Strawberry Wine

by E. Jamie

  “That’s not funny, Laura. You going off on your own, out in the open without me to back you up doesn’t sound like winning to me.”

  “I think we’ve already established I’ve always been the funny one,” Laura said, moving the plates out of the way and dealing out the cards between them.

  He scowled at her.

  “Oh, would you relax? Let’s say by some miracle you actually finally beat me, I’ll get Karl to give me a ride.”

  If anything, his scowl darkened even further. She found she liked the idea that he was jealous. Very much.

  He still sucked as much as he ever had. It made her feel good inside, that he had retained that part of his old self.

  Though she had to admit, she wasn’t playing her best either. That, however, she blamed on the beers.

  She also blamed the beers for the fact that poker had now become strip poker, Laura mused, watching Caleb on the floor across from her. He was shirtless, pant-less, wearing nothing but boxers and one sock and shoe on his left foot after a lengthy debate where he’d insisted that shoes DID count as clothes. It was sad, really, and Laura almost felt guilty when she laid down her hand. Full house.

  “I hate this game,” Caleb grumbled, kicking off his other shoe.

  He lost a sock next.

  “You okay?” he asked, looking up from his cards.

  “Hmmm? Fine.” Laura replied, distracted. Could she ever tell him? Was it wrong of her to keep this from him when there truly was no benefit she could see to him learning about a child he’d never known? Laura took another long drink from her beer bottle. This one was getting warm, but her body was starting to get heavy and lazy. She didn’t think she’d have the energy to pay the fridge another visit.

  He's gonna have a frakking aneurism. He's gonna shit himself. Could he ever love me again? Will he ever want me again? Will he think I did it on purpose? No. Laura knew he wouldn’t believe that last one. Thankfully, a nice numbness was beginning to settle over her, and she knew soon enough she wouldn’t have to think about frightening questions or anything except the fact Caleb was here with her. They were laughing and being comfortable with each other, and it was wonderful.

  There was also that other thing pulsing between them that even too many bottles of alcohol couldn’t dull. Desire. Strong and hot, and she didn’t know if it was just the beers, but she wondered if it was okay to give in to it. God, she ached for him.

  “It's just that you're not doing that annoying happy dance you always do when you win a hand.”

  “I thought I'd restrain myself. Wouldn't want to wound your pride anymore than usual,” Laura said, her mouth dry. She took another drink.

  He threw a quarter at her head. “Thanks.”

  “Not to mention all that dancing would have me exhausted by now,” she teased with a smile.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “I call.”

  She laid her cards down, and then Caleb followed. He blinked. Looked up at her and then down at the cards, and a slow grin spread on his face.

  “I’ll be damned. I won! I freaking won! Ha!” he exclaimed gleefully. “Lookie there, you blonde midget! I won! I, Caleb McKinney, beat the great Laura Thatcher! Hee hee!” Then he got to his feet and, in nothing but his boxers, mimicked her happy dance, which was nothing more than swinging his fists and hips side to side around the living room.

  “Get your sweet ass back here, McKinney. The game ain't over till someone gets naked,” she reminded him, giggling, glad for the lighthearted respite from her heavy thoughts.

  “Oh, that's right!” He whistled and pointed at her. “Get naked, baby!” His hair was in disarray, and he took a long drink, finishing the bottle and setting it next to the other empties. His stubbled face was flushed, making the blue of his eyes all the more intense.

  Then he tackled her, pressing his fingers into her sides, and Laura squirmed and squealed beneath him. He nibbled on her collarbone and began to work his way south. The lower he went, the less laughing either of them were doing. He dotted sweet, quick kisses along her stomach, and she sighed, playing with his hair.

  Caleb closed his eyes again, and when he started to breathe deep and heavy, she thought he'd fallen asleep. But instead, he brought her closer to him and moved up along her body to nuzzle her forehead, moving his mouth over the bridge of her nose and lower until he hovered just above her mouth. Laura watched and didn't stop him when they both knew she should.

  The carpet was soft against her back. It smelled faintly of lemon carpet cleaner.

  Caleb kissed her. His other hand slid up into her hair, and he tilted her head back to open her mouth.

  It felt so wonderfully right and excruciatingly wrong, and Laura wanted him to stop and wanted him to keep going. Her mind was spinning in a thousand different directions while she moved restlessly beneath him. Alarm bells told her they were both too drunk. This couldn’t happen now because they would both regret it in the morning, but she didn’t have the willpower to stop.

  She’d missed this so very much, his hands on her skin, his breath against her face, the feel of his body claiming hers with deep, hot urgency. Nothing had ever matched the intensity of this man’s possession of her.

  Her heart was swelling and breaking all at the same time. Laura met Caleb's tongue with her own, and he gave a low whimper before rolling over on the carpet and pulling her up on top of him.

  “God, Laura. Stop me. For God’s sake, stop me,” he moaned, running his hands under her shirt.

  Laura shivered. “No,” she said, pressing her hips down to feel him thick between her legs. Why not? she reasoned desperately. Hadn’t they suffered enough? Didn’t they deserve this moment to just let go and remember how good they used to be?

  Even if you’re still lying to him? a traitorous voice whispered through her alcohol-fogged brain. She shut it and kissed him hard, wanting to drive away everything but what was happening between them right now.

  They removed their remaining items of clothes, and Caleb nibbled on her lower lip.

  “Did you ever stop?” he asked her, holding her by her hips as she poised over him.

  She wanted to sink down onto him and have him make her forget. Forget this churning pain and regret and hatred at herself and the world, at this man for loving her too much and now for not loving her enough. “Never,” Laura admitted, and he pulled her down onto him, finally joining the two of them.

  Her body tightened with explosive sense memory, and she exploded before she slid all the way down. Laura arched back and closed her eyes. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, she thought while she moved on top of him and realized Caleb was whispering the same thing out loud. She lay down on top of him, needing to feel all of him against her.

  Caleb shifted beneath her and flipped them both over so that Laura was now once again on her back, wrapping her legs tight around his waist and urging him with her hips to claim her and never stop. She ran her nails down his back, and he moved his hips harder against her. His forehead pressed against hers, and their eyes locked. In that instant, he was looking at her the way he used to.

  She wrapped her arms around him and knew that she would never have the courage to tell Caleb what had happened because as much as she hated it, she needed him to always look at her the way he was looking at her right now.

  Like she was the only thing in the world he had to hold on to.

  He told her he loved her when he spent himself inside of her.

  For those few moments before she drifted off to sleep in his arms, Laura let herself believe that was true.

  ****

  Her mother was thrilled when Laura told her that she and Caleb were planning to marry.

  “Oh, that's good, girl. Real good. Maybe then you can help your momma out here? Get me all better. Betcha you can buy some good doctors with all that McKinney money.” The woman looked so small and frail in the hospital bed. Her skin was wrinkled and paper thin, and she looked so much older than her forty years. Why was I ever afraid of this
weak little woman? Laura wondered.

  “The doctors say you're not gonna get better, momma,” she reminded her, the beeping from the monitor emphasizing her point.

  Karen Thatcher's green eyes flared. “You wanna believe them doctors, don't ya? You wanna leave me here to die? You're gonna go off and live in your rich house with your white picket fence and leave your momma here to die. Wash your hands of me ’cause you're gonna be rich now?” she seethed.

  “That's not what I mean. The doctors say—”

  “To hell with the doctors! And to hell with you, you little slut. Oh yes, looks like I was right about you after all, wasn't I?” The beeping in the room intensified. “All those years I wasted when I could have had a life. All those years I took care of you, and this is how you treat your momma. You're gonna burn when you die, baby. You treat your momma like this, and you're gonna burn when you die!” Hatred came off the woman, and Laura had to step back at the force of it.

  She shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “How you took care of me? How was that, Momma? When every day with you was a nightmare? When you weren't passed out in a drunken stupor, you were beating the crap out of me.”

  “’Cause I knew. I was right. You're just no good, baby. You never were.”

  Laura was shaking and fighting hard not to vomit when the nurse rushed into the room.

  “What is going on here? Please, you mustn't upset her. I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” the petite dark-haired woman ordered.

  “Right.” Laura sniffled and lifted her chin. “I just wanted to let you know that I'm happy now. No matter how much you tried to break me. I'm okay. Caleb loves me, and you're gonna be a grandmother. I thought it would maybe give you a little bit of peace to know that. That's the only reason I'm here.”

  Her mother started to laugh. “A baby? You? What the hell do you know about babies? Garbage can't raise babies.”

  “Please, Ms, Thatcher. Let's go,” the nurse insisted, touching Laura's arm.

  “May God rest your soul, Momma. And you're wrong about that last bit—after all, Momma, you raised me.” Laura turned and left, certain that she'd never set eyes on her mother again. Finally, she was free.

  When she got outside, she was trembling so hard she bit her tongue. She stopped for a moment before crossing the street and took a deep gulp of air, pushing her mother's hateful words away. The words washed over her, no longer seeping in where they would have before.

  She waited on the curb and then started to cross when the light changed. She didn’t see the car turning the corner until the second before it slammed into her.

  ****

  Laura woke up with a scream. Her nightmare still feeling so vivid that she gripped the blanket with shaking fingers. She realized that she was now back in Caleb’s bed a second before he rushed into the room.

  “What?” he asked, wide eyed. He was fully dressed and smelled of coffee.

  Was it morning already? She looked around the dimly lit room while the last remnants of her nightmare dissipated. She could see the sunlight filtering through the blinds.

  “What is it?” Caleb repeated, and his voice cut through her thoughts.

  “Ow,” she groaned and fell over the mattress. Brief snatches of the night before came back to her when it occurred to her that she was naked. Oh God. Had they…?

  She met his gaze, and he suddenly couldn’t look at her. They had.

  Laura wanted to bury herself under the blankets. Of all the stupid things she had done in her life, making love to a man she’d ruined was way up there.

  They had just begun to be able to be in the same room without killing each other. They were working well together, and she could see a day when they were…if not best friends again, at least, friendly.

  Jesus Christ, Thatcher! What the hell were you thinking?

  Obviously, thinking hadn’t entered into the equation.

  “Bad dream?” he asked, coming into the room.

  God, it felt like her whole life had been nothing but one long nightmare.

  She made a muttering sound and covered her head with the pillow.

  Laura heard him chuckle and promise to bring her some coffee.

  When he came back, he sat down next to her on the bed and handed her a purple mug. “Look, Laura, about last night. I… Well, we were both pretty drunk. I think we can agree that it was a huge…” He coughed, and his shoulders fell. “It never should have happened. You know that.”

  She did. However, that didn’t stop her for wanting to ram her fist into his face for saying the words. Her eyes burned with the urge to cry, but Laura didn’t dare let herself. She simply nodded, silent.

  He exhaled and nodded, getting to his feet.

  “Who won?” Laura asked, remembering the whole point of the damned poker game.

  He gave a sad smile. “Nobody.” Then turned to let her get dressed.

  Chapter Eight

  Of course she’d agreed with him. Of course she had, because that had been the smart thing to do. The right thing. They were grown-ups now. This morning had proved it. They’d slipped up, but both knew it had been wrong. There was no yelling, no anger.

  So why did Caleb feel like punching something? He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel and looked over at Laura. It had been a mistake to bring her to live with him. What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn’t been. His brain had always taken a vacation when it came to Laura Thatcher. In every other aspect of his life he always tried walk the straight and narrow. Laura was his one weakness. Then she’d left, and everything around him had shattered. His entire universe had seemed to upend, and all order had gone out the window.

  Oh, there’d been other women. Deliberate attempts to burn Laura Thatcher out of his mind, his heart. It never worked.

  ****

  He'd done it again. Another woman. The same name. Laura...Laura... The woman beneath Caleb glared up at him.

  “What the hell did you just call me?” Her brown eyes narrowed to beady slits, and her passion-flushed face was now shining with fury.

  Caleb groaned in self-disgust and pulled out of her before rolling onto his back. “Sorry. Got a bit distracted there.”

  “You shit! You lousy asshole.” She moved up on one elbow and socked him in the shoulder, and he was too tired to care. He just wanted her to go so he could sleep and dream. Of her.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  The woman got out of his bed and started gathering her clothes. Caleb closed his eyes. A shoe came flying at his head, smacking into his cheek. Didn’t hurt too bad.

  “Well, don't you have anything to say?” she demanded. Debbie. That was her name. Short black hair and small brown eyes. Tall, leggy, small breasts. Everything Laura was not. Even now, as furious as this woman was, she didn’t stir his blood the way Laura did in her gorgeous rages.

  “Could you turn off the light?” he asked, and then he turned away from her and waited for the familiar slam of the door.

  ****

  He was ashamed of those times now. He did not like the man he had become after Laura left, and he’d been slowly returning to someone halfway decent again.

  Then she’d come back into his life, and he’d fallen headfirst into the chaos once more.

  Case in point, here he was with Laura on his way to see his father. All because he didn’t want Laura to go alone or with that Karl. What the hell was the deal with those two? Laura insisted that nothing was going on between them, but Caleb got a vibe from them that spoke of more than fellow officers or even just friends.

  He was jealous. God, it ate away at him that he even cared! After holding her in his arms…what he could remember of that night, the idea of her and Karl just sent a fury rolling through him.

  He was jealous. So jealous he was willing to see his father again.

  His father, whose primary interest in his sons was as a reflection of himself. Caleb had it drilled into him from childhood that he’d make a hell of a cop someday if he just applied
himself a bit more. That was all William McKinney ever saw. Caleb, the future cop who is my son.

  When he was at school, he was a damn good cadet, making good money on the side giving extra tutoring to those who were a little behind in their classes. The reason his fellow students and teachers thought he had a chip on his shoulder was that he was William McKinney's son and would, of course, never be as good as his father.

  At home, he was Caleb, the guy Laura Thatcher ha dumped with no explanation. Not good enough to be William McKinney's son. Not good enough to be Laura Thatcher's husband. Just not good enough.

  “You sure you’re ready for this?” Laura asked him at they pulled up to the precinct.

  “No,” he admitted, and she gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “But let’s just get it over with.”