by Liz Crowe
“You can’t.” But he pulled out his wallet even as he spoke the words. “The…baby….”
“Yeah, since I’m pretty sure you don’t want it either, it’s win-win for you.” She held out her hand. He put a stack of twenties in it he’d just gotten for some construction work he’d picked up the weekend before. “I’m still stuck with your brat. But better that and stuck with you, your brat, and your nosy mama.”
“Don’t speak about her that way.”
When Gina laughed in that harsh, nasally way he used to find cool, it grated on every single one of his exposed nerves like a fork on a plate. He lunged for her, intending to grab her and hustle her into the truck. This was him, being responsible, acting like a man and not letting her run off even though part of him agreed with her assessment of his enthusiasm level about being a father at twenty-three.
But she screamed so loudly he took a step away from her right before the old timer landed a left hook to his nose. He dropped to his knees, blinded with shock and pain, blood spurting from between his fingers.
The man blocked his view of Gina, fists clenched. “Go on now. Beat it,” he said mildly. “I’m figuring this girl is all done with you.”
“Fuck,” he muttered, furious at her and at himself for feeling so unabashedly relieved she was leaving. “Fine. But you have to let me know when….” He pointed at her belly, feeling like an idiot.
She turned away from him without a word.
He sat in the truck, two hundred dollars poorer, with a sick, hollowed out sensation in his gut. How in the name of all that was holy would he be able to break this little news flash to his mama? Groaning, he put his forehead against the steering wheel, mind spinning from one potential conversational opening to another. When he finally put the truck in gear, he pointed it south, then down Yellowbird Road as if drawn by a magnet.
He sat in the Brantley’s driveway, contemplating his reasons for coming there. When Diana appeared on the side porch, it was as if a boulder had just been taken off his chest.
Diana knew who sat there, as surely as she knew her own jean size. But as much as she longed to run to the truck and drag him out of it and back into her life, she didn’t. She couldn’t. He was not for her, not anymore.
Jen emerged from behind her, taking off her apron. “Okay, dishes are done. Mama and Daddy are packed for their trip and gone to bed.” She squinted out into the gloom. “Who’s here?”
Dominic chose that moment to emerge, standing by the open truck door, looking for all the world like an unhappy orphan.
Diana took a second to frown at her sister. “Don’t start, okay?”
“I won’t. You don’t listen to sense when it comes to him anyway and never have. I’m going to bed. Alarm’s set for early so we can make sure we get them on the road in time.”
Diana nodded, keeping her eyes on Dom. Her parents were taking a rare vacation, driving down to a friend’s house on Kentucky Lake for a week. Her Daddy had been so excited about his new tobacco deal, he’d taken some of the advance cash and bought a new car, and a long-delayed re-roofing for the house. Diana had come home to take care of the animals while they were gone, figuring her half-assed attempt at college not worth the trouble anyway.
They regarded each other across the lawn, which gave her time to reconsider, then re-reconsider her next move. Even as she walked down the steps toward him, she knew something had gone wrong and he had come for solace. And she would provide it, as usual.
Chapter Seventeen
Now
They only had two weeks to go until their first official booked event, but construction delays had everyone on edge. Diana’s carefully targeted dates, detailed plans, calendars and schedules seemed to be going up in smoke, but she refused to listen to the trite advice that it always took five times more money and five times as long. It couldn’t take five times more money. There was no more damn money. She stayed up nights over it, chest and throat burning with anxiety about the loans coming due.
Luckily, she had Dominic to distract her—day and night, it would seem.
She spotted the light on the far barn where he sat and waited for her. The smooth curvature of the bourbon bottle in her hand soothed her. The long drink she took from it went even further toward that end.
She and Dominic came together every single night in a tangle of sweat, limbs, lips and fingers, doing it standing up, laying down, sitting in chairs, out in the open once or twice. No matter how furious she would be at him during daylight hours, she craved him like an addict craves his next dose of poison once the sun set. The whole sordid arrangement gave her life a sort of twisted, sex-soaked, fantasy-bubble aura.
Stress from the yelling matches other over things she claimed he fucked up and he insisted she over-planned, piled up in her gut, until her heartburn flared and her head pounded. But she’d make dinner every night, the angry silence between her and Dom as thick as pea soup. Angelique was still flopping at Diana’s, claiming she had too much to work out with her mama to leave just yet, so she’d clean up and Diana would ride, pushing the horse to its limits just to clear her head.
Jen and Dale had learned to steer clear of the house by then, unwilling to get drawn into the vitriol. Dale claimed Diana was taking out unnecessary drama on Dominic, whom he’d given full responsibility when it came to the barn renovation. Jen claimed Dom acted like a fucking Napoleon, strutting around in charge and discounting hers and Diana’s concerns about cost and timing overruns.
But as night fell, after her ride and shower, she’d spend a while contemplating how she’d leave the bastard high and dry without his roll in the hay, until her insides would slowly melt, recalling how he felt, tasted, and how incredibly perfectly they fit together—still. This was their routine—one that never deviated despite her toe-curling desire and simultaneous inability to end it. The night before, she’d gone out to his makeshift camp in the new barn office and hesitated in the doorway, bracing inside the frame as if it would keep her from launching at him.
He’d risen to his feet, stark naked, glistening from a shower, his body mesmerizing her and more than ready. When he held out his arms she’d gone to him. That night, they made love slow, easy, and sweet, not going at each other like desperate animals for a change. She’d lain next to him for a few minutes afterward, but then gotten off his damp mattress and put on her clothes in silence. He’d grabbed onto her at the last minute, his voice low and desperate-sounding.
“Don’t leave me,” he’d whispered.
She’d shaken her head and left as she usually did, with minimal words to mess up the moment.
And here she sat, past the dinner hour, stomach grumbling and head spinning from the booze, ordering her thoughts for the looming conversation. Lee would be home in two days, after a three-and-a-half-month stint at the Wyoming horse ranch. She missed him. But she wanted him to stay away, to leave her to her frantic coupling with the man she’d loved, and hated, and loved for most of her life. He should stay away. Lee Tolliver was too damn nice for his own good and did not deserve to be treated like this by his own fiancée.
Diana groaned and put her head on her damp arm. She and Lee talked every night, usually right after she’d been out fucking Dominic. Lee loved her. She loved him. It was such a stupid mess and she had no on to blame but herself.
The night before she’d been sobbing after her surprisingly tender encounter with Dominic and he’d done his usual worried, soothing, calming and utterly irritating thing with her from afar.
“I’m home in two days, Di. I’m gonna take you away for a long weekend. I want to get reacquainted without the usual crowd of people…watching.”
“Okay,” she’d sniffled, knowing that would be ridiculous. She had a business to run. One that would be getting ten times more complex in about a week. “Hurry, please.” The guilt clogging her throat made it hard to breathe.
She spotted Dominic walking across the lawn, headed for the house. When the screen door slapped shut, she tur
ned to him with extreme reluctance, more conflict roiling around in her than ever before. He waited, a stalk of hay in his mouth, dressed in his usual uniform of jeans and faded, too-tight Lucasville High T-shirt, grinning at her.
“Honey, I’m home. What’s for dinner?”
She shook her head, words drying up in her mouth like cotton balls.
“Let’s go the movies,” she blurted out.
“Uh, okay, where?”
“Drive-in,” she said, her voice gaining strength as the plan formed in her head. “Grab the cooler and pack up some beer. I’ll pull something out of the fridge and get a quilt.”
He tilted his head, observing her a minute before shrugging and heading down to the basement. She sucked in a breath. His ability to go with the flow had always impressed her. As opposed to Lee, who planned his meals a week in advance. Not fair, she knew. It didn’t make him a bad person, just different.
She pictured him then, his easy grin, raven’s wing-black hair and blue eyes. “I do love you,” she whispered into the empty room, not knowing who she spoke to, but even more positive Lindsay had been right to confront her and make her own up to this thing she’d been doing with Dominic.
They headed to the one remaining drive-in movie theater, dressed for the spring night in jeans and flannel shirts, the silence comfortable between them. At one point Dom reached over and threaded his fingers in hers. She’d allowed a second to enjoy it then let go, putting her palms on her knees so Lee’s engagement diamond remained in clear view.
They paid and he found a spot, turning the truck so the bed faced the screen. Her heart ached for the many times they’d been here, done this as she got out and arranged the quilts so they could prop their backs against the cab, the cooler between them. Once the place filled in a bit more and darkness fell, Diana glanced over at his profile and reached across the cooler to touch his jaw.
He seemed so deeply unhappy, her breath caught in her throat. “We gonna make out, or what?” His low, gravely, familiar voice filled every corner of her weak-willed consciousness.
“No. Dom, I have to tell you something.”
“If it’s that you’re pregnant then save it for after the movie, willya?”
“I’m not.”
“Whew, that’s a relief.” He grinned, holding up his beer can. She touched hers to it, heart heavy. They sipped, and ate bacon, lettuce, tomato sandwiches, laughing with the crowd at the antics of the Ghostbusters. “Remember, we saw this together, right here, I’m guessing.” He leaned over to stick his tongue in her ear.
“Cut it out.” She pushed him away. “Yeah, we did. Right after Gina dumped you, you came crawlin’ back to me and I took you in. Again. After which you proceeded to dump me—again, you rat bastard. And I still don’t know why you did it that time.”
He grimaced and moved away from her. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I’m the idiot who keeps letting you resume your position—the one between my legs.”
He chuckled and leered at her. “What can I say? It’s my happy place.”
“God, Dominic, don’t be so flip and let me….”
He shoved the cooler out from between them before she could protest and tugged her down to his lap, his fingers threaded in her hair, his lips on hers. Taking every ounce of willpower she possessed, she broke from him and sat, breathing heavily, the taste of his lips ghosting through her for what she swore would be the last time.
“You got married right after that. After I….”
“After you helped me while I dealt with my parents getting killed and finding out the truth about my daddy’s non-existent tobacco deal. I do appreciate you for that.” She retreated to the corner of the truck bed, knees pulled up to her chest. “But I caught you with, God, what was her name? Right in your apartment, after you gave me the key if I remember right. Jesus, you have a self-destructive streak six miles wide.”
Dom ran a hand around the back of his neck, keeping his distance.
“Never mind. Water under the bridge. Sorta like my ricochet, rebound, quickie marriage to whats-his-name.”
“Nice,” he muttered, irritation in his voice. “I’m scared of you, Di. You terrify me.”
Rough, unhappy laughter spewed out of her. “Oh, God…sorry.” She wiped her streaming eyes as legit hysteria hovered dangerously close to the surface. Dom just glared at her. Finally, once she got control, she took a breath and let her legs splay out in front of her. “Dominic Sean Love, you are nothing but a class-A man-whore, incapable of having anything like an adult relationship with anyone for very long. I realize part of it’s your illness. If you’d just stay on the medications the professionals give you, I’m willing to bet you’d be a lot happier.”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me.”
“How did you meet him?”
He flinched, then got to his feet. “I’m over this.”
“Sit down. We have to talk.”
“Fuck you and fuck talking. I like it better when we’re screwing.”
“Tell me about him,” she insisted, tugging at the leg of his jeans. He sat down, flipping off the car behind that had honked when he’d blocked their view.
“I don’t want to talk about him.” A familiar petulance had crept into his voice, giving her a modicum of strength. This she could, and would, deal with. If for no other reason than she’d promised Lindsay Love she’d do it.
“You have to. Tell me how you met.”
“Online,” he grunted out, grabbing another beer and drinking half of it one gulp. “Don’t ask me why I was trolling either. It has a lot to do with trying to alleviate my guilt over screwing you over, which you can choose not to believe. I needed something to…distract me.”
She took a long breath. “Was he your first….”
“Yes, Diana. Kent was the first man I…I fucked. I’m not gay. I just…wanted to try…and….”
“But you fell in love with him.”
“No.” Dom’s voice had a tightness to it she recognized as the precursor to him bolting. She tried to neutralize the situation.
“Honey, it’s all right.” And at that moment, Diana found a sort of peace in her soul that she’d never experienced. Watching Dom, one half of his face lit from the movie screen, the other in darkness, as his utter misery over the man revealed itself gave her a jolt of resolve to make this right—for both of them.
“You don’t understand,” he insisted.
“I don’t understand being so completely in love with someone I’d do anything to avoid them? I don’t understand what it’s like to want something I can’t have so fucking bad I have a damn ulcer over it? I…I don’t understand?” Furious at him for forcing her to reveal long-toted emotional baggage, she attempted to calm her ragged breathing.
He blinked at her outburst. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is. So let me tell you right now that I understand it completely. And know that it’s high time for you to face up to it.”
“What difference does it make?” He crushed the can and tossed it against the truck bed wall. “It’s over. I’m not that guy. I can’t be that guy. I won’t be that guy. I want to be your guy, Diana. Please let me.” He moved fast, had her pulled down onto the soft, quilty nest she’d built, his body pressed against hers, her arms pinned at her sides.
He has a way about him.
Dominic’s mother’s words wafted through her brain.
Diana closed her mind to that, and opened her lips, meeting him more than halfway with the sort of urgency he never failed to bring out in her. He shifted and she unzipped his jeans, fisting him, the addict in her sucking down deep, long drafts of her personal poison. He slid off her so he could reach into her panties, teasing her flesh, kissing and muttering, their movements quick, practiced and illicit, as the movie played on over their heads.
She lay there breathing heavily, the smell of his spunk in her nose, her body shivering in the aftermath of a Dom-induced orgasm. He propped on his elbow. She sat,
wiping her palm on his shirttail.
“Kent contacted your mother. He’s found…he knows where your son is. His name,” she gulped, unable or unwilling to look up and see how Dom reacted to the news. “His name is Jace. Gina’s dead and the boy’s been in foster care, and it’s not good. He, Kent, is bringing him home…next week from New York.”
“You…he…I’m not…son of a bitch.”
Dom zipped his jeans and jumped up, earning more angry honks.
“Be calm and let’s talk about it.”
“I never asked him to do that.” Dom slid down next to her, his whole body shaking. She wrapped him in the quilt and held him close. “I never asked him….”
“I know. It’s okay.” She pressed her lips to his hair, and took one, last, long breath of him. “But as of right now, we are officially only friends again—the kind without benefits. I love you, Dominic, and I have for so long I’m sure I won’t know how it feels not to. But I can’t love you anymore. I’m marrying Lee. I love Lee. He will take care of me the way I deserve.”
They drove home in a different kind of silence. When Dom pulled into the drive, he kept his gaze on the nearly finished old barn, then turned to face her. His eyes had gone dark. She knew what that meant all too well.
“Don’t you dare run from this, Dominic Love. I’ll never respect you if you bolt, do you get me? I should make you sleep in the house, but I won’t because you’re too much of a temptation to me.”
“You, and my mama, and…and Kent, can’t manipulate me like this.”
“No one is manipulating you. Get a grip and think about it. Kent knew you had to meet your son. He moved to New York once he figured out you wouldn’t communicate with him, after the wedding….”
Dominic held up a hand as if to halt her words, but she smacked it away. “He found Jace. He had to get the kid out of some crappy flophouse he’d been living in. After Gina died, her sister’s boyfriend beat him nearly to death, Dominic, he cut the boy’s face with a broken bottle.” She gripped his arms when he tried to get out of the truck. “This is your son. Your responsibility. And you are by God gonna take it now.” When she let him go, he jumped out and ran for the barn.
