Petting Them: An Anthology of Claw-ver Tails

by Tate James

  After a while, he eased away from her and looked down, his gaze searching. A new expression had fallen over his face, one she had yet to learn from him. Once upon a time, if it had been James holding her, she would have called it concern, and maybe even love. With Carter, she had no idea what it meant.

  Then he was leaning toward her, and his lips met her forehead in a gentle caress. She closed her eyes, and those lips continued down, to press against her lids, first the right, then the left. Next was her right cheek, before they skimmed down to land at the corner of her mouth.

  A sound escaped her, part whimper and part sob. A moment later his lips were firmly on hers, coaxing her own to open to him.

  She didn’t have it in her to resist.

  His hand settled on her lower back and he pulled her into him. Again, she relished the contact, the closeness, even as his tongue slid past her teeth and against her own. It was a masterful kiss. It didn’t devour, nor did it demand. It simply… offered.

  Slowly, and all too soon, he drew back. Their gazes met, and his lips quirked up into that cocky smile he’d worn when she first saw him. Only this time it reached his eyes. “I knew I’d like what that smile of yours promised.”

  She laughed, the sound a little broken. Then she gasped, covered her mouth, and tried to back away. He still held her to him, though, and his arms were locked tight without any give to them. She placed her hands to his chest and pushed.

  After a moment, he let her go and she turned away.

  Only to see Andrew, his eyes wide and lips parted, holding a canvas bag filled with puppy food, bowls, chew toys and treats. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She’d forgotten that he was planning to come over today, to help her set up for Dusty’s homecoming in a few days.

  And now he’d seen her weeping and laughing like a crazy woman, not to mention that kiss…

  Crap, that kiss. She’d just fucked up royally with that kiss. It didn’t matter that Carter had caught her in a weak moment. It didn’t matter that she’d needed the contact, the comfort another human being could provide. It never should have happened.

  “I…” she started, then trailed off. She had absolutely no idea what to say.

  “Go get cleaned up, Bethie. You’re coming back to the house, and you’re going to explain just what made you—”

  “I’m really fine.” Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she turned away from them both.

  “Again, I don’t buy it.” Carter’s hand settled on her waist and he tugged, urging her to come closer. She resisted, well aware of Andrew standing just feet away.

  “Come over.” Andrew’s voice was soft.

  She tilted her head and cut her gaze in his direction, though she wasn’t able to make herself face him fully. He ducked down, trying to catch her eyes.

  “I’m not sure what this is, but as Carter said, you’re not fine, not by a long shot,” Andrew continued. “So, come over.” He set down his bag. “This can wait.” He stepped closer and reached out, running a hand over her hair much as Carter had done. His fingers snagged on a couple of knots and he pulled away. “Sorry.”

  She stood in awkward silence. Andrew sighed, reached out once more, and pulled her to him. She nearly broke down once more, her throat tightening. He was hugging her. He’d just seen her kiss his brother, and he still hugged her. He still pulled her toward him. He still…

  Her arms went around his waist, and then it was Andrew’s turn to be cried on. He smelled faintly of medicine, fur, and mint. She inhaled again. She could grow to love this scent. He rocked her, the movement gentle and lulling.

  Eventually her tears stopped. She stayed against him, her front pressed into the solid strength of his chest, her ear against his heart. The steady beat wound through her, in and out of the ragged edges of her emotions.

  He stepped away and held her by the shoulder. “Go. Grab a shower. Then we’ll go to the house.”

  “Where we can take care of you,” Carter added. “You’re wearing yourself out with the shelter. And whatever that note is.”

  “You don’t need to be by yourself right now. You shouldn’t be.” That was Andrew.

  They were ganging up on her. How could she say no? Plus, she didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want to tell them what that note meant, but she definitely didn’t want to be alone. “Can we check in on Dusty?”

  “Of course.” Andrew turned her and gave her a little shove toward the living room and stairs beyond. “Go.”

  Using the thought of seeing her Dusty as the impetus to get herself moving, she headed for her room. Plus, a lazy day on the brothers’ leather couch did sound like a great idea. And coffee. She still hadn’t had her coffee. They would have to get her coffee.

  She rushed through her shower, then slowed when it came time to pick her clothes. They were still in the middle of autumn. It was the perfect time of the year, but it also meant the weather went a bit crazy. Plus, she would be spending the day with Andrew and Carter, and possibly Jake. Two of them had just seen her in all her unkempt glory. Time to make a better impression.

  Pulling on her pair of favorite jeans, she paired it with a light sweater that wasn’t too revealing, but still defined her shape. A shape she had noted Carter appreciating. She put in some leave-in conditioner, but otherwise let her hair be. If she blew it dry she’d be up there for another thirty minutes, and everything in her urged her to hurry downstairs to the two waiting men.

  She slipped on a pair of comfortable flats. Pausing only a moment, she went ahead and applied a dash of lipstick, and a fine layer of blush and eyeshadow, but left the mascara off. If the tears started again… well, best to avoid the raccoon look.

  Just as she neared the bottom of the stairs, the rumble of three masculine voices reached her. Jake had joined his brothers. Had they called him?

  “I brought over the revised sketches to review with her.”

  Oh, shit, that was today. Where the hell had her mind gone? An image of the invitation flashed in her mind’s eye and she ground her teeth in frustration. She was usually better at holding her shit together.

  “What the hell is going on? And why are you all here? I thought we were giving this some time?” Jake again, his tone stiff.

  “No, I said I’d think about it.” Carter this time, his own voice growing heated. “And I did think about it. That why I’m here.”

  “If you were pla—”

  “Enough.” Andrew, sounding very… un-Andrew-like.

  She descended the remaining steps and crept toward the kitchen, like a thief in her own home. What did they need to think on, and what did it have to do with her?

  “She’s coming over to our place, it’s already been decided. We’re going to visit Dusty, and then we’ll get her to tell us what had her so upset. Now is not the time for anything else, so you two sort your shit.” Andrew’s voice grew louder. He stepped from the kitchen and caught sight of her. “Ready?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. You can ride with me. These two have a couple things to settle. They’ll be back at the house by the time we’ve seen to Dusty.” He gestured to the door.

  “Right.” She hurried into the kitchen and scooped up her phone and purse from where she’d left them on the counter. Jake’s and Carter’s attention followed her with suppressed heat and concern. For a moment her gaze snagged on Carter’s lips and her belly tightened even as remorse pierced her.

  The ride was silent. Her mind was a strange blank—not calm, more as though it was so churned up that she couldn’t possibly focus on any one thing, and thus thought of nothing. She was fine with that for now.

  It took only a few minutes, driving over the rough two-lane road, past the slightly rolling fields of scrubby grass, until they were pulling into the brothers’ drive. It was only her second time to the house, but it felt familiar. The same kind of familiar her own home was beginning to take on.

  The visit to Dusty was short. As soon as she’d seen the pup—who greeted her with the same enthusiasm a
s the first day she’d met him—the tears started again. Dusty whined, and she tried to reassure him that she was fine, but none of them, not Dusty, Andrew or herself, believed the empty words she spouted.

  Eventually, Andrew led her away and settled her on the couch with a blanket, a cup of coffee—she hadn’t even had to ask—and her choice of movie. Their collection tended toward action flicks and horror, but that was just fine with her at the moment. Maybe some good old-fashioned blood and guts and exploding cars would help her equilibrium.

  “The Italian Job?” Okay, so there were no guts, and only minimal blood and exploding cars, but it was a great movie.

  Andrew got it started and joined her on the couch, picking up her feet and placing them in his lap. His hands were warm, sending that warmth up her legs to wrap around her heart, like a smothering blanket.

  Carter and Jake arrived just as Mark Wahlberg was pulling the team together for payback. Silently they joined Annabeth and Andrew, taking the chairs to the side of the couch. The movie played on, and gradually Annabeth’s blank mind focused. The focus was on the movie, yes, but she no longer had that horrible blank feeling.

  When the credits started up, Carter rose. “Good choice. I’m going to make another pot of coffee. You guys want?” He headed for the kitchen to a chorus of “yes”es.

  All too soon he was back and handing her a steaming cup of liquid goodness. “All this needs is a drop of chocolate syrup, a bit of cream, and it will be perfection,” she murmured, inhaling.

  Carter plucked the mug from her hands and returned to the kitchen. Then he was back and returning the mug. “Your perfection my lady.”

  His quip earned him a smile. Soon everyone held a mug and was sipping. The silence grew, and Annabeth knew they would soon be asking about the incident in the kitchen, and the invitation. And her mother’s words.

  She was half-way done with her mocha concoction when it started. Jake leaned forward and set his mug on the coffee table. Hah. Coffee table. The perfect name for a random piece of furniture. Yup, she was only feigning calm. Her mind was still a dizzy but depressed squirrel on speed.

  “Tell us what happened,” Jake commanded. It was not a request. It didn’t upset her, not any more than a gentle question would have, at least. In its own way the directness was calming.

  For a long minute she poised on a precipice of decision. This was her deepest secret, and her deepest fear. This was her pain. To pull it out and show them… that would make her either the stupidest woman alive, or the bravest.

  She took the plunge.

  “I told you all my brother died.” She waited until they nodded. Andrew’s hands tightened on her feet the slightest bit before relaxing. “It was a car accident.”

  Another pause as each brother reacted. Andrew’s hand slid over the arch of her foot then back up, the motion forming a soothing rhythm. Jake stiffened, and Carter let out a heaving sigh.

  “Andrew told me a little about your childhood. I’m… sorry. I know how hard it is to lose family like that. If I had lost my parents too…” Would her life have been worse if they’d died then? Probably. “For all intents and purposes, though, the parents I knew did die the same day as that accident.”

  Here came the tough part, the one that she’d never had to explain. Everyone who needed to know already knew. Even James had known, her mother having told him when it was evident that Annabeth’s relationship with him was growing serious. Her mouth opened, and no words came.

  Like a band-aid. Like the biggest band-aid in history, made of duct tape. Just rip it off.

  “I can’t have kids,” she blurted, her attention focused on the mug cradled in her hands. It was a light blue with swirls and twists of darker blue at the base. It was an interesting pattern, a bit like flames, and a bit like watercolors swirling in water.

  There was silence. Utter silence. Even Andrew’s hands had stilled.

  Then Jake let out a heaving sigh. “Thank fuck.”

  It startled a laugh from her. Then the tears made another appearance. This time they were silent, simple trails of moisture down her cheeks, as her throat tightened once more. Andrew flicked a hand toward Carter, who rose and headed for the bathroom. Three seconds later a box of Kleenex appeared in front of her face and she took it with one hand, placing it in her lap. She had a feeling she’d be needing not just one or two tissues.

  She had said the worst of it, and now that she’d started, she suddenly wanted to finish, to tell someone her whole story. Even if, after this, they looked at her with pity—or even derision, as sometimes happened—she wouldn’t regret it. Because she would know she’d tried.

  Blotting her cheeks, she continued, ignoring Jake’s enigmatic comment for now. “The accident was bad. It was worse for Adam and I. We were stopped at the bottom of a hill. Mom had insisted we all go out for a family dinner. I, of course, was in full teenage-mode and sulking in the back seat.” She allowed a wry smile, one devoid of any real humor, to slide across her lips. “It had been raining. That slight drizzle that’s just enough to pull the oil up off the road, but not enough to wash it away, you know?”

  Her gaze was still fixed on the mug in her hand. The brothers didn’t speak, which was fine with her. It was as if they sensed that any interruption now would make it all the harder for her to continue. Taking another sip of her concoction, she searched for the best words to explain what happened next. “A truck coming down the hill slammed into us and pushed us into oncoming traffic. Adam was killed instantly. I… was not.” She swallowed, the images of the accident, hazy with remembered pain and shock, crowded in on her. “They removed thirteen pieces of metal from me. Some were slivers, but a couple were as big as my hand, and all centered around my abdomen.”

  She looked up then, focusing on Jake. “I was in surgery for four hours. When they were done, I’d lost two feet of small intestine, an ovary, and the doctors said I’d have considerable scarring in my uterus.”

  Jake’s expression never wavered. He was listening, and he wasn’t judging. Andrew’s hands resumed their light stroking.

  “When I married, James knew about the accident, and that it would be difficult for me to carry to term. He said he didn’t care.”

  Carter jerked. He’d seen that name on the invitation, in her mother’s note. Had he shown it to the others yet? She knew she’d just dropped a mini-bomb on them, and they were handling this remarkably well.

  “You’re not married now,” Jake said, the slightest strain showing in his voice.

  “No.” Just that. No. No, she wasn’t married now. “He said he didn’t care. But he changed after the first miscarriage.” Her throat closed again at the thought of that little life. She’d made it nearly four months. Four months. They’d thought they were past the dangerous point. And she’d been careful. Oh, so careful, following all of her doctor’s orders, resting more than normal, not doing any kind of strenuous activity. “Then we tried again. It took us two years to conceive that time.”

  She didn’t say more. Didn’t talk about the schedules, how her and James’s marital life became an unceasing and methodical effort for a goal that would never be achieved. All the love, all the affection drained out of their interactions, until that effort was reduced to a few quick minutes in a darkened room three times a week. Until his eyes had gone from a mesmerizing blue to arctic cold. Until his warm smiles and random touches of affection turned to averted gazes and a space that could never be crossed.

  “And when that baby was gone, so was our marriage.” She summed it up in a few words. Funny how such a tragedy took only a few words to tell. “He’d said he didn’t care, but… he… lied.”

  Her breaths were coming fast. Someone took the mug from her hand, and someone else pulled her in close, cradling her once more. When was the last time she’d cried like this? Just let out her pent-up pain and loss?

  It was the night of the second miscarriage. And she’d cried alone.

  She was picked up, then placed in a lap. War
mth surrounded her, and large hands stroked her. She pressed her face to a chest. Maybe she could stay right here forever, in this illusion of safety and love. She would take the illusion, she decided. Hell, maybe all of this was a dream, and she’d wake in the morning back in Houston, in that cold bed.

  Paper crinkled and a moment later Andrew let out a low curse. The arms around her shifted and leather creaked. Then Jake snorted, his voice right above her head. “Your mother is a cruel bitch.” He was the one holding her this time.

  Once again, he managed to startle a laugh from her. “You’re right.” It had taken her a good decade to realize that truth. Then she felt compelled to add, “She wasn’t always like that.”

  “Maybe not. But she is now.” He threw the invitation to the coffee table and wrapped his arm back around her. “That all of it?”

  She nodded, her cheek rubbing against the soft cotton of his shirt, then shook her head. “No. No, it’s not. That invitation is for the baby shower of James’s new wife. You might have gathered that, but…”

  “Yes,” Carter said. “Jake is right. Your mother’s a bitch. And where was your father in all this?”

  She shrugged and turned her head so she could see Carter and Andrew. “Checked out. Just… checked out.”

  Andrew tossed the box of tissue to Carter, who pulled a few out and leaned over to offer them to her. She wiped, once more self-conscious of the mess she must look.

  Jake turned her face to his and then his lips were pressed to hers. They were warm and soft and she lost herself for a moment before he pulled away. He always did that to her, pulling her from the now and into a place that felt… safe. She was reeling when he gave her a quick squeeze, stood, and dropped her back on the couch. “Okay, our turn. You might not be ready to hear this, but listen anyways. I can always say it again later.”

  Andrew shook his head in a “what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you” way and Carter tipped his head back and groaned, though neither moved to stop their brother.