by Chelle Bliss
That was when it was the hardest not to call him. I wanted him to hold me, to chase away the demons, and to save me like he had before.
Days turned into nights and hours turned into weeks as I sat on the couch staring at the television.
When I heard a car door close in my driveway, I shot up, trying to catch a glimpse of the person before they knocked.
Butterflies fluttered inside me until I realized it wasn’t him.
I’d seen a photo of her before. I opened the door, not waiting for her to knock.
“Hello,” I said, my voice a bit shaky.
“Hello, Race. I’m sorry to bother you, dear, but we need to talk.”
I glanced around the yard. “Is he here with you?”
She shook her head and frowned. “No. I’m sorry.”
Instantly, the excitement I’d felt died. “Would you like to come in, Mrs. DeLuca?” I asked, opening the door for her.
She looked down at her feet and back at me. “I can stay out here if it’s easier for you.”
“Please come in. I’d rather stay inside if that’s okay with you,” I said, backing away.
She closed the door, looking around my home. This gave me the opportunity to get a good look at the woman behind the man. She looked the same as her photo, maybe a few years older but just as beautiful.
She wore a pair of washed-out jeans with a black blouse and wedge heels. Her hair was much like his in color, with every hair in place and cut near her shoulders.
“You have a lovely home,” she said as she set her purse down on the coffee table.
“Thank you,” I said as I sat down. “Did Morgan send you?”
She sat down next to me, patting my leg. “No, dear. He has no idea I’m here.”
I sighed as my shoulders sagged. “What can I do for you, Mrs. DeLuca?”
She turned toward me, smoothing her jeans out. “I want to talk to you about my son,” she said, smiling at me. “I hope I’m not being nosy.”
“You are,” I said, laughing. “He told me about you.”
“He’s a little shit.”
“He can be that, but he loves you though,” I told her.
She took a deep breath. “He loves you too, Race.”
I swallowed hard, trying to breathe. “He loves me?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “He’s been a mess since the day he found you.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered and chewed my lip.
“He won’t even come to Sunday dinner anymore. He’s been grouchy, not sleeping well, barely eating, and just surviving without you.”
“Oh,” I mumbled. “I feel horrible.”
She touched my leg, resting her hand on my knee. “So does he. He’s hurting without you, Race.”
“I miss him,” I said. “I just can’t let him see me like this.” I motioned toward my chest.
“Baby girl,” she whispered, tilting her head. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. If a man truly loves you, things like that will never matter.”
“I’m scarred,” I whispered, not trusting my voice.
“Did you ever think about having a baby?” she asked, staring at me with her lips set in a firm line.
“Someday.”
“When you get pregnant and your belly grows big, your entire midsection will stretch. Even after you deliver the baby, the stretch marks will be there forever. Are those scars ugly?”
“Well, no, but those are from something beautiful. They’re like a badge of honor earned from giving birth to another little being.”
She squeezed my knee. “They’re no different than these scars on your skin, my dear. You lived through something and should be proud of yourself for being a survivor.”
I shook my head, glancing down at my chest. “It’s not the same.”
She touched my chin, bringing my eyes to hers. “It is the same. You should be proud that you’re a survivor. It’s only skin. What matters is what’s inside your heart, Race. Do you love him?” she asked, watching me closely.
I swallowed, understanding what she meant. “Yes,” I said, giving her a weak smile. “So much it makes my heart hurt.”
“You need to go to him.”
“I can’t,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Not yet.”
“If you wait too long, you may lose him forever.”
Tears stung my eyes and slid down my cheeks.
“Don’t cry,” she whispered, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and pulling my face to her chest. “He blames himself for what happened to you.”
I sucked in a breath, feeling like someone had kicked me in the gut. “Why?”
The tears fell faster, dropping onto her jeans.
“He didn’t get there in time to save you.”
“But he did. She would’ve killed me,” I said, clutching my throat.
“He thinks he failed you. He assumes that’s why you won’t talk to him.” She sighed, rubbing my back. “Sometimes our head gets in the way of our heart. He’s reached out to you. Now, it’s time for you to talk to him. Let him know that you don’t blame him.”
I cried harder. I’d put him through more heartache. I needed him as much as he needed me.
I wiped the tears away, sitting up. “You’re right, Mrs. DeLuca. I need to see him. He needs to know I love him and I don’t blame him for anything.”
“Let’s get you ready. I’ll take you there. We’ll surprise him.”
“Um, he doesn’t seem like the type to enjoy surprises,” I mumbled, wiping my face.
“There’s no time like the present. Imagine how happy you’ll make him if you show up at his door. Up you go,” she said, pushing me off the couch.
I stood, glancing down at her. “Are you sure about this? Because—”
She nodded, climbing to her feet. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s my son. He’s in love with you, sweet girl,” she said, holding my shoulders. “I want to make him happy.”
“I want him happy too,” I said as she turned me around, using my shoulders to push me toward the hallway.
“Then go get ready. We have a boy to see.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Paradise Found
Morgan
“Open the goddamn door!” Ma yelled, pounding on my door and waking me from my dream.
“Fuck,” I groaned as I stared at the ceiling, running my hands down my face.
She’d shown up about the same time shit had gone south with Race. I’d spent the last twenty-one days trying to avoid her as much as possible. She made it harder and harder, showing up at my house unexpectedly or “popping in” to the office to say hello.
I never thought I’d say this, but I longed for my army days, when shit was simpler.
When my heart wasn’t in the hands of a woman and my ma was thousands of miles away.
Everything was complicated now.
Everything.
I yearned for the simpler days.
“I’m coming!” I yelled as I climbed to my feet and cracked my neck.
“You better open this damn door!” she yelled again, continuing her pounding.
“Coming, Ma!” I screamed back as I thought about escaping out the back door.
I flung the door open just as her hand was about the land another blow, but instead, it hit me in the chest.
“Sorry, baby,” she muttered as she glanced up at me. “Jesus, you look like shit.”
“Thanks, Ma. You always know the right words to say.”
“Look at you.” She motioned toward my face and the stubble I’d let grow since Friday. “We gotta get you cleaned up,” she said as she took my hand and led me into my living room.
“Hey,” Auntie Mar said, taking a step into my house.
“Hi, Auntie Mar,” I said in a less-than-enthused voice.
“We have someone here to see you. You need to look better than this,” Ma said, dragging me toward my bedroom.
“Who?” I asked, feeling my stomach turn over and looking over my shoulder.
&nbs
p; “A friend.”
“Ma…” I said. I wasn’t in the mood for her games.
She pulled me into the bedroom and closed the door. “You seemed so sad, love. I had to do something.”
I shook my head, hoping she’d stuck her nose in where I’d never wanted her to stick it before. “What did you do, Ma?”
“I had a little talk with your girl.”
“What?” I asked, both excited and shocked. “Is she here?” I took a step toward the door, but Ma blocked it.
“She is, but she can’t see you like this.”
“Oh God. I look like hell,” I said as I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror.
I ripped my shirt off and ran into my bathroom. “Why didn’t you tell me she was here?” I mumbled as I brushed my teeth.
“It would’ve ruined the fun.” Her laughter carried into the bathroom.
“Now isn’t the time for jokes. She better be out there. So help me God, if you’re joking…” I said. Then I took a sip of water and spat it in the sink.
“She’s here. Aren’t you glad I’m a nosy mom now?”
I closed my eyes, hardly able to believe what I was about to say. “For once, I couldn’t be happier that you’re so far up my ass I can barely breathe.” I ran my fingers through my hair, smelled my armpits, and winced.
God, I sure as hell wasn’t fresh.
I threw some deodorant on and grabbed a shirt from the back of the bathroom door.
“Let me out there,” I told her as she still stood in front of the door.
She nodded. “We’re going to leave you two here alone. When you’re done, come back to the house for supper.”
“It’s almost four, Ma. It’s past Gallo time,” I replied as I lifted her from in front of the door and set her to the side.
“Your aunt postponed dinner until six tonight just for you and Race.”
“What?”
“We’ve had this up our sleeve all weekend, baby. Now, you go make up with Race and come back to us.”
I grabbed the door handle and glanced over my shoulder at her. “I love her, Ma.”
“I know you do. Go get her, son.”
“On it,” I called out as I walked into the living room.
Before I turned the corner, I could see her reflection in the hallway mirror.
Standing with her hands clutched in front of her, she didn’t look like the tough chick I’d fallen for over a month ago.
I took two steps forward, clearing my throat, and waited for her eyes to meet mine.
God, she was beautiful.
The sun streamed through the windows, lighting her outline and making it look as if she were glowing.
Her head rose slowly, and she met my gaze. Across the room, I could see the tears start to form and spill down her cheeks.
“Let’s leave these two kids alone,” Auntie Mar said, pulling my ma toward the doorway. “They can handle things on their own.”
“Race,” I called out, stepping toward her.
“Morgan,” she whispered as her bottom lip trembled.
She leaped into my arms.
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her body against mine and burying my face in her hair. She smelled just as I remembered.
“I’ve been worried about you, princess.” I breathed, inhaling her sweetness.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she wrapped her legs around my back and rested her forehead against my chin. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m so happy that you’re here. Nothing else matters.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. Then started to sob, shaking in my arms.
“Baby,” I whispered. “Shh. Don’t cry.” I carried her to the couch, placed her in my lap, and cradled her.
“I shouldn’t have ignored you.” Her arm wrapped around my neck and she nuzzled into my skin. “I’ve been a horrible person.”
“Come on now. Stop that. You’re here now. I have you. You’re mine, Race.” I leaned back, taking her with me.
“I know. I’ve been so selfish.” She sobbed, tears landing on my shirt as she cried.
“Race,” I whispered, rocking back and forth, trying to comfort us both. I let her cry and held her tight. I didn’t care about the tears or the fact that she’d used my T-shirt as a Kleenex. I was just happy to have her in my arms.
When she stopped, she pushed herself up, using my chest as leverage. “Can you forgive me?”
I stroked her cheek with the back of my knuckles. “For what?”
“For ignoring you. You saved me and—”
I pressed my finger against her lip. “Don’t say it. It’s in the past. What’s done is done.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled against my index finger.
There’s my girl.
Race was here. She was safe, and she was in my arms.
“Are you okay?
She nodded, giving me a small flicker of a smile. “I don’t want you to see my body again.”
I frowned as I stared into her eyes. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
She nodded again, looking at me from under her eyelashes. “I look like a monster,” she said. Then she whimpered.
I touched her chin, bringing her eyes back to mine. “Don’t ever say such a thing. You’re a beautiful person. We all have scars. Some we can see and others we can’t. Wear those with pride. You went through something so horrible and survived it, Race.”
Tears started to form again and threatened to fall. “I’ve been in therapy,” she said, swallowing back the tears.
“Good.”
“She’s helped me.”
“I’m proud of you.” I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I’ve missed you,” I said against her skin. “Are you healed?”
“Almost.” She sighed. “I talked with a plastic surgeon, and I’ll always have them.”
“Scars don’t scare me.” I wanted to take her pain away, remove the scars from her body, and put them on my own. I could live with them, but Race had been through so much already. “Can I see them?”
She sat up and stared at me. “Not yet, Morgan. I’m not ready for anyone to see them.”
I nodded. “When you’re ready. Promise me you won’t disappear again. If you do, I won’t let you hide.”
“I won’t.”
“Come here.” I pulled her toward me and laid her head on my chest. “I want to hold you for a little while.” I reclined our bodies, placing her on top of me as I spread out on the couch.
She relaxed into me, toying with my shirt. I closed my eyes, feeling her warmth.
I didn’t care if she kissed me or if we had sex. I just wanted to hold her.
* * *
When I woke, I watched her sleep. Tiny snores fell from her lips as she inhaled through her nose, followed by a tiny puff of air coming out of her mouth.
Her top had shifted while we’d slept, exposing the edge of the scars near the center of her chest.
They were faint, much lighter than I had expected.
I pushed her top back and traced the lines, feeling their smoothness under my fingertips.
Leaning forward, I touched my lips to the one above her left breast and kissed it. She stirred, and I stilled, trying to avoid waking her.
“Morgan,” she whispered.
I glanced up, my lips still against her freshly healed wound. “Sorry I woke you,” I murmured against her skin.
“What are you doing?” she said before she yawned.
“I wanted to kiss you.”
She shifted, trying to move away from me.
I held her tighter, looking up at her. “I wanted to see, Race. I couldn’t stop from touching them.”
She stiffened. “Why?”
“They’re part of you. I never want to forget that I almost lost you.”
“But they’re ugly,” she said as her lip trembled.
“No, they’re not. I love every inch of your body,” I said, and I laid my lips upon the very spot she hated most.
“I don’t know how you can look at me.”
“There isn’t a spot on your body I wouldn’t kiss. Everything about you is beautiful.”
“You just want to get in my pants again,” she whispered as she started to giggle.
“Well. That too.”
“So you don’t think I’m ugly?”
I nudged her shirt open with my nose, exposing more of the scars. “I love you, Race True. Every. Single. Inch,” I murmured against her skin as I placed tiny kisses along the lines.
Tears started to stream down her cheeks. “I love you too, Morgan DeLuca. Will you do something for me?” she asked, wiping away the tears from her face.
“Anything,” I replied, glancing up at her.
“Make love to me,” she whispered, running her fingers through my hair.
Without waiting another moment, I moved up her body and settled my mouth over hers.
I kissed her like my life depended on it, sharing the very air we breathed.
I didn’t fuck Race True.
No.
I made love to my woman.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sweet as Sugar
Morgan
Race fidgeted with her hands. “Shit, I’m so nervous.”
“Why?” I stopped walking and turned to face her. “You’ve met Ma and Auntie Mar, and without me, too. They’re the toughest.”
She shook her head. “It was different.”
“You weren’t mine?” I asked as a smile crept across my face and I cupped her cheek.
“Yes. I mean, this is your family,” she said, glancing toward the sky. “What if they hate me?”
I brushed her lips with mine. “They won’t hate you.”
“Liar,” she teased. “We didn’t make it to dinner last week.”
I couldn’t hide my amusement as I chuckled. “I explained things. They understood, princess. They thought we were busy.”
“Oh my God. They thought we were having sex?” she asked, her mouth hanging open.
“No!” I replied. They probably did think that. “They know we fell asleep.”
“Uh-huh,” she muttered and then sighed.
I grabbed her hand, holding it tight. “Come on before they come outside to get us. They’re probably all watching from the windows.”
