by M. S. Parker
I’d watched my parents live their unconventional lives, and it had always seemed to work for them. They’d never legally married and had taken other lovers over the years, sometimes together, sometimes not, but they’d never separated. That had never been the life I’d wanted for myself, though, and I thought I’d found my one and only in Blake.
But now I wasn’t as confident that I was what he needed.
How long would he be able to deny the need he had to completely let go, to dominate in all the ways he needed? How long until he approached our relationship in the same way my parents came to theirs? Would he meet someone first and then ask me about opening up our marriage? Or would he not even want to go through with the wedding, deciding instead that it would be better for both of us if we modeled ourselves after Blair and Kevin? After all, they’d been together for decades.
“Brea, are you okay in there?” Blake’s concern warmed me, but I didn’t want to be warm. I wanted to be hot. Burning. Consumed by the fire we used to have.
I blinked back tears and scolded myself for letting my emotions run away with me. Blake hadn’t even hinted that he wanted something other than what we had. I was only hurting myself by speculating.
“I’ll be right out.” I was surprised at how strong and steady my voice was.
I gave myself another minute and then pushed down all of my doubts and worries. Blake needed me to be there for him right now. My own insecurities could wait. Maybe all these crazy pregnancy hormones would straighten themselves out, and I wouldn’t have to deal with any of the rest of it.
“Do you need anything?” Blake asked as soon as I came out of the bathroom. “Mint tea? Crackers?”
I shook my head and gave him the best smile I could manage. “I’m already feeling better.”
That was the truth, physically at least. If I laid down for a few minutes, I’d be fine. I was lucky to have such a simple solution, I reminded myself as I made my way over to the bed. I’d always considered myself an optimistic person, and it bothered me that I struggled with finding the good in this.
As Blake and I lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, I couldn’t find the positive in this gulf between us. Our arms were touching, and I could feel the heat of him under the blanket, but neither one of us made a move toward the other. I ached for him to hold me again, to curl my body into his and have his arms around me, but I couldn’t bring myself to make the first move. If he needed space and rejected me, the thin protective shell I’d formed around me would crack.
“I keep thinking about Cai’s story.”
I turned my head toward Blake, surprised that he’d spoken first.
“Something’s off about it.” I heard the frown in his voice. “Not like Cai’s lying about it, but like there’s something missing. A piece of the puzzle I know but can’t quite find.”
“Do you think talking to your brothers will help?” I asked.
“No.” He blew out a long breath. “I think it’s going to be like what happened before. I need something to jar my memory loose.”
He didn’t have to explain what he meant. It hadn’t been that long ago when his subconscious had revealed a memory he hadn’t realized still lingered there. It’d been that memory that had finally revealed the truth behind the wreck that had killed Chester, Abigail, and Aimee Hunter. That it hadn’t been an accident but rather a calculated strike against Mr. Hunter, who’d been writing a story about some dirty dealings in a pharmaceutical company.
While Blake had been grateful for the answers, it had been horrible for him to remember that he’d actually seen his mother and sister dead. I hoped that whatever his mind was trying to bring forward wouldn’t be nearly as traumatic.
“Did you hear anything about what’s up in the attic?” he asked, his body going stiff. “I mean, did Jax or Slade say anything about if they found other stuff in the attic besides the decorations?”
“Syll said something about there being boxes of papers and things like that, but the guys didn’t really look through them.”
Where was he going with this?
“Nothing about this makes any sense,” he said. “Grandma Olive buys a cabin, tells no one about it, but arranges for the grounds to be maintained, and puts a bunch of random boxes in the attic, including Christmas ornaments.”
He was right, but he didn’t need me to say it out loud. This was his way of whistling in the dark, so to speak. I’d actually heard him talking to the horses like this too, though he said he did that less since we’d been together.
“Grandfather might have known about it, or he might not have. He never took Grandma Olive’s name off of any of the accounts, not even when he added Jax’s name to the business ones.”
I sometimes wondered if Blake and his brothers ever thought about the person their grandfather would’ve been if things had been different. Their own lives would have changed drastically, but did they realize that their grandfather might’ve been different too?
“Either way,” Blake continued, “it seems strange that either of them would’ve used the attic here to store junk. Which means those boxes were probably put there on purpose, specifically chosen to be brought here and put in the attic.”
If we’d been talking about my parents, I wouldn’t have thought any of this meant anything, but that was because my parents were – as much as I loved them – flakes. They wouldn’t have had the sort of forethought needed to make those types of decisions. Not even my father, who’d once been a businessman almost as successful as Manfred Hunter. Kevin was more contacts and charm than organization and business savvy.
The entire Hunter family, however, were planners. As far as I could tell, Blake was the most impulsive of them, and even he would’ve thought things through when it came to what to put in a vacation home.
“We should check those boxes out,” I suggested.
“You think?”
“I do,” I answered honestly. “You should explore every inch of this place before we leave. Who knows what you could find.”
I blinked as the light came on. Blake was sitting up in bed, something of a lost boy in his expression. “I want to go now.”
I didn’t look at the clock and tell him that it was too late. I didn’t recommend that he wait until his brothers woke up so they could go with him. None of those suggestions would help him. He needed to do this now, and I needed to do it with him.
“Let me grab my robe.”
“You don’t have to come.”
“You might want to put on a shirt,” I said as a response to his statement. “I doubt the attic is very insulated.”
When he helped me from the ladder to the attic floor, I immediately noticed that I was right. Not much in the way of insulation. Our breath puffed out in white mist, glowing eerily in the cold white light of the flashlight Blake had grabbed. Any warmth the sun might’ve provided had been leeched away hours ago.
“Any idea where to start?” I asked. “We should have a system to keep us from going through something twice.”
He grinned at me. “Systematic organization? At least some of my good qualities are rubbing off on you.”
I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to the closest box. The space wasn’t packed, but there were still a fair number of boxes for us to go through. If we wasted time talking, we’d be here until sunrise.
We moved in relative quiet, focusing all of our attention on the boxes’ contents rather than talking to each other unless we found something interesting. While some newspaper articles might’ve interested me on a normal day, I set them aside without a second glance and moved on to the next one. We’d been working for nearly half an hour when Blake said my name.
I went to his side and immediately saw the reason he’d called me over. In his hands, he held a fireproof box. Not a new one, but an older model with what appeared to be a broken lock. While I supposed it was possible that the box was simply being used to store more newspapers and magazine articles, my gut told me t
hat this was important.
As soon as he lifted the lid, my suspicions were confirmed. I didn’t even need to look at him to know that we’d found something.
Twenty
Blake
Morning, December 25th, Present Day
Hudson Valley, New York
I’d considered not waiting to show the others what I’d found, but Brea’s cooler head had prevailed. We’d carried the box back to our room, then taken a hot shower to relax us both, even though I doubted I’d be totally relaxed as long as we weren’t at home. Back in bed, I’d held her until she’d fallen asleep, and then I managed to drift off for a while.
On her advice, I kept silent through an absolutely delicious breakfast, and then through our gift exchange. Fortunately, being a naturally taciturn person meant that no one thought it strange that I barely said anything beyond a general ‘thank you’ for each of my gifts. They were all great, and being here with my brothers and the women we all loved was more than I’d ever imagined I could have.
I only hoped that they’d see what I had the same way I did. As something good, if a bit sad.
After we ended the family video call with Austin and Estrada, Brea nodded at me, and I cleared my throat. All eyes turned to me, and Brea slipped her hand into mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Listening to you guys talk about Mom and Dad got me thinking. You know how I finally remembered about the crash?” I rubbed my jaw with my free hand. “Well, I remembered something else about that day.”
Everything went still. I couldn’t even hear the others breathing as they waited for me to share.
“They were talking about their anniversary, and I remember Mom saying something about how they needed to decide when to tell us the truth about when they got married. She said Grandfather and Grandma Olive would understand now. Dad said he wanted to wait until our first Christmas at the cabin. They only had a couple more payments before it was theirs, free and clear.”
“This cabin?” Jax’s words came out choked with emotion. “They were buying…”
“Blake and I went looking in the attic, and we found this.” Brea picked up the fireproof box. “It was already unlocked.”
“Jax and I didn’t see that in the attic,” Slade said. “What’s in it?”
“The original paperwork to the cabin.” I opened the box and pulled out the sheaf of paper on top. I held it out to Jax. “It’s all there. Rental details that list our parents as doing a rent to own thing for six years, as well as what looks like their first time renting it the day after Christmas for four days – two years and six months before Jax was born.”
“At least the whole cabin thing makes more sense now,” Slade said. “Our grandparents never talked about anything that had to do with our parents.”
“The cabin thing’s interesting,” Addison interjected, “but isn’t anyone going to mention the other part of the conversation? About their marriage?”
“The timing’s odd, but it’s not exactly a shock,” Cai said. “We now know they met before Christmas and were together for six months before they got married. A bit quick, but nothing crazy.”
I didn’t say anything as I took two more things out of the box. One was an envelope with our names on it; the other was a single rectangular piece of paper. I set them on the table and waited for my brothers to look over both. Neither one was going to offer the same sort of revelation that we’d experienced when we’d learned the truth about our parents’ and sister’s deaths, but they each had new information about the people we’d lost.
Twenty-One
Ct
Morning, December 25th, 1984
New York City
I’d never woken up next to a woman on Christmas Day before. Hell, I’d rarely woken up next to anyone at all. I tended to be more of the ‘make an excuse to leave right after’ kind of guy. And I definitely didn’t take women back to my place for the night. With Abigail, it hadn’t even felt weird.
I lay perfectly still, watching her sleep. Her dark hair was tousled, covering part of her face as she rested her cheek on my chest. One of her hands was curled over my heart, and her soft breasts pushed against my ribcage. Every inch of her delicious body was bare, the warm silk of her skin slipping across mine as she shifted in her sleep.
My cock stiffened, unneeded evidence that I wanted her again. I wouldn’t take her though, not yet. She’d been a virgin until last night, and while she’d assured me that I hadn’t hurt her, I didn’t want to risk making love to her again when she was most likely sore. I’d wait.
It was easier to make that decision than I’d thought it would be. Probably because I already knew that I was in this for the long haul. And not simply a week or month or year. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. Hell, I could barely remember a life before her, and we’d only been together a couple of days.
I needed her to understand that.
I brushed my fingers over her hair, admiring the rich color, the soft texture. I could spend hours just looking at her. I was barely aware of time passing, but then she stirred, and the world started up again. I didn’t mind though, not as long as she was next to me.
“Morning.” I brushed a kiss against the top of her head. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” she said, her voice foggy with sleep. “Did you?”
“I did,” I echoed. “But I’m also enjoying being awake.”
She laughed, ducking her head against my shoulder. “Is it always like this?”
“Is what always like this?” I asked the question even though I was fairly certain I knew what she meant.
“The morning after.”
I had a feeling she was blushing.
“Is this what it’s like, waking up in someone’s arms?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I admitted. “I’ve never cared about someone enough to do it before.”
She looked up at that, her eyes big and shining. “You care about me?”
I had a choice here. I could choose a half-truth – that I cared about her – or I could bare it all. I’d never gotten anywhere by playing it safe, and I didn’t intend to do it now.
I hooked my finger under her chin to keep her from looking away. “I love you.”
The shock registered first, but it only lasted as long as it took to be replaced by something so intense that it made my stomach twist.
“I love you too.”
I should’ve been wary of a woman who was that quick to declare her devotion, but she didn’t have an ounce of deception in her. My parents would need more than my belief before they trusted that she wasn’t a gold digger, but their opinions were concerns for another time. Right now, the two of us were all that mattered.
“Marry me.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
I smiled as she scrambled upright, grabbing at the sheet to cover herself as she settled on her knees. “Easy.” I held up my hands, palms out. “I don’t need an answer right now. It’s okay. I just need you to know that I mean it. I want to marry you. Whenever and wherever you’re ready. I’m all in.”
“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “You think you can just spout off some pretty words and that’s all it’ll take?”
She sounded curious rather than mad.
“I think you’re far too smart to believe pretty words.” I’d never said anything more honest in my life. “And I think you know that I’m telling the truth. I love you, and I want to marry you. No matter how crazy it sounds, no matter how insane people will think I am, that’s the truth. I know it in my gut, in my bones.”
She stared at me for a minute, and I let her, knowing that she needed to come to an understanding herself. When she smiled, a sense of relief went through me. She hadn’t run away.
“If you’re really that committed, then we should get married as soon as we can get in front of a judge.”
The twinkle in her eyes made me think that she was partially teasing me, challenging me. My parents would be furious, but I didn’
t care. This wasn’t about them. It was about me and Abigail.
“I agree.” I sat up. “Let me make a few calls.”
Twenty-Two
Abigail
Morning, December 26th, 1984
New York City
“I still can’t believe you did this.” I must’ve said the same thing two or three times already, but CT didn’t comment on the repetition.
“I won’t be upset if you change your mind about making such a huge commitment so quickly,” he said suddenly, stopping on the top step and turning to face me. “I meant what I said before about waiting until you were ready.”
I moved up next to him to make it easier for me to meet his eyes. He needed to see that I meant every word I said. “And I meant it when I said I’d marry you as soon as we could get in front of a judge.” I gave him a wry smile. “I just didn’t realize that you had the sort of connections to pull this off so quickly.”
“Never doubt a Hunter when it comes to getting something he wants.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. “And I want you. Forever.”
“Forever’s a long time,” I warned him.
His eyes darkened, and his voice was rough as he spoke, “And it still won’t be long enough.”
A thrill went through me, and I pushed up on my toes to meet his kiss partway. His mouth met mine, and everything else faded away. No icy wind or bone-chilling cold could reach me. The din of the city that never slept faded. I could have been in any place, in any time, and only he would have mattered.
When the kiss ended, his forehead rested against mine, our mingled breathing puffing white as we simply appreciated being here with each other.
“I never thought something like this was possible,” he said quietly. “The way I feel about you. The way I feel when I’m with you. It’s almost like it’s…”
His voice trailed off, as if he couldn’t find the words to properly express how he felt.
