That didn’t work for me.
So, I slid a hand over to her lap and lightly squeezed. For the first time in weeks, I felt my heart start beating again. I hadn’t realized it had stopped. That was, I hadn’t realized until Paris wove her finger between mine and held on.
After lunch, we became a well-oiled machine, and I was pleased to see the girls had warmed up to Ellie and she was staying to help. London, Holland, and Ellie were stationed in the living room, which was where we were stacking boxes for the girls to separate into trash, save, or donate piles. Hangers full of clothes were draped over chairs, and the contents of his dresser drawers were in a heap, ready to be divided. Paris was in his bathroom, tossing out his old medicines and toiletries and giving the occasional order on how we, the guys, should be doing things.
“What are we doing with his old mattress and box springs?” I asked as I leaned into the bathroom.
Paris was holding her dad’s bottle of cologne and sniffing it, tears pooling in her eyes. Her tears were going to break me today. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and propped my chin in the crook of her shoulder. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
She met my eyes in the mirror’s reflection, and in them, I found my answers. Yeah, I was going to fight for this, for us. I squeezed her tight and placed a few kisses on her neck just behind her ear.
“Oh god, that feels so good,” she moaned.
“Later.” I placed another quick kiss on her neck. I gave her a wicked grin, because she looked just as dazed as I was. “First, I need to know what you want us to do with the bed.”
“We’re tossing it. That thing is so old, it’s probably the same mattress he had before Mom left.”
“In other words, it’s the mattress you were conceived on,” I teased.
Paris threw her hands over her ears. “God, don’t say that. You’ll make me lose my lunch. Clorox. I need bleach for my ears. I’m still hearing you say that, ugh.”
I chuckled, then headed back out to start dismantling the bed, but Braden and Marcus had beaten me to it and were already lifting the mattress. What was under it made me freeze.
“Paris, come here, please.”
Braden and Marcus had their hands full trying to balance the mattress and get it out of the room, so I turned to Reid. “Will you get Holland and London?” My voice was calm when I really wanted to scream. I would have, too, had London not chewed us all out thirty minutes ago for being so loud, we woke Tera up.
Paris
There was a stack of letters, tied with a shoestring, sitting on the box spring.
“What’s wrong?” Holland raced in, London close behind.
“Letters. Dad kept letters.” My voice was softer than I had intended, but I was somewhat in shock. My dad had always been gentle with us, but I’d just never imagined him being sentimental.
“Who are they from?” London asked as she stepped forward and looked over my shoulder.
“I don’t know.” I reached forward and picked up the stack. They were flattened from years under the weight of the mattress. Thumbing the corners of the envelopes, I looked at the return addresses on them. “It looks like they are all between Mom and Dad.”
“But I thought she said he returned all her letters?” London asked, looking ready to tell me that she told me so.
“Obviously not, if they’re there,” Holland pointed out.
“Do you three want to stay in here to read them? We can leave,” Asher offered, and I reached out to stop him.
“No. Stay. We’re all family. We have no secrets. Let’s take these to the table.”
We stayed back as everyone filed out of the room. On one hand, I felt as if so many questions about the past were about to be answered, but on the other, I felt a strange calmness come over me, a resolve, where past and present met. I guessed I was about to find out if I had been a fool, or if I had been right to hold out hope.
When Asher and I reached the door, he slid his strong arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side as we walked to the kitchen. No matter what the letters revealed, I felt safe. Asher pulled out my chair and waited for me to sit, immediately going into protection mode.
“You three read. I’ll make some coffee.”
Marcus and Braden had come back in, and Reid and Asher were catching them up on what happened. I ignored them and tugged the shoelace free before fanning the letters out across the table. “Look at these dates.” Holland and London leaned forward on their elbows so they could see. “They span the entire twenty-two years she was gone.”
“That isn’t very many for twenty-two years,” London pointed out. “There can’t be more than twenty here.”
It wasn’t, I silently agreed as I picked up the first letter, pulled out the folded piece of stationery, and read.
* * *
Samuel,
I don’t think that it’s fair for you to be writing and trying to guilt trip me into coming back. I’m happy where I am. I deserve to be happy. I’m glad to hear that the girls are doing well, but I always knew that you were what was best for them. I’m returning the photos you sent. I’m traveling so much, and I don’t want to lose them.
Cora
* * *
I shook the envelope and let the enclosed photos drop out. The first one was of the three of us standing in front of the house with our backpacks. Flipping it over, I read: Holland’s first day of school. Paris is now a third grader, and it’s London's first day of middle school. I passed the picture around. “He included our school photos as well.” I passed the letter and envelope before moving on to the next.
Pulling the letter and photo out, it was clear that Dad had been hurt or pissed when he wrote it. The pen had been pressed to the paper so hard that the ink bled through in places. “Listen to this one, Dad must have laid into her about something.”
“Why do you say that?” London asked.
Flipping the photo back over so they could see, I held it up. “It’s one of the ones Dad took every year, you know, on the first day of school on the front porch.” In black Sharpie, he’d written in large, bold letters: Big day in the Kelly house. Holland’s first day at middle school. Paris’s first day of high school, and the beginning of London’s senior year. “I hadn’t even realized that was a momentous year.”
“No, but Daddy had.” London took the photo and traced his strong, masculine print with her index finger.
Finally getting to the letter to see what Dad had actually said, I unfolded the stationery and read aloud.
* * *
Samuel,
Thanks for keeping me updated about the girls, you’re doing a great job. Much better than I ever would have. There’s no need to send the photos, though. I explain this every time. I’m traveling and seeing the world and have no place to keep them safe. But I do appreciate you always sending me money. Is there any way you could send more?
Cora
* * *
Unable to believe what I was reading or the pure greediness of the woman, I reached for another letter and continued on. Letter after letter, they were almost all the same, Dad ignoring her request and still sending photos, and her sending them back and asking for money at the same time.
“This one’s unopened.” I held it up. “It was marked ‘return to sender.’” After slipping my nail under the edge of the seal, I pulled out the letter and teared up when I realized I was about to read my dad’s emotions written out. Cora’s writing and emotions hadn’t bothered me, but these were going to be my dad’s, and I was afraid that he’d gone to his grave still loving her.
* * *
Cora,
All three girls are officially women. I don’t like the way that sounds. Holland came home sick from school today. When I asked her what was wrong, she wouldn’t talk to me. She waited until London got home, and then the three girls were holed up in London’s room all night. I let them be, but after going through it with London all by myself, I think I’m sort of a pro.
I wish you’d come see them. London graduates next month, I’ll buy you a plane ticket and get you a hotel room if you’d like. You don’t even have to let her know you’re there if you don’t want to. I just think that you will regret it someday if you miss these once-in-a-lifetime moments. Please consider it and let me know. You’d be so impressed with how wonderful they are. I know that I am.
* * *
Sam
* * *
I glanced over at Asher, whose eyes were soulful. He wasn’t passing judgment or saying anything. He was letting me come to my own conclusions.
“Well, we know how this turned out, since the letter wasn’t even opened . . . she didn’t come. Shocker. Was that the most recent one?” London asked. Then not wanting to dwell on the sadness, she reached for the stack and scanned the postmarks. “No, here’s the next.” She handed it to me.
My hands were shaking, and a cold chill had broken out across my forehead as I looked back at all the letters from Cora. They were all about Cora. What could Dad give her? Could he give her more money? How happy she was. Didn’t she deserve to be happy? Never once did she ask about him, how he was or how he was doing.
I read through letter after letter. There were several times through the years when letters had been returned, and then it would be a year or so before he’d hear from her. When he did, it was always because she was asking for money. I felt so lost because, once again, I’d been so wrong. London saw right through Cora’s crap, and I hadn’t. I’d bought in to her lies.
Reaching for the final letter, I let out a sigh. Going through these had been more of an ordeal than emptying his bedroom had. I was mentally and emotionally drained.
I read the postmark. “This was during Dad’s chemo.”
* * *
Samuel,
I’m sorry to hear about your cancer. You’re a good man, and I hate this for you. I know that you want me to come to the funeral, but I don’t know if I can. Traveling is expensive. I will try to save up and see what I can do. Please leave a little something for me. You know how hard it is for a woman out on her own in the world.
Cora
* * *
“What the hell?” I tossed the letter down, fighting my urge to rip it to shreds. “I don’t ever want to see her again. All he asked was for her to come to his funeral, and she was asking for more money. What kind of person does that? Daddy was a great man. He did everything for us. We needed snacks for a class party? He made sure we had them. We needed a costume? He’d run us around until we found it. That man treated us better than we deserved, and she . . . she has the nerve to come back here, to his home, for what? What does she want?”
“I don’t know.” Asher’s strong hands tightened around my shoulders as he spoke, his words as comforting as a warm blanket.
I looked at everyone to see if any of them had an answer, and that was when I remembered how not alone we really were. Marcus, Reid, and Ellie were all leaning against the kitchen island, watching with varying degrees of understanding and anger. Even they saw it, and they didn’t even know the woman.
I was such an idiot.
“What have I done?”
“What do you mean?” London whispered.
“I trusted her when I should have trusted you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe that I was so stupid. How could I have doubted him?”
“Come here.” My chair slid out, then Asher was pulling me into his arms. “There is nothing wrong with wanting to believe the best about someone.”
“It is wrong when I knew better. My daddy was always such a good man, I knew he’d never be mean to anyone, but I doubted him.” I wiped the tears away.
“Paris, Cora has put you in the middle of her crap from the very beginning. She’s done nothing but play on your desire to have a mom.” London was trying to comfort me, but it only made me feel like an even bigger idiot.
“How could she look us in the eyes all these weeks, smile, tell us bold-faced lies, then still act like everything was fine? How can someone do that?” I couldn't believe I'd bought it all. Pathetic little girl, that was what I was, needing my mother to kiss the pain away and make everything okay. I was so desperate that I had ignored the signs. I'd ignored them all, wanting to forget everything I knew in my heart. “Why wasn’t I happy? Why couldn’t I see what was in front of me? I didn’t need her. My dad had given us everything. He was the best dad and mom combined.” I rubbed my face against the crook of Asher’s shoulder as he held me tight against him. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with—”
“I’m just like her, aren’t I? The grass is always greener. You said it, that’s me. I thought something was better.”
“Kitten, we all doubt ourselves at some point. You didn’t go off looking for something better, you stayed right where you were. You were more afraid of change than anything else. Don’t compare yourself to her. You are so much better, and that is just one of the many reasons I love you.”
“Okay. On that, I think we should go.” Braden held out a hand to his wife.
“Call me if you need anything.” London leaned down and gave Paris a kiss on the top of her head. “Holland, you want to come with us?”
“I was just thinking that.” Holland jabbed my shoulder as she walked by. “Bye, Dick,” she whispered to Reid as she left, and that one statement somehow broke the solemnity in the room and had us all laughing.
Asher waited until the door closed before lifting me and carrying me to my bedroom. I was dying to be with him. For the last few days, I’d dreamed about kissing Asher and what our real first kiss would feel like. I’d wondered how his body would feel next to mine.
When he finally set me on my feet, I shifted forward, brushing my lips across his and around the edges without actually kissing him. Just light, feathering touches. Every time my bottom lip trailed along his, he stuck out the tip of his tongue, like he needed to taste me.
“Stop teasing me. I want you.”
With those three words, I want you, I felt my panties dampen and a shiver shoot down my body. My hands were shaking, but I worked them under his T-shirt and lifted it off his sculpted, tanned body. Asher was pure Florida country boy, and I didn’t stop the urge to breathe him in and run my tongue along his pecs.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to see if you taste as sweet as you look.”
“Do I?”
“No. You’re salty.” I bit my lower lip.
“You want to lick something salty, well . . .” Asher smirked, obviously figuring out where my mind had gone, and I burst out laughing.
“I love you, Asher Kinkaide, I’m so sorry that it took me a little bit to figure that out. But I’m madly in love with you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Asher leaned forward and placed a kiss on my left eyelid, then another on my right. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” He lowered his mouth to mine and placed kisses at the corner, slowly working toward the middle. When he reached the point where our lips were aligned, he finally . . . really kissed me. Our lips were coated with want and need. His tongue slid into my mouth and twirled around my own. Every gesture he was making, a foreshadowing of what was to come. Wet and thrusting, our tongues were in a rhythmic dance.
As we continued our kiss, his hands moved to the front of my shirt. He worked on the buttons without breaking our contact and then let it drop to the ground. My bra followed.
Taking one step back, Asher ran his gaze down my body and then back up, taking in every inch of me before bending and bringing my nipple up to his mouth.
The light abrasion from his tongue mixed with the cool air sent goosebumps rippling across my skin. When he stood back up, he moved his fingers to the front of his jeans and unbuttoned them before sliding them off. I watched, hungry to feel every inch of him as he reached for me, unsnapped the stiff denim fabric of my shorts, and then slid his hand into the waistband so he could cup my pussy.
I shivered.
He didn’t move at first, which was the sweetest kind of torture, but then ever so slowly, he slid one finger back and forth through the part, coating me with my own juices. “Oh god, Ash, please.”
He chuckled and then pulled his hand out so he could free me of the rest of my clothing.
“Let’s take a shower,” he whispered and then pulled me into the bathroom.
What? No. What was he talking about? The man—who was more god than mortal—was naked with me for the first time ever, and he wanted to shower? I could barely get two brain cells to think about anything other than what he was doing to me, and he was casually turning on the water and stepping under the spray.
Well, I guessed a wet Asher was still okay. Asher’s gorgeous, firm body standing under the waterfall was hypnotic. I walked straight to him, and he turned me around, my back to his front, where I could feel his hard erection.
“Relax,” he whispered as he trailed one hand lightly down my side, following the curve of my body.
As if it were possible to relax when I was ready to explode.
He knelt down next to me, the water splashing off his muscled back, as he reached for my right ankle, and with his callused fingers, he worked his way up one leg and then back down, only stopping to squirt more of my body wash into his hand and then lathering me up. After sliding one hand up to my breast, he spent several minutes playing with my taut nipples before he moved to my back. Then, adding more soap, he began to massage each arm before working his way around my body, his fingers following suit, and now they were working their way down my spine, and he was spending an inordinate amount of time on each butt cheek before thoroughly washing between my legs. When he reached the front of me, he dropped back to his knees, and I almost fell with him, because I was too turned on to stand. I wanted more, more of him, more of his touches.
Slow Burn: Iron Horse Series Page 12
