by Angel Payne
Finally, I pulled back—but only far enough to slip a hand into hers. “Let’s go sit down for a bit. I think we need to talk.”
She gave a quick nod and followed me into the living room. I lowered into the sofa and she followed but sat with way too much distance between us.
“Come here. Please.” I patted the cushion beside me. “I want to feel you.”
She scooted closer without hesitation. My heartbeat stuttered. Why had she sat so far away? Did she trust me anymore? Would she forgive me for the way I’d treated her?
“Natalia.” I inhaled deeply. “I have an apology to make.”
She immediately surged forward, an obvious protest on her lips. God, I loved this woman.
“No. Hear me out.” I positioned her so her back rested against my chest. “I’ll feel better if I just get it all out, okay?”
Amazing girl. I literally had to play off her compulsion to put my needs above her own. I hated using the subtle manipulation, but I’d spoken the truth. We needed to just deal with everything that had happened.
“I love you, Tolly. I love you more than my own life. You know that, right?”
“Of course, I do.” She ran the fingertips of one hand over my forearm. Steady strokes from my elbow to my wrist then back. “And I love you.”
“So you need to know…I’m sorry.”
She stopped stroking. Just for a moment. “What the heck for?”
“Natalia.”
“Drake.” She bantered it back, imitating my ominous inflection.
“I was a total dick in the bedroom, and we both know it. Let me finish,” I insisted, using an upheld hand when she jerked up and tried to twist around. Her pause was the break I needed, to measure how I’d phrase the difficult words to come next. “I knew what he was doing, baby,” I finally uttered. “I knew what Fletch was doing, and how he’d set us up to do that—and I played right into his fucked-up plan.”
A soft hum curled out of her. “His plan…meaning he assumed we hadn’t been physical all this time, and that we’d both be desperate.”
“More or less, yes.” I tucked my head in, kissing her temple. Amazing, insightful woman. “Then he started taunting me—using you as the bait. You didn’t see it, but he knew I wouldn’t be able to resist getting inside of you…and feeling your heavenly pussy grip my cock again…” My direct words made her squirm, but I wasn’t sure that was such a bad thing. After a second to shift my thoughts away from her cunt and back on reality, I went on. “Well, you saw how long I lasted, even knowing exactly what he was up to.”
She nodded and even let out a light laugh. “Oh, I was there for the party.”
“But I was the party asshole.”
She sat up now, turning to meet my gaze directly. “Drake. What the hell are—?”
“I was inconsiderate and thoughtless, Talia—and I never want to be that kind of lover with you, ever again.” I brought her hands up to my lips and brushed both sets of knuckles with reverent kisses. “I’m sorry…so sorry for rutting on you like that. And I’m sorry for coming all over you the way I did. It was rude, disrespectful. I hope you can forgive me.”
Her face crumpled with emotion I couldn’t identify—though hope was strong as she pulled her hands free, lifting them to frame my face. “Oh, Drake,” she rasped.
“I just…lost control. I was so lost in the moment yet so pissed off at him at the same time…some insane instinct took over. That sounds stupid, yeah?” I paused for a beat. “Instinct. Yeah, that’s pretty fucking moronic.” I forced out a laugh. “Let’s try this. I was being a piggish guy, and I regret every single second of it.”
I braced myself for a number of reactions from her.
What I got wasn’t any of them.
She grinned at me. A wide, playful, adorable smile across her lush, incredible, kissable lips.
“Okay, what did I miss?” I crunched in my eyebrows. “Are you laughing at my apology? The way I’m squirming here, afraid you’re really pissed?”
“I’m not laughing at all. Honest.” She nuzzled into my neck before planting a warm kiss there. “I’m just ridiculously happy right now.”
“What the hell?” She did laugh, as I reared back to see her face. “How can you even say that?”
“Okay, look at things from my perspective for a minute. I was in the same bed you were tonight, Drake. Remember?” Impishly, she tapped a finger at my skull. “And seriously, I was never more desperate for physical satisfaction ever in my life.”
I let a grin quirk a corner of my mouth. “You were soaking wet, baby.”
She blushed. “And you were pretty magnificent, too.”
“Magnificent?” I gaped as if she’d grown horns—though they’d be really cute horns. “Excuse the hell out of me?”
“Okay, fine,” she conceded. “Are you normally a more generous lover? Absolutely. But what does that say about me normally? I’m the selfish one usually. You and Fletcher always, always put my needs above your own and I happily go along with it. So where was the harm in switching it up a little for once? Your needs were met before mine—so what? It’s not going to be something that defines us, Drake—or at least I hope it won’t. I’m not going to let it and I hope you won’t either.”
For long moments, I couldn’t speak. What would I say, anyway? What word could halfway plumb the depths of my gratitude for the gift of her words, as well as every truth she sincerely meant behind them? And where the living hell had this astonishing, amazing, giving, abundant woman even come from? And how was I such a lucky bastard to call her mine?
Ours.
Yes.
I had my answer. The words alone wouldn’t do it. With that prompt, I swept around, lowering to both knees before the couch—and her. “Natalia Perizkova.” Her hands slipped from my face but weren’t dropped for long. I swept them back up and dragged them close over my heart. “You are a gift to be treasured above everything—everything—in my world. You are the most miraculous part of my life—and right here, right now, I vow to honor you, protect you and keep you right here, for always.” I flattened my hands over both of hers, locking them in place in the middle of my chest.
“Oh, my.” Talia gulped. Her chin wobbled. I prepared to hold her through another burst of tears, but she recovered with humor instead, coquettishly batting her eyelashes. “Goodness. That was quite the poetry recital there, Mr. Newland.”
I chuckled, savoring the view of the silver moonlight mixing in the chocolate depths of her eyes. I kept her hands wrapped in mine while resettling myself on the cushion next to her.
It was time to address the next issue. “Baby…we have to help Fletch.”
Sober angles took over her face, too. “I know,” she offered, nodding solemnly.
“He’s battling some serious internal shit.” I huffed. “It’s deeper and uglier than I thought. We really have to help him. I don’t want to lose him for good.”
“I know,” she repeated. “Now more than ever. Even without feeling him here”—she touched her temple—“I sense he’s really raw right now.” She gazed intently into my face. “Has Mac mentioned anything to you about possible dysfunction—you know, sexually? I haven’t had the courage to bring it up…”
“That so?” I drawled it with purposeful sarcasm.
She batted my shoulder before going on. “To be honest, I didn’t think much about sex while he was in the hospital. But now…” She winced and shrugged. “I have no idea what to expect and am too weirded out to do any internet research on it.”
“Fuck, no,” I concurred. “Do that and I guarantee you’ll think he’s got advanced stage cancer, leprosy, the Bubonic plague or some exotic combination of all three.”
“And for all we know, what he’s experiencing is totally normal. Like most of the other things he has going on, it’ll just be a matter of time until he’s back on track.”
I let her words settle on the air while I glanced in the direction of the bedroom. I couldn’t escape the feeli
ng that we were betraying Fletch by having this conversation without him. But he was sleeping and sleep meant healing.
“I never talked to Mac about it, either,” I finally offered. “Maybe I’ll float the subject past Marcus in the morning, just to see if he has any insight. I can also set up a meeting with Mac on my own.”
She squeezed my hand in silent gratitude. Her expression grew thoughtful. “Maya told me about a caregivers’ support group at the hospital, specially geared toward caregivers of people with traumatic brain injuries. I’ll find out when their next meeting is.”
I nodded, ushering in a long pause of quiet between us. She lifted my arm then scooted beneath it, cuddling into my side. Absentmindedly, I toyed with her hair. Softly, she rubbed circles into my sternum.
Together, we gazed out over the maze of Chicago city lights, appearing like pieces of a dream between the drifting fog clouds. A dream. How many times had I beseeched whatever god—or gods—there were, to shout a cosmic ‘psyche!’ and return the three of us to where we’d been five weeks ago?
Crazily, I no longer wanted that anymore. We were here now and we’d survive now, end of story. And somehow, in some way, we’d be forged into something stronger. We’d been platinum before this. We’d be titanium after it.
“Those are good places to start,” she murmured at last. “At least it feels like we’re doing something now, instead of sitting on the sideline and watching him tear himself apart.”
She lifted back up until I could see her eyes—her aching heart on full display in them. “I’m worried about him, Drake.”
“I know,” I answered firmly. “But let’s start with these things and go from there. It’s possible he may need to talk to someone about the depression. Maybe his regular shrink needs a call, too. I’ll see if Mac approves of that guy or has someone better in mind. I have his name and number in my contacts.”
“So we have a plan.”
“Yep. But for now, let’s go to bed. I’m exhausted, and I think I’ll finally be getting a good night’s sleep. For several reasons.” I layered a salacious wink on the end of that, making her giggle as we walked hand in hand back to our bedroom.
* * *
We weren’t out of the woods yet.
It began the morning after that tumultuous night, when Fletcher refused to accept anyone’s help in getting out of bed. He’d bellowed at Talia like the Beast ripping Belle a new one for touching his fucking rose—only that morning, he was no rose. Only Talia, with her whispered words and placations, had held me back from marching in there and showing the asshole some god damned thorns—called my fists.
The next week, bad turned to worse.
Most days, Fletch wouldn’t come out of his room at all, even when Marcus threatened to double his plank time. He simply changed the side he was lying on then pulled the covers up over his head. Again, only Talia saved his stubborn ass from me waltzing into his wallow hole, stripping the bedding from where he lay and delivering a nice, heaping helping of Come to Jesus.
And Talia and I?
Once more, we prayed for the cosmic joke. To wake up from the disgusting dream. Watching someone we loved give up on their life was harder than watching them battle for their life. After the accident, things had been out of Fletcher’s control. We’d relied on a lot of luck and a lot of fate. But this bullshit? Every speck of this was his doing and it was driving me to the brink. Of what, I didn’t know yet—but the madness definitely involved me kicking in his thick skull, no matter what ordeal it had just been through.
The plans Talia and I had formed after the disastrous sex experiment—as I’d fondly begun referring to it—were now as good as chicken scratches on pavement. Mr. Ford had other plans all together—and if the man was anything, it was stubborn. The trait that had served him well in business and in the pursuit of our girl was now dragging him down like a lead weight.
After dinner Friday night, when Talia emerged from his room carrying the dinner tray still loaded with his untouched meal, I finally lost my shit.
I slammed down the book I’d been pretending to read. The small iron sculpture on the coffee table did a nervous jig next to my novel. “That’s it.” My temper jumped from simmering to seething. “I’ve had enough of this crap.”
“Drake.” Tolly’s shoulders sagged. Her voice was tired and defeated. “Just leave him be.”
“And what good is that doing us?” I bellowed. “He won’t eat, he won’t do his home program, he’s showering only after Marcus threatens bodily harm. Have you seen him? He looks like a fucking hobbit. That beard…” I shuddered. “When was the last time he showered? He probably has science experiments growing in his body cavities.” I grimaced. Science wasn’t my thing. The world turned. Things lived and changed. I couldn’t stomach learning how.
“I-I don’t know what else to do.” Talia whispered it while sliding his tray to the kitchen counter. She pitched into a plaintive rasp while slumping over the sink. “I’ve tried everything…” She wiped her forehead with the back of a hand. “Maybe I’m just trying too hard…”
“You?” For lack of anything else to do, I perched both hands to my hips. “Why do you have to be ‘trying’ at all here?”
She pitched her gaze to the ceiling as if I hadn’t spoken at all. Desperation dominated her face, as if the vibe in the whole condo was using her as its spirit animal. “Maybe if I go back to San Diego for a while, see my family…I don’t know…give you two some space?”
“The fuck?” I chose anger over panic but the resolve lasted for those two syllables only. “Why would you even say that?” I stalked over, clearing the two steps up to the kitchen with one leap—only to stop short as comprehension struck right between my eyes.
Maybe she needed the break. She was just so damn sweet, she couldn’t come right out and say it. She was probably racked with guilt about it, too, and was trying to diplomatically ease out from the burden. It made such complete sense…
Fuck.
Well, I wouldn’t force her to stay. As long as she promised to come back.
“We don’t need space, baby—but I understand if you do.” It was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to say. “If you need to take some time for yourself, I get that. I was listening when we went to the caregivers’ group on Wednesday. If we don’t take care of ourselves, we won’t be able to take care of him. Go back to California if you need to. Marcus and I will handle things here.”
I looked down. Jammed my hands into my pockets, trying to disguise how saying that had gutted me.
“Drake. I don’t want to leave—”
Thank fuck.
“—but I don’t know what to do if I stay.” She came over to me, palming both sides of my face so I’d look at her. “I’m at the end of the only rope I have, baby. Everything I say or do only makes it worse.”
I sighed. Gazed at her for a long moment. My astounding woman. Our girl with the boundless heart. “We all feel like that right now, love. It’s not just you.” My lips twisted. “It’s that god damned man in there—”
“Sssshhh.”
I nodded and kissed her palm. “You can’t take any of this personally. But if you do go, you have to get the fuck back here after you’ve rested.” I tried, and probably failed, not to sound like a needy bitch. But I could barely breathe when I thought of going a single day without her.
“I’m not leaving you.” She pressed in that assurance by wrapping a hand up to my nape. “Either of you. I just want to help him—”
“And you are, baby—in your way. I know it.”
She nervously wetted her lips. When her gaze skittered away, I had to bite back a captivated smile. I’d lay down a Benjamin she was going to start talking about dicks.
“Maybe, since the whole impotence thing set this off, he just needs to be around other guys, not me?”
Yep. Dicks. Only the subject wasn’t a joke for her. She was nervous because she was scared and she was scared because she loved the fuck out of the ho
bbit in the next room.
“Maybe he just…needs to talk it out and doesn’t want to do that in front of me?” she ventured. “I don’t know, Drake. I’ve run every possible scenario through my head at this point.” Tears pooled and started streaming down her cheeks. She angrily swiped at them. “And for Christ’s sake, I’ve cried more in the past three months than I have in my entire life. Enough!”
The woman rarely raised her voice—and when she did, it carried the wonky effect of turning me on. Not this time. I pulled her to my chest, holding her while she quietly sobbed out her frustration.
Again.
All I could do was gently rock her back and forth, words fucking failing me. I had said every one of them already.
And none of them were helping.
Chapter Eleven
Fletcher
Just when I thought I’d reached rock bottom, the chasm opened deeper.
Now, even a day later, I was still lost and scrambling for a clear path, any path, in that shitty blackness.
Just like every other night, Talia had come into my room to pick up my uneaten dinner. The food always looked amazing and smelled even better, but what did eating it turn me into? The fucking Shah of Persia? And what did that turn her into? My slave servant girl? I’d degraded her once like that already and didn’t expect her to ever forgive me for it. But with every meal she brought in, all I felt was her absolution, her devotion, her steadfast love. She’d already forgiven me, and I hadn’t even gotten to the apology.
I’d barely deserved her when I’d been a whole man.
I sure as hell didn’t deserve her now.
Talia had come in for the tray but hadn’t collected it at once. She’d glanced at the food but had left it all on the table, opting to sit on the foot of my bed—
And quietly cried her eyes out.
Shit.
It had to have been a test—or so I’d assumed, using wariness as a convenient mask for my shame. She’d had to be going for the whole guilt route, trying to coax me out from my hideaway. No dice. I’d refused to give in.
