The Other Brooks Boy (Texas Wildfire Series)

by Diane Roth

  Barbara looked a bit put on the spot. "Well, I try hard not to be a meddling mother-in-law, but in truth, Cara, I feel Greg has a valid point. If there's one regret I have in my own mothering, it's that I allowed Jason to manipulate me like Ryan is doing you now. He did it his whole life, and I trained him well, dancing at the end of his string until he was grown. Then he did it to you. I watched it for years, to my regret."

  Cara could not deny the truth of that at all. Jason could work her like a ten piece puzzle, arranging and rearranging her feelings and actions until he was happy. Was she teaching Ryan to do the same thing? Suddenly overwhelmed by all of it, Cara pushed to her feet. It wasn't enough that she felt practically controlled by her child's feelings, now she felt a little ganged up on by Greg and Barbara.

  "Give us some time to work this out, okay?" she said. "I need to go. It's a school night.” She gathered her purse, so scattered and bruised by the last forty-eight hours and all the high-strung emotion in her life until she could hardly think straight.

  ***

  It felt like a shut out to Greg. Cara wouldn’t even allow him to try with Ryan, sure that he was finally coming around. He’d actually spoken to his mother today, to Cara's great relief, a full five days after the weekend’s big reveal. Greg couldn’t convince Cara this is exactly how Ryan was manipulating her, finally rewarding Cara for her good behavior by talking to her. It was co-dependency at its best, but Cara couldn’t see it. Greg was so aggravated by it all.

  He and Cara hadn't seen one another since Tuesday's exercise in futility at his mom's house. They could hardly talk on the phone without arguing, so he’d actually avoided calling her today, texting several times instead, but he missed her so badly he practically ached. Add to that his frustration with Ryan and a strong dose of sexual need, and Greg was a keg of powder looking for a place to detonate by evening.

  Working out usually helped, spending some of that pent up frustration, so he changed clothes after work and found himself in his garage gym, like so many other Friday nights in the past few years. And that thought pissed him off even more. He was in a committed relationship with a woman he loved, yet, here he was, working out his body until he was exhausted so he might sleep. Alone. Full of need and anger and loneliness.

  Great life you got goin' here, Brooks.

  He cranked up the stereo and worked his body hard for an hour or so, thankful for the chill that a drizzly, cold evening offered through the open garage door as he worked up a sweat.

  Bright headlights shone in on him from the dark of the driveway as someone pulled in, but Greg couldn't tell who it was from the brighter interior of the garage. In a moment, Cara ducked under the dripping eve of the house and entered the garage, her arms wrapped around her against the cold.

  "Wow, I didn't realize how chilly it had gotten since the rain moved in," she said, and he could tell she was nervous, edgy. Maybe she was every bit as frustrated as he was.

  He didn't know what to say ... didn't really feel like talking about the weather. He damn sure didn't want to talk about Ryan. So he said nothing, but began replacing weight discs on the rack, cleaning up after his work out.

  She came a little closer, arms still wrapped around herself, and tried to make small talk.

  "The kids are at the football game. It's the last game of the season unless they win tonight. Then they'll move on to the playoffs," she said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to warm herself.

  He looked at her then. "So you got a hall pass."

  She stopped rubbing at her arms and looked at him like she didn't understand.

  He moved across the garage and hit the automatic door button, making the garage door close against the chill, then looked back at her. "Ryan's out of the house tonight, so you thought you'd come see me while you had the chance," he clarified.

  She smiled a little half-smile, testing it. "Well ... yeah." She shrugged like it should be obvious.

  He went back to the weight bench and continued the clean up, allowing a huge weight disc to fall into place with a resounding and satisfying, deafening clank. "So you've got a couple of hours?" he asked, ripping at the hook and loop closure of his lifting gloves with another harsh sound and pitching them to the bench beside him.

  She shrugged again, but her smile was gone, and it was clear she was trying to understand his mood. "I guess," she said.

  He wiped the perspiration from his face and neck with a towel and took a long drink of water from a bottle, then turned back to look at her. "Well, I've already had dinner, and there's not really time to go catch a movie before your hall pass expires, so what should we do with your time?"

  Her smile returned, sultry this time and she eyed him up and down, taking her time in the perusal. "I can think of a thing or two I'd like to do with a hot, sweaty ... muscled up man," she told him, coming nearer.

  It made his cock come to life. "Can you?" It even pissed him off that his cock would change sides at her merest suggestion. Damn traitor.

  "Oh, yes. Several things come immediately to mind," she whispered as she drew close, her hand dragging up his forearm to his bicep, wrapping around his shoulder. "I've always had a fantasy about getting it up against the wall in a gym with some beefy, hot guy," she said, pressing herself up against him.

  It was an immediate turn on, but something else went off inside him, too. Anger, like acid, welled up and washed away the tenderness he might usually feel when with her. It left him raw. Amped up. He kissed her hard, taking her by surprise, but she seemed game, kissing him back and dragging his tee shirt up his damp back. He broke the kiss and ducked his head so she could pull the shirt off.

  "I should come over here more often when you're working out. Look at those muscles all pumped up," she said, admiring him and running her hands all over his torso. Her fingers dropped down to feel his erection pressing against the front of his nylon athletic shorts. "Bet this one is pumped up, too," she purred.

  He flexed, pressing his engorged flesh into her hands, and kissed her hard again. He pulled her shirt up over her head and walked her backward right up against the wall like she'd said she wanted. "Is this how it goes in your fantasy?" he asked against her mouth.

  "You're reading my mind," she said, and produced a condom from her back pocket with a sexy little smile. All prepared. She kicked her shoes off and unzipped her jeans.

  Hell, if that's what she wanted, he'd play the game. He peeled her jeans off, then grabbed a handful of hair at the back of her head and leaned her head back so he might kiss her roughly. Not too hard, but fully in control. It was exactly what he needed. Just something ... anything he could control in his life right now.

  She moaned and lifted her hips, pressing against him urgently. God, she could still fire him up to a fevered pitch, even when he was pissed off at her.

  "Greg, hurry," she said, breathless, groping at his back, pulling him into her body, biting at his lips, sucking on his mouth. Damn, the girl was fired up herself.

  He jerked down the cups of her bra, exposing her nipples and drew one into his mouth, making her whimper and grind against him all the harder. His hand moved down her body and boldly pulled her panties aside to find her wet, slick, swollen and more than ready. He watched her tear the condom package, felt her jerk his cock free of his shorts, then he groaned as she rolled it all the way down. He pushed into her like a heat seeking missile, primed to blow. Greg began to move, and Cara clawed at his back, wrapping her legs up around his waist, her breath panting.

  "Don't stop. Don't you dare stop," she told him, her words keeping cadence to his deep thrusts.

  "Then you better get after it, girl, 'cause I'm not good for long," he said through gritted teeth. He could feel pressure mounting in his balls, tightening, ready to erupt, and knew he'd finish soon, with or without her. There wasn't any choice in the matter tonight.

  His hand came between them to aid her, his thumb circling right where he knew she liked it. He felt her muscles contract around him, hot, ha
rd, glorious, and it pushed him over the edge. They came together, and it took him a good two minutes to get his breathing under control, his heart rate back to something less than cardiac danger zone. Even then, he could feel her pulsing around him as the last vestiges of pleasure waned.

  "Oh, my stars, but I needed that," she said, her eyes closed, head back against the wall, her voice still breathless, too.

  For some unreasonable reason, it made him feel used. It wasn't rational, that feeling, he knew, but he felt it anyway. He pulled free of her body, removed the condom, and straightened his shorts, then walked away from her.

  She watched him as she rearranged her bra and panties. He took another long drink from the bottle of water, then turned back to look at her standing there in nothing but her underwear.

  "Did you get what you came for?" he asked, not bothering to disguise the irritation in his voice.

  She looked like he'd punched her, her eyes rounding, then narrowing to angry slits. "What the hell are you so pissed off about tonight?" She stabbed her feet down the legs of her jeans and jerked the zipper closed while searching for her shoes with her toes.

  "What the hell do you suppose I'm so pissed off about, Cara?" he fired right back.

  She looked at him like he was thick. "I'm here, aren't I?" Like that fixed everything.

  "You sure are. Guess you did get what you needed. Better hurry on home before Ryan gets there and throws another tantrum. Wouldn't want to upset the boy, would we now?" He knew he was throwing a tantrum of his own ... acting childish and mean, but damn if he could stop himself.

  She pulled her shirt on over her head, then pulled her hair up out of the neckband, her eyes damning him for all he was worth. "That's low, Greg."

  "You're probably right, Cara. But it's how I'm feelin', darlin'," he said, pretty unapologetic.

  "You didn't seem to have any trouble having sex with me a minute ago, now did you?"

  He shrugged, acting like it was all the same to him. "Just givin' you what you came for, I figure." He pulled his own shirt back over his head. "That is what you came for, isn't it? I mean, I'm not worth bringin' to the house and upsetting the boy and all, but you can damn sure sneak away for a couple of hours while he's distracted for a quick fuck."

  Her eyes went to slits again, and she walked over and punched the door opener button with entirely too much force. The door groaned its way open while she waited impatiently, her back to him. When it had nearly finished, she turned and leveled a look on him that could have burned exposed skin.

  "Are you really forcing me to choose between you and my kids?" She tilted her head to one side. "Seriously?" She shook her head and walked to her car while he tried to decide if that was true.

  He stood watching as she backed out of his driveway way too fast and gunned it down the street, then he cussed a blue streak and hit the abused button again to close the garage door.

  ***

  Later, Ryan walked back out of his mother's bedroom, a look of confusion on his face, and found his sister sitting on the sofa in the den. "What's up with Mom?"

  Maddie looked up from her phone. "What do you mean? I think she's taking a shower."

  "She's crying," he said. "I can hear it, even in her bedroom. It's echoing off the shower tiles. What's wrong with her?"

  Maddie looked at him like he was possibly the dumbest human she'd ever met. "Really, Ryan?"

  He sat down in the chair, slinging one knee over the arm. "Yeah ... really."

  Maddie rolled her eyes and laid her cell phone over on the sofa cushion beside her, then looked at him for a long minute.

  Ryan grew restless. "What the hell, Mad?"

  "She's crying because you're such as ass," Maddie said.

  Ryan's eyebrows rose up like question marks above his eyes. "What makes you say that? I haven't said anything to her all week hardly," he argued, then rolled his own eyes. "And there's plenty I could've said, believe me." He gave her the side of his face, looking off across the room in a fume.

  "Oh, we heard it all on Sunday. Believe me. We all know how you feel," Maddie said, her voice saturated with sarcasm.

  Ryan turned back to look at her, studying her as she'd done him a moment ago. "You're really okay with this aren't you?" Clearly, he was still in disbelief over that fact.

  "I don't know that I'd say I'm okay with it. I still feel kinda weird about it, but I know that Mom has been absolutely miserable this week. I caught her crying in the kitchen yesterday, too."

  "What's she crying about? Really. Maybe I'm stupid, but what's the deal?" Ryan asked.

  "She's crying because you haven't spoken to her all week. You've been swelled up and a bully, refusing to even hear her side of this issue."

  "And what's she gonna say that makes this okay, Mad? No matter what the hell she says, he's still gonna be Dad's brother. And that just ain't right. I don't care how you slice it. That ain't right," he said, proving that he hadn't moved at all on the issue.

  "You know what's not right, Ryan?" She leaned forward, out over her knees, and wagged her face at him. "You making someone else miserable because they're not doing what you want them to."

  Ryan looked at her with hardly any expression at all.

  "That's selfish and childish and just like Dad used to do. Remember how he'd get pissed off if you brought home a bad grade and wouldn't talk to you for the rest of the freakin' day? Remember how that felt?"

  Ryan nodded, his gaze fixed on the carpet. "Yeah. The last game Dad came to with me was that way. I gave up about four runs that cost us the game, and he wouldn't speak to me all the way home. God, I hated that feeling."

  They were quiet for a moment, dragged in by their own memories.

  Maddie finally spoke. "Well, guess what, bro? That's exactly how you're acting. And it feels bad to everyone. And it's not fair to Mom or Uncle Greg."

  Ryan turned back to look at her, a little of his earlier irritation back in his expression. "So you don't seem to remember any of the good stuff about Dad. It's like you're always talking him down."

  Maddie shrugged one shoulder and sat back against the cushion. "I remember some of the good stuff, but I'm older than you, Ryan. And I know more about how things really were with Mom and Dad."

  "What, like they were about to get a divorce or something?"

  Maddie shrugged again. "I don't know, but it wouldn't have surprised me."

  Ryan got up and stood there for a minute, looked defeated. "Life sucks."

  Maddie picked up her phone again and buried her nose in it. "Yeah, well, I don't agree with that, but thanks for sharing your foul thoughts with the rest of us."

  Chapter Twelve

  Cara holed up in her bedroom and decided she didn't really care what happened beyond the door that separated her from the rest of the world. It was an ugly place out there, and she didn't have the strength, or grace, or desire to deal with any of it. Her children were busy, going here and there like teenagers do on the weekends, and were perfectly able to fend for themselves with a refrigerator full of food and a microwave. They seemed to have sensed this lying in, tiptoeing around the house and speaking to her through the closed door, and only when absolutely necessary as if she had some horrid communicable disease they were afraid to catch. That was more than fine with her.

  She couldn't read, her eyes so wrecked from crying most of the night, and television sucked on the weekend unless you were a sports nut. So she curled up in her rattiest sweats, favorite socks and holey T-shirt and hurt. For the first part of the day on Saturday, she kept her phone within easy reach, knowing for certain he was going to text or call and be sorry and placating, and they would make up. But by Saturday evening, she'd begun to doubt, really doubt that this thing could make it.

  The deafening silence from her phone made her ears ring. And every time she looked at the screen to make sure she hadn't missed something, a vicious hurting took her by the heart and wrung another pint of blood out of it.

  Sunday was a repeat of Sa
turday with an added bonus of crippling guilt when Maddie ventured in and laid down on Cara's bed for a few minutes. She said absolutely nothing, but crawled up under the covers with her mother and took her in her arms and held her. It was painful and slightly embarrassing and dear. So dear.

  Finally, after long minutes of silence, Maddie pulled away and got out of the bed. She smoothed the covers back up over the empty other side of the bed and looked down at Cara with a heavy dose of pity in her eyes. "I love you, Mom," she said.

  Cara swallowed hard and simply had to own the pity. "I know. I love you, too, Maddie."

  Monday brought a little relief, but only because it forced her out of bed and back into life. Kids had to be roused and prodded out the door to school. Work waited for her, and there was work to do, so she made herself shower and dress for the day.

  Etta was out of the studio for a few days helping her mom after a minor surgery, so Cara didn't have to put on a big show until late in the day when drop offs started for classes. She made it through woodenly, by pure rote and hundreds of hours of practice, knowing she could have done the same in her sleep. But it was about all she could manage.