by Lexi Ryan
“Do you want her back?”
“No!” I shake my head, and a tremor passes through my whole body, as if I need to shake off the secret thought he dared bring into the light. “I mean, yes. On a completely emotional, non-intellectual level, I’ll always wish she could be mine. And if something were to happen to Sarah, I’d hope that I’d get to be the one to raise Faith. But Sarah’s her mom, you know? I believed I was doing the best thing for her, and despite all the unexpected bumps in the road, I still believe I did. There was hardly enough room for me and Mom in our trailer. I can’t imagine bringing a baby into that space. And then would I have finished high school? Would I have gone to college? Would I have been able to do anything other than strip to care for her? What kind of life is that? Mom’s gone every night, waiting for Daddy to get out of prison and praying he stays straight once he does? It’s complicated. I can’t pretend that I don’t wish she was mine, because I’ve walked around with a piece of me missing since the day I handed her over in the hospital. She’s wanted, but I loved her enough even from that first day to choose to walk around halfhearted. I love her enough that I’d make that choice again.”
“I wish I’d had half your courage when I was younger.” He shakes his head. “Half your selflessness.”
“That’s why I’m making the scrapbook,” I say. “She’ll never meet her father, so I want her to have these pictures. I want her to have something of him.”
Mason puts his wine glass down and studies me. “You amaze me.” Stepping around the island, he takes my glass out of my hand to put it on the counter. He pulls my body against his and lowers his mouth to mine, and I melt into him. We’ve kissed thousands of times before tonight, but now something’s changed. He knows about Faith. I’ve been frozen in ice, and he’s the sun, slowly setting me free.
His hands are gentle on me, sliding over my hair, slipping under my shirt, skimming across my belly. Every touch makes me want to get closer, to show him more. My love for Mason has kept me on the precipice for years, and I’ve always been afraid to jump. In this moment, I believe he’d catch me. He’d forgive me.
He unbuttons my jeans, but I stop him before he can push them from my hips. I can’t let this just be about me. Not tonight. I fumble between our bodies until I find the button to his jeans. It releases, followed by the slow slide of his zipper. I slide a hand inside his briefs, and we both groan. I drag my fist over him in long, tight strokes.
His hips jut forward as he thrusts himself against my hand. With a handful of my hair in his fist, he brings my mouth back to his. His kisses are harder now, deeper and more demanding. When we break it, our bodies rocking toward each other, I lock my gaze with his before I drop to my knees.
“Fuck, Bailey,” he breathes.
I keep one hand wrapped around the base of his cock and settle the other on his hip as I open my mouth and slide it over him, taking him deep, using my tongue and my cheeks. He loosens his grip on my hair, and I moan as he gently guides me back and forth over the length of him. I can tell he’s trying to slow me down, trying to make this last.
It’s not long before he guides me to my feet, and I’m so desperate for him, I don’t object. He leads me upstairs and into the bedroom. We watch each other while we strip, and when we climb into bed, he settles on top of me, his hands framing my face, his length positioned between my legs.
After tonight, I feel as if I’m naked for the first time, as if he’s really seeing me and isn’t running away.
“I can get a condom,” he says. Other than our one time without in the pool, we’ve been using protection. “If you’re worried about . . .”
“I’m on the pill, but if you’d rather . . .”
We stare at each other for several breaths before he grins. “I’d rather have nothing between us. I’m trying to be considerate.”
“It’s okay. I was on nothing but stupidity when I got pregnant with Faith.” I lift my hips. “I like you like this.”
His eyes close as he slides into me, and the sound of his satisfied exhale is as exhilarating as the way he fills me. “You feel amazing,” he murmurs against my mouth.
We’ve had sex a hundred times, but tonight we find a new rhythm. Our movements are slower, our caresses more lingering. I’m liquid set free and slowly rolling out to meet the sea.
I know we should sleep—he has to be up early for practice before the team leaves for New York for their first regular season game, and I have an appointment with a new client—but neither of us seems inclined. We made love and then showered together, and now we’re in bed, lying on our sides and looking into each other’s eyes.
“Tell me about Nic,” Mason says.
At first I don’t think I heard him right. Mason hated Nic, and tonight has been about us. “What?”
“Tell me about Nic Mendez. I’ve been a jerk about him, but I think I understand now why he was so important to you.” He tucks my hair behind my ear and brushes my cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. “I want to know all of you, Bailey. Even the pieces that will never be mine.”
Something in my chest aches at the idea of Mason believing I picked Nic over him. I suppose in a way I did. But I was picking Nic’s life over my happiness. Mason was so damn good. He could have anyone, and I was sure he’d eventually want someone better than me. “He wasn’t all bad,” I say. “He spent a lot of years trying to ignore me and doing his damnedest to convince me he wasn’t interested. But I wore him down.”
“Mmm.” His chest rumbles with his groan. “To be pursued by Bailey Green. Poor guy. Sounds like a really rough life.”
“I’d think you’d know something about it. I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of the last three years trying to get you to sleep with me again.”
“Ah, yes, but I wanted more than your body.” There’s no bitterness in his words. Just truth. His hand cups my ass, and he tugs me closer so our hips are pressed against each other. “What else?”
“He was stubborn and reckless. But he could also be sweet and thoughtful.”
“Thoughtful, like flowers and poetry?”
I laugh. “No. Nic definitely wasn’t a poet. He didn’t talk much at all, actually. I talked enough for both of us.”
Mason’s quiet now, skimming his knuckles back and forth over my arm as he listens. I’ve never gotten to talk about Nic like this, and it’s both odd and touching that Mason is giving me the chance.
“He’d take me out. Neither of us had any money, so dates would be grabbing a pizza and a six-pack and going to the lake. Sometimes he’d drive me to the airport and we’d watch the planes take off in the dark. It was always a push-pull with him. Like he was the ocean and I was the shore. He’d come and then he’d pull away, and then he’d return only to pull away again, every time taking a little more of me with him.”
“Do you think you two would be together now if he hadn’t died?”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t with him before he died. I still loved him, but he kept pushing me away.”
“What would have happened if he hadn’t been arrested? Would you have kept the baby?”
I roll to my back and stretch my arms above my head. “If he hadn’t been caught, I imagine we would have tried to raise the baby ourselves. We hadn’t gotten that far yet. He was arrested only a few days after I found out I was pregnant, and we were still trying to digest the information.”
“I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.” Mason settles the flat of his palm against my belly. “You were practically still a child and pregnant, and he wasn’t there to help.”
“Before he was arrested, I imagined he’d get us a little apartment, and he’d clean up his act. We’d be another young couple just scraping by, but it would be fine because at the end of the day, we’d get to come home to each other and maybe the baby would be the thing to finally make him go straight.” I close my eyes, and it’s as if the room disappears around me. I’m back in Nic’s room watching him pace a hole into the carpet. He t
ried to be calm, but the idea of having a kid had terrified him.
Seconds stretch into minutes, and even though her body is next to me, her mind is somewhere else. The click of the ceiling fan overhead measures time while I wait, giving her the space the subject matter demands. I wonder if she’s done talking tonight. Maybe I should let it go. Maybe I should tell her my own secret and just how well I understand what she’s been through. She finally opens her eyes. “It’s my fault he got caught.”
“Bailey, no.” I rub my thumb beneath her breasts. “Don’t do that to yourself. He made his own decisions.”
She swallows. “But it’s true. I knew he was doing some minor deals for this guy in town—Clarence. Clarence had a way of keeping his boys under his thumb. Once you got in, it was almost impossible to get out. The day Nic got caught, I’d heard him talking to Clarence about an exchange. Nic wasn’t going to be able to do it, because the other guy didn’t like him. I called in a tip to the cops, thinking it was my chance to bring down Clarence so Nic could go straight.”
“But Nic ended up being the one to do the exchange,” I finish, because I can tell saying the words out loud is tearing her apart.
She nods. “If I hadn’t made that call, they wouldn’t have pulled him over. He wouldn’t have been sent to prison, and we would have kept the baby.”
“Nic made his own choices. He was arrested because he was breaking the law.” I press a kiss to her bare shoulder. “You don’t need this guilt weighing you down.”
“The worst part,” she whispers, “isn’t just that it was my fault he was arrested. The worst part is that, more than once, I’ve thought how grateful I am that he was put away.”
I draw in breath. I didn’t expect that. I thought she’d have done anything to keep Nic.
She rolls to face me again and curls her arms into her chest. “I hate that he had to go to prison and I still loved him, but we did the very best thing we could have done for Faith. I don’t think I would have been brave enough to do it if he hadn’t been in such trouble.”
“You have more courage than anyone I know.”
“Then why can’t I find the courage to be with you?”
I pull her close and bury my face in her shoulder to hide my expression. I love that she’s opened up to me, but I still don’t know where I stand with her or if she still has secrets. Why else would she need courage?
I comb my fingers through her hair and pull back to look in her eyes. My secrets can wait. Tonight is about her. “He was your first love. I’m not asking you to forget him.” You can tell me the rest.
“Nobody ever asks me about him. Even Mia. It still makes her sad to talk about him, and since she doesn’t know about Faith, I’m always careful about what I say. So, thank you.”
“You can tell me anything.”
“People think I’m an open book because I don’t mind talking about the stupid shit people are quiet about. But I have secrets, too. Just like everybody else.”
“I know.”
“It’s hard for me to share them.”
“I know.”
She flips over so her back is against my front. “I’m so tired of hiding my mistakes.”
I wrap my arm around her and squeeze her tightly. Faith is her big secret, but there’s more.
For now, I’ll take what I’ve been given. I don’t have a choice. She’s not the only one with secrets. She said Nic was the ocean to her shore, taking more of her with him every time he’d pull away, and I understand that feeling all too well. I’m afraid if she leaves me again, I’ll be an empty shell.
Owen hands me a steaming mug of coffee and leans against the counter. “How’d the early meeting with coach go?”
“It was fine.”
“Fine. Listen to you, communicating like a sullen woman.”
Sunday was shit. The first regular season game of the year and they only put me in on special teams. I met with the Gators head coach this morning and asked point-blank why and got the runaround.
“Bill still giving you the cold shoulder about your new wife?”
I shrug. Bill McCombs needs to back off and let the people he hired run his team, but the Gators is a baby franchise, and he’s been very hands-on—to the point where he never misses a team meeting and isn’t afraid to tell his coaches how to do their jobs. Or when to bench a player who should be in the game. “Coach spent a lot of time this morning making sure I knew that the rookie is better than they expected.”
“Fraser?” Owen shakes his head. “The boy can catch a ball, but he’s gotta play catch-up between the ears if he wants a long career.”
“I hate being on Bill’s shit list.” I squeeze the back of my neck. “How about we change the subject?”
“Sure. Let’s talk about your wife instead.” His face stretches into a shit-eating grin. “I am always up for talking about Bailey.”
“You’re lucky I need this caffeine in my bloodstream more than I want to throw this coffee in your face.”
“I can’t help it that you married the finest piece of ass I’ve ever set eyes on.”
I glare at him. “Fuck you. She’s so much more than a piece of ass.”
He throws up his hands. “Exactly. Why the hell do you think I’m so jealous?”
I sigh. “You can’t have her, so stop.”
“You were pretty damn smart, marrying her like that. What’s that old saying? If you love someone, let her go. If she returns to you, it was meant to be. If she doesn’t . . . get her drunk and marry her in Vegas?”
My lips twist into a smile despite myself, then I go serious. “Can you blame me for trying?” I rub the back of my neck. “I don’t want to lose her. I just have to make her fall for me before I run out of time. If she goes back to Blackhawk Valley, I don’t know when I’ll get another chance.”
“How’s Operation Fake Marriage going for you?”
I look out the window. From here, we can see down into the practice arena inside the Gators’ complex, and there’s my competition, putting in extra time and running plays with Dre. “Far better than I ever expected.”
“Right,” Owen says, “which totally explains why you say that like someone ran over your dog. Disappointed that it’s not settling the playing field with Bill? It was a long shot, but it was worth it. And hey, if you get the girl in the end, Bill can fuck himself.”
“That’s a big if, Owen.”
He hums. “The question is, at what point did this become less about your career and more about trying to win the girl?”
I take a long pull of my coffee. Didn’t my sister essentially ask the same question? “It’s always been about her. Even when I didn’t want it to be.” I turn back to him. “I have to try.”
“You’d be crazy if you didn’t.”
“The man she loved died, and she’s still not over him. She’s starting to open up to me. Four fucking years, and she’s finally telling me her secrets. But the days are going by too fast. She’s been here almost a month already, and I think she’s still planning to leave.”
“You mean her old boyfriend? The one who was in prison?”
“He wasn’t her boyfriend. He was just . . .” More important to her than I ever could have realized. “He was stringing her on. How insane is it that I’m the man in her bed every night and I still feel like I can’t measure up to a dead man?”
He studies me for a beat. “You really think it’s that simple?”
I know it’s not that simple. Bailey’s not the only one with secrets, and as much as I’ve told myself mine were justified, my sister’s warning looms over me.
Four years ago . . .
I know I’m a first-level creeper for following Bailey’s ex, but I had to. She’s pulled away from me so completely since he’s been released, and I know it’s because of him. I just need to know she’s safe, that he’s turned over a new leaf. I fucking hoped that was what I’d find out. Instead, it took me a week to discover that the piece of shit is still doing the same crap th
at got him put behind bars to begin with.
I followed him to the Cavern tonight, but this time it’s not because I want to see what he’s up to. No. This time I’m following Nic because we need to talk.
I wait until he heads to the back door for a cigarette and I step in front of him, blocking his path.
He looks me over once before lifting his chin. “You’re the guy my girl’s been fucking? Mason, is it?”
It makes my stomach turn to hear him talk about her like that—saying the guy my girl’s been fucking the way someone else might say the guy my girl works with. It’s no wonder Bailey thinks so little of what she has to offer outside the bedroom. “Does she know you’re still dealing?” It’s the only question that matters, and I refuse to take the bait on anything else.
He stiffens, and his nostrils flare. He can handle that Bailey slept with me, but it riles him that I see him for what he is. “You think you know things? Rich boy, you don’t know shit.”
“She was over you. Then you got out of prison and started fucking with her mind again. You made her believe you’re someone you’re not.” I shake my head. “If you can’t stay clean, then you stay the hell away from her.”
“Why would I do that? Because you said so?” His lips twist into a smile. “You think I’m going to back off just because you got a taste of her and want some more? Because lemme tell you, you’re not the only guy who’s had a good time with her. You’re not special.”
It’s like he wants me to break his nose. “I’m not. But she is.” I shake my head and back away. “Fuck this. You’re not worth it. I’ll just tell Bailey who you really are.”
His face pales. “She won’t believe you.”
I shrug. “That’s up to her.”
He looks around, confirming we’re still alone. “Say I’m willing to let her go so you can have your chance. What’s in it for me? How much?”
