bicep and attempt to tug him backward. “This is not the place.”

  Preston shoves Jace backward, causing me to lose my grip on his arm, but giving me an opportunity to step between them.

  “Well, well.” Preston’s eyes roam over my face as recognition flashes in his eyes. “If it isn’t little Oakley Pierson.” He smiles, revealing a mouth of half rotted teeth. My stomach instantly turns.

  Jace presses against my back, and I immediately turn and hold my arms out in an attempt to keep him there. The last thing he needs right now is to throw down with his drunk of a father in front of all his co-workers and Tommy’s friends.

  “Jace.” I look up at him, but his gaze is laser focused on his father. “Jace,” I say louder, waiting until his eyes come down to mine. “Don’t let him do this. Not today. Let’s go home,” I urge calmly.

  “You better do what your little bitch says. She always did have you on a leash.” Preston barks out a laugh, by which point it’s already too late.

  One-minute Jace is standing in front of me, the next he’s completely stepped around me. His actions so sudden that it takes my brain a second to catch up.

  I spin around just in time to see Jace lay the first punch, a clean shot right across Preston’s jaw. He stumbles backward, laughing as he spits a mouthful of blood at Jace’s feet.

  “Big man. Think you have what it takes. I’d like to see you try.” Preston’s expression turns downright menacing.

  “I could break you in a fucking second. Let’s not forget, you’re only the bigger man when you’re beating on children. Well, take a good look, Daddy,” Jace spits. “I’m not a fucking little kid anymore.”

  “No, you’re just a worthless, waste of space. A nobody. A junkie. I’m ashamed to be your father.”

  “Well lucky for you, you aren’t my father. You may have brought me into this world but DNA doesn’t make you a parent.” Jace balls his fists. “Now, I’m going to say this only once more. Get the fuck out of here. No one wants you here. I don’t and I know Tommy sure as hell wouldn’t.”

  “This is my son’s funeral and I have every right to be here. You want me to leave. Make me.” Preston purposely goats Jace.

  “Jace!” I grab his arm as he moves to swing again, and the momentum of his arm knocks me back a couple of feet moments before he lands another punch, this one right below Preston’s eye. The flesh splits open and blood starts to trickle down his cheek.

  The next thing I know, Jace and Preston are on the ground. Preston gets one good hit on Jace before Jace has him pinned on the ground. He rears back, landing another blow to Preston’s face and then another.

  I stand horrified, not sure what the hell I should do.

  It seems like hours pass between the moment they hit the ground to when Mike and Devin suddenly appear, pulling Jace off of Preston, but in reality it was likely only seconds.

  “Calm the fuck down.” Mike shoves at Jace’s chest when he tries to make another move toward Preston.

  Devin helps Preston to his feet. Even bruised and bleeding, he still has the same smile on his face. The one tempting Jace to come at him again.

  And Jace tries, to the point that Mike has to shove him several feet back to keep him from lunging for Preston again.

  “You need to leave,” Devin, a much larger man than Jace, tells Preston. His intimidating frame towering over the scrawny older man.

  “This is my son’s funeral,” he argues.

  “And now it’s over. Now leave before I call the police.”

  “Call the fucking police.”

  “You sure you want me to do that?” Devin gives him a look that says perhaps he should think again. “Because based on the smell of you, I’m going to bet there’s at least one open container in your car. And if I had to take a wager, my money would be on the fact that you’ve probably had your fair share of alcohol related charges. You sure you want me to get the cops involved?”

  “I’m an innocent man. He hit me first.” He points toward Jace who seems calmer but only mildly. His eyes are still pinned on his father from over Mike’s shoulder.

  “You sure? Because the way I saw it, you hit him first.”

  “What?” Preston draws back.

  “You did. I saw it. Mike,” he hollers to the man standing with Jace. “You see him throw the first punch?” He gestures to Preston.

  “Yep. Sure did.” Mike nods.

  “What about you?” His brown eyes come to me. “Who threw the first punch?”

  Without a word, I point toward Preston.

  “You’re liars. All of you.”

  “Guess it doesn’t much matter now, does it. So the choice is yours. Walk away now or face an assault charge, along with all the other charges they will likely slap on you.”

  Preston opens his mouth, his gaze wild with anger. He’s not a man that’s used to being put in his place. Though he’s withered away to near bones now, when Jace was young, Preston Matthews was a man to be feared.

  His eyes go from Devin to Jace and then narrow into slits as they come to me. I can tell he wants to say something, though I have no idea what. It’s not like he knew me well when Jace and I were younger and dating. In fact, I avoided him at all costs. Though sometimes that wasn’t possible. Especially when he’d come looking for Jace at my house.

  Now that I think about it, he probably doesn’t even know Jace and I broke up or that I moved away. Not that he cares one way or another, but it shows how far removed he is from his son’s life.

  He stares at me for a long moment before his gaze snaps back up to Devin.

  “What kind of man stops a father from attending his own son’s funeral?”

  “The kind of man who knows how much that son despised him.”

  Preston seems taken aback by this statement, yet how could it be a surprise to him? Maybe hearing from someone other than Tommy or Jace is different. Maybe seeing that other people know who he is and what he put those boys through makes it more real.

  Preston squares his shoulders and without a word, turns and walks away. We all watch him grow smaller and smaller in the distance until eventually he disappears over the hill that dips down to the road.

  I immediately turn and make my way toward Jace.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, nodding to Mike who finally steps out from in front of Jace. He joins Devin a few feet from us and the two talk quietly amongst themselves as they make their way back to the other people still in attendance.

  “How could he do that?” His nostrils flare as he stares down at his hand. It’s bleeding, two of his knuckles busted open. “How could he show up here? How did he even know about it?”

  “It was in the paper. They always run that kind of stuff. Someone must have seen it and told him about it.”

  “When I asked him what he was doing here, he acted appalled. Like how dare I question why he would come to his son’s funeral. His son. Can you believe that? We were never his sons. We were his fucking punching bags.”

  “Jace.” I rest a hand on his bicep, sensing the anger rising in him again. “You can’t let him get to you. This is Preston. This is what he’s always done.”

  “But at Tommy’s funeral?” He shakes off my hand before both of his plunge into his hair. He tugs on the strands, letting out a loud growl of frustration. “I have to get out of here.”

  “Okay, I’ll take you home.”

  “No. I need to be alone.” He abruptly steps past me.

  “Jace!” I call after him. To my surprise he stops and turns.

  “I’m fine, Oak.” His voice is softer as he reassures me. “I just need some time.” With that, he spins around and walks away, leaving me torn between respecting his wishes to be alone and my own self need to go after him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid
.

  Chapter Sixteen

  OAKLEY

  * * *

  It’s been hours. Hours since I watched Jace walk away having no clue where he was going. Hours since I was forced to get into my car and leave, not knowing when, or if, he was coming back.

  I’m thankful that Keira is keeping Ellie tonight. I’m so on edge that I’ve drank my way through an entire bottle of wine and am on my first glass of the second bottle. It hasn’t relaxed me like I had hoped it would. Instead, I think it’s made the anxiousness I feel even more intense.

  How many times did I swear I wouldn’t do this to myself again? How many times did I promise myself that my days of worrying about Jace Matthews were behind me? How many times? A hundred? A thousand? And yet here I am, doing everything I swore to myself I was done with.

  It took one horrible turn of events to bring me full circle, and now I feel like I’m standing exactly where I was four years ago. Determined to help a man I couldn’t help. Putting my life as second priority to save him.

  What am I doing?

  Better question. Why am I doing it?

  Deep down I already know the answer to that question, even if I don’t want to admit it to myself. And I can say it’s for Ellie until I’m blue in the face, and in part it is, but even I know that’s not all there is to it.

  I lift the wine glass to my lips and take another long pull, my gaze drifting to the back door where I have the perfect view of the only window in the garage apartment.

  My stomach twists when I realize the light is finally on inside. Drinking down the remainder of the wine in my glass, I set it on the island and quickly slip on my flip flops before slipping out of the back door.

  My heart is beating a million miles a minute as I cross the small patch of grass to the garage. The alcohol swimming in my veins fuels my determination.

  If he’s drunk, or worse high, I’m going to find out right now. I meant what I said earlier, one slip and he’s gone. Even though it would kill me to turn him away, I won’t hesitate to do it if he gives me no other choice.

  I lift my fist, preparing to knock, when the door opens in front of me.

  I sway to the left, not sure if it’s the wine or the sight of Jace that has me feeling uneasy on my feet.

  He looks tired, unsettled, yet so incredibly handsome. Just looking at him makes it difficult to breathe without putting forth great effort.

  He doesn’t seem high or drunk, though I think I’ve proven in the past that I’m not the best judge of those kinds of things. Or at least I wasn’t in the beginning. After a while I started to learn his telltales. And I don’t see any of those indicators at this moment. At least none that are obvious.

  He looks like he’s had a day from hell, which in all honesty he kind of has. And the fact that he’s wearing it as such, makes me almost certain that he’s sober.

  His hair is messy, his black dress shirt unbuttoned, revealing the white tee he’s wearing underneath. Dark circles line both of his eyes and there’s a small bruise on his left cheek where Preston got a hit on him earlier.

  It reminds me of all the other bruises I’ve seen on him over the course of our relationship. The thought only further deepens the anger I have toward the man that hurt him over and over again, for nothing more than sport.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have intervened earlier. Maybe I should have stopped Mike and Devin from pulling the two men apart. Maybe we should have let Jace rip Preston apart. It’s not like he’s undeserving. But if I put my vengeful anger away, I know stopping him from doing more damage than he did was the right thing.

  If he had been given free reign, he likely would have killed his father. And what good would that have done other than land him in jail for the rest of his life.

  At least then I’d know for sure he’d be clean…

  I hate that the thought even crosses my mind.

  When we were younger, before I left, I used to wish he’d get arrested. That they’d throw him in jail and force him to dry out. And he did end up behind bars a couple of times, but it never amounted to more than a day or two of time served before he was back on the streets.

  I try to push beyond my thoughts of the past and try to focus on the here and now. After all these years, the two of us find ourselves together again. Not together, together, but in the presence of one another. He’s different, that much is clear. And I know how much I’ve changed. It’s so strange, feeling like the same kids we used to be, yet knowing that we haven’t actually been those people for a very long time.

  I open my mouth to say something, feeling like too much time has passed, but for some reason the words get caught in my throat and nothing comes out.

  Jace’s gaze dips down, his nostrils flaring slightly as he takes in my thin nightgown. The one I had forgotten I was wearing until this very moment.

  I was in such a rush to get out here and check on him that I didn’t think about the fact that I had changed into my pajamas earlier.

  My skin heats as if the sun were blaring down on my back, despite the fact that it set some time ago.

  God, what time is it? I’m not sure that I even know.

  When his gaze comes back to mine, there’s something there. Something that makes it feel like a thousand tiny fireworks are erupting right beneath my skin.

  “You’ve been drinking.” His voice is low.

  “How do you know?” The words come out airy.

  “Because your skin.” He reaches out and traces the back of his hand along my cheek. “It always flushes when you drink.”

  I visibly shudder against his touch.

  “I wasn’t thinking,” I start, realizing that running over here, half crocked, to confront Jace to make sure he wasn’t drinking might have been an insensitive move.

  “Relax, Oak. It’s okay.” He drops his hand and I instantly want to pick it back up and put it back where it was. “I’m not going to see the flush of your cheeks or smell the sweet wine on your breath and go running for the nearest bar.” I hadn’t even considered he could smell it on me… “I’m stronger than that.” He steps closer, leaving only the slim frame of the door as separation.

  “I just… I just needed to make sure you were okay. Are you?”

  “No.” He blows out a hard breath. “But I will be.” With that, he grabs my hand and tugs me into the apartment.

  I haven’t even reacted before the door slams shut. Moments later, he backs me against it, caging me in with his arms.

  “Jace.” My breathy plea barely reaches the surface.

  “If you don’t want this, say it now and you can leave.” He dips his face down so that his eyes are level with mine. “Tell me you don’t want this.” It’s almost like he’s begging me to stop him, yet I’m not sure I have the power to.

  I’m intoxicated. On wine, on Jace, on the way it feels to have him so close after all these years.

  “Tell me not to kiss you.” He slides his nose against mine. “Tell me not to touch you.” I jump when his fingers graze my bare thigh. “Stop me, Oakley,” he breathes, his lips just a whisper from mine.

  I should stop him. I need to stop him. Yet in this moment it’s the last thing I have the strength to do.

  “I can’t.” The words tremble from my throat.

  “You can’t what?” He presses against me, the evidence of his arousal digging into my lower belly.

  “I can’t stop you.”

  And just like that, what little restraint he was holding onto seems to snap.

  His lips crash down on mine, so hard and full of need that I’m instantly caught up in the whirlwind that is Jace Matthews.

  My body acts on its own accord. My hands dive into his hair. My tongue slides against his. My hips buck upward in an effort to tame the sudden heat burning through my core.

  I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone as badly as I do Jace in this moment. Years of pent up frustration, anger, and regret bleed out as I tear at his shirt and fumble with the buckle of his pants.
r />   I don’t want to make love. I don’t want my heart to have anything to do with this. Right now I just want him. All of him.

  I get him down to his boxers before my nightgown is discarded somewhere on the floor. My panties are ripped from my body as Jace desperately strips me bare. Then I’m in his arms, my legs around his waist, my back pressing into the rough wood of the door, flesh to flesh for the first time in over four years.

  The heat of his body. The strength of his hands. The taste of his lips. It’s almost more than I can bear. And when he slides into me seconds later, I damn near come apart right on the spot.

  This is what I’ve been missing. This is what I’ve been craving. The passion. The pure carnal need. The pleasure. I had thought maybe I had imagined what we used to have. Mis-remembering things the way I wanted to and that was why no one else would ever come close to making me feel what Jace does. But that simply isn’t true. Because here I am, feeling everything even more intensely than I’d remembered it.

  Jace pounds into me, relentless, unforgiving. Neither of us trying to be gentle. I bite his shoulder. He pulls my hair. The wood friction burns my back, yet I only buck harder. Like a wild animal that’s been kept in captivity for far too long and is finally free again.

  I don’t think. I block it all out. All thoughts. All emotions. I rid myself of everything and focus on the physical feeling.

  His strong arms holding me in place. His incredible lips as they trace down my neck. His hard chest as it presses into mine. His thick erection as it fills me to the brink, hitting me in the exact spot to send my already building orgasm over the edge.

  I cry out, my voice echoing off the four walls around us as pleasure tears through me, burning a path from my head down to the very tips of my toes. I feel it everywhere.

  Only it doesn’t stop there. Just as the first wave passes, another begins to build. I once again tangle my fingers in Jace’s hair and hold on as tight as I can as another earth bending orgasm erupts inside of me, and this one is enough to take Jace right over the edge with me.