I start to frown and can’t help my tone when I clip, “You’re not sorry, are you?”
She shakes her head and I feel wetness against my chest, making every muscle in my back constrict. “I’m sorry for a lot of things, Trig, but not for this. I promise.”
I exhale and relax, pulling her to me even though I feel the heat from our combined bodies rise but don’t give a shit. I put my lips to her temple and squeeze her ass where my hand has landed like a moon that’s never forgotten its sun after a longest and darkest night. “Me too, baby. Me too.”
And for the second night in a row, I have my Ellie back.
Fuck the force that tries to separate us again. I’ll die before I’ll allow that to happen.
21
Therapy
There are many ways to settle your soul. Accept and embrace them.
Ellie
“Trust me, I’m not one to judge. I had no desire to go to a traditional university. I’m not sure what I would’ve done had I not gotten into Juilliard. Hell, I almost didn’t go at all.”
“Really? Why?” Quinn picks up her drink, putting the straw to her lips, and takes a pull before she motions around her. “I thought we were relying on your time at Juilliard and years on Broadway to market this place. You’re telling me that almost didn’t happen?”
I stab at my salad and use the tip of my Adidas to swivel myself back and forth as I eat and get to know my new friend. I admit it, she’s the first person I’ve liked in Dallas outside of my family and Faye. I shake my head because as much as I like Quinn, giving her the backstory of Trig and me isn’t in the cards. “I almost didn’t go. Plans changed and then they changed again. What can you do, right? It was Juilliard or stay and attend somewhere here, and the thought of that about gave me hives. So I left for New York where I could get far away from everyone.”
She takes a bite of the roast beef sandwich she made me promise I wouldn’t judge her for eating since she found out I don’t eat most meat. I just laughed at her—like I’d judge anyone. “But I’ve met your parents and your sister when they’ve stopped by. Your mom even told me all about your brother. They seem great.”
I wipe my mouth and toss my empty salad container in the trash. “Growing up a Montgomery—as backwards as this sounds—I didn’t have a lot of options. I won’t go into details, but at the time, I needed to get away more than anything. I couldn’t escape Texas fast enough.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine. At least you’re back and Griffin gets to grow up close to your family.” She dips another fry into her ketchup and gives me a small smile. “And I get to know you, too.”
I shrug and pick up my water because, as much as they drive me crazy at times, I can’t imagine not having my family and being stuck back in New York with my asshole-in-laws. “The Montgomerys … they’re crazy but they’re mine, right? There have been times when I’ve run from them and then others, like the past few months after what happened with Robert, when I don’t know what I would’ve done without them. They’ve helped me make life somewhat normal for Griffin, that’s for sure.”
We both jump when we hear someone clear his throat and look to our sides in unison. Trig is standing in my office doorway wearing a suit I haven’t seen yet, this one a gray so dark, it’s edging on black. His crisp dress shirt is fitted flat across his abs and narrowing hips that pinned me naked to the back of my sofa last night. I’m not sure if it’s the steely color of his tie or the way he’s looking at me, but his eyes seem darker than their usual icy blue.
Leaning onto the doorjamb, he slides a hand into his pocket as a plastic sack swings from the other. “You told me you were busy today, angel. Had I known you had time for lunch, I would’ve brought you another boring, meatless meal.”
With his eyes narrowed on me, I can’t tell if he’s mad I didn’t make a lunch date with him or if he’s undressing me in his mind. At this point, it really could go either way.
Instead of giving him the satisfaction of addressing either of those scenarios, I look back to Quinn. “Every time he comes here, he makes a scene. This is my attorney, Easton Barrett. You can call him Trig.” I look at the man who doesn’t seem to mind pushing the boundaries of unprotected sex with me and swipe my top lip with the tip of my tongue. “Trig, this is Quinn, my right-hand woman who figures out all the shit I don’t know, which lately, seems to be everything. I couldn’t live without her.”
“Thought you couldn’t live without me,” he shoots back, not giving Quinn the courtesy of a glance, let alone a proper greeting, and making me hike a brow at his bravado.
“I seemed to manage for ten whole years,” I quip, not liking his familiarity in front of Quinn.
He pushes off the wall and walks straight to my desk that sits between Quinn and me, plopping down the sack. “Managing and living are two different things, baby. We were both miserable.” Then he finally looks at Quinn. “Nice to meet you.”
Quinn doesn’t quite know what to say as her eyes widen and I can tell she was raised in a southern home because she stands and offers Trig her hand, which he accepts. “Lovely to meet you.” She looks at me as she gathers the trash off my desk in hasty fashion, as if the King just walked in and it’s her responsibility that there isn’t a crumb in sight. “I’ll get this cleaned up and go check on the painters. Mirrors will be delivered and installed tomorrow. As of now, you’re on schedule.”
I put my foot to my chair and hug my knee to my chest but don’t get up. “What would I do without you?”
She gives me a little shrug as she hurries toward the door. “I’m pretty sure I had to talk you into giving me a job.”
Quinn barely crosses the threshold before Trig shuts the door behind her but I don’t move a muscle as I chide, “Wow, I know Faye taught you better manners than that.”
He doesn’t say a word and stalks to me, swings my chair around, and puts a hand on each armrest, caging me in. “Are you telling me I could’ve had lunch with you and missed the opportunity?”
I tip my head back and try not to smile because, by the look in his eyes, he might be serious about the lunch, yet he’s still giving me shit. “Just because I let you sleep on my sofa last night doesn’t mean you get to dictate my meals. I like Quinn.”
“I like you.” He leans in and steals a kiss but doesn’t move away. “And you might’ve let me sleep on your sofa, but you were right there with me, naked in my arms. Don’t tell me you didn’t like sleeping with my hand on your bare ass.”
I pull in a breath and tip my head to the side where he’s worked his way around to my ear. “I got hot.”
“You are hot,” he lowers his voice and sucks on my skin light enough that I hope he doesn’t leave a mark. I have a court hearing tomorrow—I don’t need to stand in front of a judge with a hickey on my neck. “Do you not have a bed in your house? At this point a twin would be an upgrade from the sofas we’ve been sleeping on.”
I put a hand to his jaw and bring his face to mine. “What are you doing here?”
He leans in to kiss me one more time. “I brought you a present.”
I pull away from his lips even though it’s the last thing on earth I want to do and peek in the bag. My eyes shift back to his. “Condoms?”
He pushes away from my chair and parks his ass next to me on the edge of my desk. “Tell me there’s a bed in your house that you haven’t had burned or else I’m going to have to go shopping again and I have a busy afternoon.”
I ignore everything he just said. “So, we’re just doing this? Picking up where we left off like nothing happened?”
“No,” he answers resolutely and traces my bare knee where I’m still folded in my chair. “There’s no picking up from that, baby. Kipp isn’t going to be thrilled with my being back and I’m not too keen on sharing a dinner table with him anytime soon either. It isn’t just the two of us anymore—you have a son. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around that because it’s not his fault his dad was a selfish-whackjob murderer. Griffin comes first,
as he should. You need to do everything you can to cushion him from everything. If I’m going to be with you, I will, too. We’ve got your court date tomorrow and I’m late for a meeting with Pettit. He called me when I was condom shopping and has some dirt on your in-laws.”
Wow. I don’t even know where to begin with all that but my insides stir with everything he said about Griffin.
He keeps talking. “You think, with all that shit going on, I’d expect us to just pick back up?”
I pull my lip between my teeth and give him a little shrug, motioning to his extra-large box of condoms. “I mean, a gift of condoms says a lot of things and it usually all points to being together.”
“Come here.” He pulls me from my chair to stand between his legs where he wraps his arms around me. “Baby. I had forty-two hours with you in the hospital. Kills me I left you for even a second when your father wouldn’t let me back in.” He lowers his voice. “I’m not sure how anyone works through what happened to us, let alone being torn apart like we were. I know we have a lot of shit to resolve but I have no doubt we’ll do it. I know how I feel and I know how you react to me, so sorry if I’m being presumptuous, but the condoms will help while we’re ironing the rest of our shit out.”
I close my eyes and fall into his chest because he’s right.
When his arms circle me, I’m reminded of everything I wanted most—needed most—when my father forced me to turn on him.
He tangles a hand in my hair and puts his lips to my temple. “I mean, if you want to forego the condoms, I’m good with that, too. Just tell me if I have to go shopping for a bed. My back is stiff.”
I smile against the skin on his neck before pulling away to look up. “I have a guest room with a queen in it.”
He gives me a curt nod. “Then that’s where we’ll be after Griffin goes to sleep. What do you want me to bring you for dinner?”
This is strange but I go with it. “I can make dinner.”
“Baby.” He gives me a squeeze. “I eat meat.”
“So does Griffin,” I argue.
He looks skeptical but doesn’t argue and changes the subject. “You good?”
My eyes drop to his tie and I run my hand down it, smoothing the already flat silk, running my hand down to his abs where I stop and don’t move.
“Ellie?”
I look up. “Thank you.”
His arms constrict around me. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
“You have.” I pull my hand up to trace the underside of his jaw with my thumb and add, “You will. I know you’ll take care of everything.”
And with the gifted box of condoms sitting next to us that holds promises of reconciliation and therapy and many, many hours of distraction from the reality of life, I lift up on my toes to kiss him. I have no idea if I’ll regret my choice someday, but I cannot deny his type of rehabilitation any longer.
* * *
Trig
“Good news—he hasn’t crossed paths with Ellie since he’s been back.” Pettit puts his finger to the map tracing my father’s whereabouts for the last few days. “But he has been circling this neighborhood.”
I look at the map from the tracker Pettit put on my dad’s truck. He’s all over the place and it makes me wonder if he’s started his job yet. He’s supposed to start working on a road crew soon.
I cross my arms and exhale … pissed, but not surprised. “That’s my mom’s house.”
“They were divorced, right? He have anything to do with that property?” Eli asks.
I shake my head. “I own it. My mom worked for a couple of surgeons. She started out cleaning for them and then ended up working for them full-time—housekeeping, cooking, and childcare. After my dad went away and I left for California, they helped her pay for a divorce and she moved in with them. I’m sure she would’ve done it sooner had she not had to stick around for me. She lived with them until their daughter turned eighteen and went to college. My mom retired and I bought her that house.”
“It’s sitting empty?”
I flip through the other maps he’s printed off. “I’m there some, going through her stuff. It’ll go on the market soon. It’s got an alarm but I want to know if he keeps up with the drive-bys. Ellie and I were there the other night.”
Pettit crosses his arms and leans back against his desk. “I’d ask you what’s going on with my future sister-in-law, but I really don’t want to know. Jen is practically bouncing in her pricey shoes trying to get it out of her sister.”
I huff. “She’s trying to get it out of me, too. I need time. We need time without the Montgomerys fucking around in our business. When Ellie is ready to tell her parents, she will. I might work for Jen, but she doesn’t need to know who’s in my bed at night.”
His eyes narrow on me. “In defense of my fiancée, you did sleep on our sofa with her sister.”
“That wasn’t my idea. What you can tell Jen right now is I sleep where Ellie sleeps and I’m sick of it being on a fucking sofa.” I pick up the file he put together for me so I can add it to the ever-growing mountain of paperwork I’m collecting on too many people lately. Between Ellie’s shit and my dad rearing his ugly head in North Texas, you’d think I was a defense attorney again and not the lead corporate counsel for one of the largest private oil companies in the country. I wave the folder at him. “Thanks for this. I’ll be in touch.”
When I turn, I hear him call to me with a chuckle in his voice, “Good luck finding a bed. I heard Ellie had hers burned.”
I don’t answer and I don’t laugh because there’s nothing humorous about it. Doesn’t matter how big Ellie’s sofa is, my back is twisted like a pretzel and now that we’re stocked up on condoms until she sorts out some birth control, we need a fucking bed.
22
French Fries and Condoms
Be real and be honest. There’s no time in life for hogwash.
Ellie
“Did you like California?”
Trig pauses for a second with his back to me as he digs around Faye’s junk room closet, pulling box after box off the shelves that are stacked high and stuffed almost to the ceiling. Without looking back at me where I’m sitting on the floor going through more things Faye thought worthy of keeping forever, he answers my question with another question. “Did you like New York?”
He called me and told me to meet him at his mom’s house instead of making dinner and to bring whatever Griffin needed for the night along with the year’s supply of condoms. Then he informed me we were having a sleepover in a real fucking bed in Faye’s guestroom and in the same sentence, asked if I ate fish even though I’ve turned anti-meat.
I told him I do eat fish but I haven’t introduced it to Griffin yet and he said that was okay, because Griffin was going to get some kid food and he’d take care of it. That’s when I told him I don’t feed Griffin anything fried. I know I’m a freak about food but it’s who I am.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised but I was when Trig met me at Faye’s house with more huge sacks of food. He got me salmon and steamed vegetables, Trig got himself a steak, but he got Griffin chicken nuggets and french fries.
I couldn’t even be mad about it because Trig picked up Griffin for the first time, sat him on his lap, and taught him how to dip tiny bites of chicken and fries in ketchup. I did everything I could not to cry and almost failed as the picture of the two of them tested my limits more than I ever thought possible, and that’s saying something. The confines of my emotions have been pushed further than I thought possible over the last few months. Hell, what am I thinking? The seams of my heart have been stretched thin for years now without my even knowing.
So I watched Trig bond with my son over fried food that smelled delicious and the way he snarfed it up, I’m sure he’s wondering why I’ve been holding out on him all this time. Griffin was covered in ketchup and happier than my mother when she drenches carbs in a vat of melted Velveeta.
If that wasn’t enough of a reason to be
okay with the french fries, the food coma that Griffin fell into definitely is. He’s now asleep in Faye’s room in his pack-n-play, leaving Trig and I alone to sort out boxes.
“I loved New York,” I answer and look up at him when he stops and turns.
He’s in a pair of jeans tonight that look new and a navy V-neck tee that does amazing things to his eyes. He doesn’t look happy when he asks, “You miss it?”
“I didn’t love New York because of New York. Sure, I liked living there—the culture, the art, the energy.” I shake my head. “I loved New York because it wasn’t home. I couldn’t even come home because it reminded me of everything I lost. It reminded me of you.”
Trig runs a hand through his hair, mussing it and making it turn in places it doesn’t normally, reminding me of when he was younger. He nods. “I guess I hated California for the same reason you loved New York. Every day I was there reminded me of why I wasn’t here.”
I look down at the box of junk I’m flipping through to make sure there’s nothing important Trig might want to keep and can’t bear to look him in the eyes when I lower my voice because he has to know.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t regret anything.” My voice is thick and catches. I’m forced to look up when he bends at the knees, stooping low, and lifts my chin to him.
“What do you mean, angel?”
“I feel terrible.” My eyes sting and my pulse speeds. “The guilt is unbearable—I almost can’t stand it because of what I had to do so my dad wouldn’t go after you. I wish I could tell you that I regret it. That I should’ve tried harder with my dad. But I have Griffin. If the last ten years hadn’t happened—as hellish as they were—he wouldn’t be in my life and I love him more than anything in the world.”
Broken Halo: The Montgomery Series, Book 2 Page 20
