Dirty Talk

by Megan Erickson

  She licked her lips. “You’re not him.”

  He nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “I’ll be right back.” He climbed off the bed to deal with the condom, and Ivy rolled onto her back; muscles that she hadn’t used in years protested. She lay a hand over her eyes and decided she’d wait until tomorrow to think about how to talk to Alex. Yeah, tomorrow. Because right now, in this moment, she didn’t want to think about anything else but Brent.

  I’m not him.

  As she watched him walk back from the bathroom, a bottle of water in his hand for her and a tender smile on his face, her heart accepted those words. Because Brent wasn’t like anyone else.

  IVY SLEPT LIKE the dead.

  Brent was up at six in the morning. Wide awake. Staring at Ivy as she slept beside him. She’d washed her face before they’d fallen asleep, and he stared at all her little freckles and imperfections, and he thought this was kinda fucking creepy, watching her as she slept.

  But he’d nudged her three times. And all she’d done was roll over and kept on sleeping.

  “I thought moms were supposed to be light sleepers,” he muttered.

  Ivy didn’t answer.

  He slowly crawled out of bed, at first careful not to move the bed too much until he remembered she was sleeping like a rock. He used the bathroom and frowned at his hair, which was sticking up at all angles. But he smiled as he twisted at the waist to get a look in the mirror at the bite mark—okay, marks, plural—she’d made in his skin.

  Ivy was hot with clothes on but without them, in bed, she was a fucking dream. That fumbling making out in the back of Delilah’s shop wasn’t even close to what the real deal felt like with her.

  More than ever, he wanted to punch that Mike guy for having everything that was Ivy and throwing it away. Scratch that; maybe he’d shake his hand first, because if Mike hadn’t been a dumb-ass, Brent wouldn’t have her in his bed right now. But after that handshake, he’d still punch him in the face. In Ivy’s honor and all that.

  This was a lot, though. He knew that. Ivy came with a daughter and an overprotective sister. She was a package deal. But then, Brent came with his own package and his own family of clowns.

  They could make this work. They had to. They both wanted it bad enough. And Brent thought, at least for a little bit, he wanted it bad enough for both of them.

  He walked downstairs and had just finished making the coffee when his phone beeped, alerting him to a text message.

  Okay to bring HB over?

  Brent listened for any sounds coming from the bedroom, and when he heard none, he texted back.

  Yeah.

  He’d retrieved the paper from his front door and had just finished reading the sports section when his back door opened, and Honeybear trotted in. Brent leaned down, cooing to her as she licked his face. He straightened up and eyed Davis, who hadn’t rolled inside. “You wanna come in?”

  Davis gestured toward the stairs with his chin. “She still here?”

  Brent hesitated.

  Davis rolled his eyes. “I fucking heard you. The whole town probably heard you. Jesus.”

  Brent gave him the finger. “Yes, she’s still sleeping.”

  “Wear her out?”

  “Don’t be a dick.”

  Davis grinned. “Well, I’m out of here, then.”

  “Thanks for taking care of Honeybear.”

  “No problem.”

  Davis was shutting the door when Brent called out. “Hey, wait a minute.”

  He stopped and craned his head over the back of his chair. “Yeah?”

  Why were Brent’s hands clammy? It was a simple request. Super-simple. “Can we chat later about . . . uh . . . volunteering?”

  Davis’s brows dipped. “Volunteering?”

  “Yeah, at the fire station.”

  Davis blinked at him. “Are you telling me you want to talk about being a volunteer firefighter?”

  Brent gripped the edge of the counter. “Yeah.”

  Davis’s face didn’t move, not for a solid minute. Then his gaze dropped to the floor, where Honeybear was chewing on her stuffed dog. When he lifted his gaze back to Brent’s face, his expression was pensive. “Of course. I’d love to talk to you about that.”

  “Really?” Brent’s shoulders already felt lighter. He wanted Davis to . . . approve.

  His neighbor nodded. “Yeah, I think . . . ” He cleared his throat. “I think you’d be good at it.”

  “Thanks, you gotta know I look up to you.”

  “Actually, you look down to me.”

  “Don’t make a handicapped joke when I’m trying to tell you that you’re my hero.”

  Davis began to roll away.

  “You’re everything I wish I could be!” Brent called out as the door shut behind Davis.

  Brent looked down at Honeybear, who was watching him with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. “Did you have fun with Uncle Davis? Apparently, he’s never watched Beaches. I never told you about that time some chick made me rent that movie and then bawled and snotted all over my shirt, did I, Honeybear? Because that was the worst date ever, I gotta say.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” said a female voice, and Brent snapped his gaze up to see Ivy standing in the doorway of his kitchen, wearing a T-shirt of his that went down to mid-thigh. She was barefoot, the ball of one foot resting on the top of the other, knee cocked.

  Her hair was crazy, and her face was puffy from sleep.

  And Brent thought she’d never looked better.

  “Brent?” she tilted her head to the side and then looked down her body. “I hope it’s okay I pulled on this shirt, but—”

  “It’s fine,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m rarely speechless, Ivy. But looking at you, the words just fly out of my head. I need a minute to etch this moment into my brain, okay? You, standing here in my shirt, when I had you in my bed last night.”

  She smiled and walked toward him, standing on her tiptoes in front of him, yet he still had to lean down to brush his lips against hers.

  He slipped his hands into her hair as she lowered back onto her heels. “You believe me that I’m serious yet?” he asked.

  “I believe you,” she whispered, gripping his shirt. “And I’m serious too. Last night . . . that was serious.”

  “Hell serious,” he said into her hair.

  She huffed out a laugh and then pulled back. “You going to feed me?”

  “I’m no chef, but I can make some mean boxed pancakes.”

  “Sounds perfect to me.”

  IVY SAT ON the counter, her bare legs swinging, while Brent measured ingredients and dropped the sweet batter onto his griddle. She talked about Violet and her love of the Avengers movies, and how Violet had a boyfriend at school whose name was Preston.

  Brent had raised his eyebrows at the boy’s name, which made Ivy laugh and smack his shoulder.

  “I’m lucky my dad didn’t name me Marlboro or Camel or Menthol,” he muttered.

  “Your mom probably saved you from that,” she said.

  Brent huffed. “At least she did something for me.” Ivy didn’t answer, and he glanced at her after he flipped the pancakes. “What about your parents?”

  Ivy shrugged, picking at her fingernails. “My dad came in and out of our lives for a couple of years after I was born and then left for good. My mom . . . tried her best, but I don’t think she ever wanted to get stuck with two headstrong girls.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your dad.”

  “Guess you grew up with a lot of testosterone, and I grew up with a lot of estrogen, huh?”

  He smiled. “I could use some estrogen in my life.” He scooped the finished pancakes off the griddle and onto a plate in the warmed oven. “You and your sister get along growing up?”

  “No.” Ivy laughed. “We fought like crazy. We’re different, and our mom was gone a lot, working, and it was kind of a mess for years. Looking back, though, Alex did watch out for me in her own way. And
when Mike kicked me out, and my mom wouldn’t take me back in, I had nowhere to go but to Alex. And maybe it was because we were older, or we needed each other—I don’t know—but we put it all aside because we love each other. We can still have some nasty knock-down drag-out fights. But I guess it’s because we know there’ll never be a time we quit each other. So we can say what’s on our minds and work it out. Since there’ll always be love there.”

  She lifted her gaze, and his heart seized in his chest when he saw everything Ivy held for her sister in her heart.

  He knew the feeling though, because he felt the same way about Cal, Max, and now Asher. “No one gets you like siblings,” he said. “I’d do anything for my brothers.”

  She smiled. “So you get it.”

  “Of course I get it. And I’m glad you have Alex. Everyone should have someone like that.”

  Ivy’s lips shifted. “I worry sometimes Alex doesn’t realize how much I care about her and how much I’d do anything to be there for her, like she was for me, you know?”

  “I’m sure she knows.”

  Ivy gripped the countertop. “I hope so. I really do.” She hopped down to the floor. “Guess I can help set the table—”

  “Ivy?” He cut her off.

  She turned to look at him, and when she saw the expression on his face, she frowned. “What?”

  He didn’t want to do this, worried it’d make her upset and drive her away. But if he didn’t tell her now . . . well, he didn’t know when he would. And since she wasn’t wearing any pants, it wasn’t like she’d run out the door on him. “So I have something to tell you.”

  She turned and wrapped her arms around her stomach, like she was protecting herself. “Okay . . . ”

  “That night that I took you home from the bar?”

  “When I was drunk?”

  He nodded. “You, uh, told me some things. That I don’t think you remember telling me.”

  She stared at him and swallowed. “What did I tell you?” Her voice was a whisper.

  Shit, this was hard. “You mentioned Mike. Just that he left you after he found out you were pregnant.”

  She nodded, and her face didn’t change. “Is there more?”

  He had a feeling this next one was going to cause a bigger reaction. He stepped toward her. “You told me about Robby. And your sister. And that you left town to get away from him.”

  Ivy closed her eyes slowly and hung her head, shoulders slumped. Brent waited, unsure if he should touch her, or reassure her, or do something. But he didn’t know what to do. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I didn’t know how to bring it up—”

  “It’s okay,” she said quietly, her head still lowered.

  He dug his nails into his palms. “You sure?”

  She finally met his gaze with wet eyes. “It’s not your fault I got drunk and told you things I shouldn’t have.”

  Fair point.

  Ivy lifted her hands into her hair and gripped it into her fists. “Shit. Look, I told you about Mike because that was my story to tell, you know? And even though what happened with Robby affected all of us, that’s Alex’s story. That’s her business. And you’re her coworker and . . . ” Her lips trembled, and he reached out, tugging her to him.

  “You didn’t mean to tell me,” he said into her hair.

  “I have to tell Alex I told you. She’s going to be angry with me.” She took a deep breath against his chest and then lifted her gaze to his. “Why did I tell you all that stuff?”

  “You asked me why I couldn’t be like them, because then you would have been able to stay away from me.” It was the honest answer and as simplistic as he could get. He cleared his throat and braced himself to get angry. “What exactly did Robby do?”

  She stepped back but kept hold of his hand, like she needed it. “Alex was always the strong one, you know? I was the sensitive one who trusted too easily and fell for the wrong guy. Not Alex. Not until Robby. He charmed her until she was in love with him, and then . . . he used that against her. He never hit her, but he might as well have. He made her feel ugly and worthless and belittled her until she cowered when he was around. Can you imagine Alex cowering?”

  He couldn’t. He thought of all the times he’d given Alex shit, and she’d given it right back. That’s what he liked so much about her. He wasn’t a violent person either, but right about now, he could have throttled this Robby guy. Strong, confident Alex, cowering to a man who was supposed to love her. Yep, Brent could definitely commit some homicide.

  “So we left. Uprooted and moved because we didn’t feel like there was any other option.”

  “So you moved because of Mike and then again because of Robby?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I think I have PTSD. I see a suitcase and break into a cold sweat.”

  “Ivy . . . ” He ran his hand through her hair and cupped the back of her neck. “Alex is better now though? Now that you’re away from him?”

  “She’s better. She loves her job. But she’s embarrassed. If she knew that you knew . . . ” Ivy shook her head and squinted up at him. “So did I tell you this after I told you that I liked your butt and your face?”

  He huffed a laugh. “Yeah, it was after.”

  She screwed up her lips. “I wish I would have stayed funny instead of getting all maudlin on you.”

  “Maudlin?”

  “Yeah, all gloom and doom, and jeez, you didn’t ask for that, and—”

  He kissed her to get her to stop talking. She mumbled a protest against his lips before allowing him to deepen the kiss. He pulled back and gripped her face in both hands. “I’m a big boy. If I didn’t want to be here with you, if I didn’t want you when you’re happy and also when you’re . . . maudlin?” He raised an eyebrow, and she confirmed the correct word with a giggle and a nod. “Maudlin,” he repeated, “then I wouldn’t be there. Got it?”

  “Got it,” she whispered. “And Brent?”

  “Yeah?”

  She gripped her wrists, her eyes wide and serious. “Thank you for telling me.”

  He’d done something right for once. And damn, it felt good.

  Chapter Seventeen

  BRENT HELD HER hand on the drive home, and she couldn’t take her eyes off their entwined fingers. Plus, she needed to draw as much strength as she could from him if she was going to come clean to Alex.

  She didn’t know how Alex would react, but Ivy had to tell her the truth. She’d lied to her last night—saying that she only “crashed at Brent’s”—and that lie churned in Ivy’s gut. Her sister deserved the truth, and she needed to do it, regardless of the consequences.

  They were settled here in Tory. Alex was happy. Violet was happy. And Ivy didn’t want to run anymore. She wanted to plant roots here. Place her trust and love in a man who was unlike any other. Who was just now lifting their clasped hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to her wrist.

  She’d tell Alex, and then she’d confess to Brent everything about her past, and then there’d be no more secrets.

  Clean slate.

  When Brent parked, he turned to her and cradled her face; then he kissed her forehead.

  “I’m going to tell Alex, okay?” Ivy assured him. “This morning.”

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “It’s time.” She took a deep breath, and after a quick kiss to his lips, she hopped out of his truck. She waved to him, smiling when he waved back. As she walked up the stairs to her apartment, she remembered the feel of Brent’s hand in hers, his voice in her ear, the warmth of his bed.

  She owed it to herself, and she owed it to Brent. He couldn’t be her dirty secret.

  When she walked in the door of her apartment, she heard the television playing softly. Violet was sitting cross-legged on the floor, eating cereal out of a bowl on the coffee table. Her nightgown was spread over her knees, her bed-head hair in a mass of waves around her shoulders. “Mommy!” Violet’s face lit up. “Did you have fun? Alex said you fell asleep at Brent�
�s.”

  Ivy sank down on the floor next to her daughter. “I had a lot of fun. Sorry I didn’t make it home last night.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t mind.” She stirred some flakes around in her bowl. “Alex went to bed early, though.”

  Ivy frowned. “She did?”

  Violet nodded. “She got a phone call and then stayed in her bedroom. I knocked this morning, and she asked me to get my breakfast myself.”

  Ivy’s skin prickled, but she did her best to hide her alarm from Violet. “Okay, let me check on your aunt, okay? You doing all right?”

  “Yep.”

  She smoothed her daughter’s hair, kissed her temple, and then rose to her feet and walked down the hall to Alex’s bedroom. She pressed her ear to the door but heard no sound. She knocked lightly. “Alex?”

  Nothing.

  She jiggled the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. “Alex, can I come in?”

  After a moment, she heard a quiet, “Sure.”

  Ivy opened the door slowly, and when she peeked inside, her heart plummeted to the floor, shattering.

  Alex sat huddled on her bed, knees to her chest, wearing only a pair of boy-shorts-style underwear and a tank top. Her face was clean of makeup, and her hair was in disarray. Her eyes were red and puffy; it’d been a long time since Ivy had seen her sister cry. She climbed onto the bed and sat back on her heels in front of Alex, wanting to gather her into her arms but knowing that wasn’t the right thing to do at that moment.

  Alex looked up at her, tear tracks streaking her face. “Is Vi okay?” Her voice was hoarse.

  “She’s fine,” Ivy whispered.

  Alex closed her eyes slowly and gripped her knees tighter. “Good.”

  Ivy shifted her eyes around the room, looking for a clue, and rested her gaze on Alex’s phone—on the floor in the corner, the screen shattered. She took a shuddering breath and turned back to her sister.

  Only one person ever reduced her strong older sister to this. A man. A man who, if Ivy was given the chance, would be castrated.

  “Alex, talk to me.”

  Alex picked at a scab on her knee. “He’s looking for me.”

  Never had four words made Ivy wanted to throw up. The pancakes she’d eaten while laughing with Brent now burned like acid in her stomach. She’d lied to Alex, was selfish, while her sister had a panic attack here at home. “How’d you find out?”