by Lilly Wilde
Noah has a family…a real family!
I tell Noah I want to meet the couple who saved his life…to tell them thank you. He says I can fly in whenever I want because they’re anxious to meet me as well.
Breaking the darkened mood that’s creeping its way through each of us, Greyson shifts the conversation to a happier topic. He tells me more about his love for Noah. About the light my brother has brought to his life, how everything that was once dark is now rich in technicolor. He speaks of their plans to have a family of their own one day and how he promises to make all of Noah’s dreams a reality.
He’s pretty freaking awesome. Noah did good.
“So I’m basically an open book,” Greyson says. “I’m sure you have questions, so if there’s anything I’ve left out, ask.”
I glance at Noah and then turn back to his fiancé. “Well I do have one.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“You mentioned having two older brothers…”
“Yeah. What about them?”
“Are either one of them as gorgeous as you, straight…and single?”
NOAH’S ONLY IN TOWN FOR tonight and tomorrow, then he and Greyson are off to Chicago to meet with a client on behalf of Greyson’s father. A sense of loss creeps through me as I’m reminded that time with my brother has been reduced to hours and minutes. I try to put on a brave face, so does Noah, but it doesn’t quite work. The sadness in his coffee-colored gaze is an exact replica of mine.
We go back to the hotel and talk. And talk. And talk some more. I tell him about the years we spent apart. Starting with the night Patty took me in and ending with my not-so-fabulous job. I fill him in on the adorableness of his amazing little niece. And I tell him about Ethan—down to the last detail. Noah’s reaction is one of pure anger. He threatens to rip Ethan apart. After having been Noah’s protector for so many years, it was surreal seeing him now in that role. And as good as it feels to know someone has my back, I make him promise to leave it alone and let me try the legal route, because that’s what’s best for CeeCee.
Not only is Noah happily engaged and fully integrated into his adopted family, he’s a curator for one of the up and coming art galleries in Washington, and is thereby doing pretty well financially. Noah pulls out his check book and a pen. Scribbling quickly, he fills out the form, rips it from the register, places it on the table, then slides it toward me.
“Call if you need more,” he says.
My gaze drops to the check, my eyes growing wide when I see the dollar amount. “Noah, this is two thousand dollars.”
“I wrote it, so I know how much it is.”
I make a motion to rip it in half. “I can’t accept this. I won’t.”
Noah’s hand flies to mine. “It’s not for you, it’s for my niece.”
And then unexpectedly, tears well in my eyes. I tell him that I’m proud of the man he’s become and how the hole in my heart is finally mended.
He glances at Greyson and says, “I finally have everything I’ve always wanted. You, Greyson, and the Sinclairs have made me whole.”
I ask Noah if his sexuality was as conflicting for him as Greyson’s had been. Much to my relief, Noah says that it wasn’t. That he knew he was attracted to guys when he was around twelve years old. He never said anything to me or anyone else about it because he felt it would have made things that much worse for him. When he was safely tucked away in Washington, he finally voiced his truth; he told Claudia and Alex that he was gay.
Claudia surprised Noah however; she’d known for some time and had already told Alex as much. They pulled him into the love and comfort of their home, never treated him differently, nor did he ever feel as if he didn’t belong. He was finally that normal guy, with a great family. The only point of sadness had been my absence.
The pained look in his eyes tells me that our separation has been as difficult for him as it’s been for me. But I’m happy he’s found love and even happier that he had the Sinclairs during one of the most pivotal periods in his life. Most stories about coming out aren’t as well received as his had been.
Hours pass, and with the help of coffee and sheer will, we sit and talk for hours more, until tiredness finally pulls us down. I fall asleep with Noah nestling me in his arms. And for the first time in years, I close my eyes with the knowledge that my brother is alive. That he’s finally safe. And that with Greyson and the Sinclairs, he’s finally home.
I awake the next morning in bed with Greyson and Noah. Noah is spooning me, and Greyson is spooning Noah. Not wanting to wake them, I slip out of bed and leave a note for my brother. On the way home, I call Aunt Sophie and ask her to stay put with CeeCee until I get there and then I call the diner and tell Jim Bob I won’t be in today. A shower, fresh clothes, and a daughter later, I’m heading back to the hotel to have breakfast with Noah and Greyson.
“After the wedding, you’re not gonna disappear on me again, are you?” I ask over bites of toast.
“No. That will never happen. Being away from you was hard as shit, Ragan.”
We promise to always keep in touch and Noah even suggests that CeeCee and I move to Washington with him. I tell him I’ll think about it, and to be honest, I’m leaning toward a yes. But there’s the issue of CeeCee’s relationship with Ethan. I know he’ll make it next to impossible for me to leave with his daughter.
After a few failed attempts, CeeCee finally gives Noah a smile. A half hour later, she’s in his lap, giggling at his silly impersonations. I snap picture after picture of the two of them and then several selfies of Noah and me.
We’re soon discussing wedding dates, venues and the like when Greyson reminds us that it’s time they head back to Atlanta to catch their flight.
In our final moments, Noah and I bring closure to years past.
“I hope you know I understand why you stayed away,” Noah says. “I know Cassidy forced you to.”
The last time I’d seen my brother was two days prior to his disappearance. He never knew, but I tell him now. That I’d always dropped by his school during recess to peek in on him. And that I’d also checked in with his teacher to make sure he was okay but when Cassidy discovered my check-ins she threatened him, so I stopped. I even tell him about my driving by the house late at night, not sure of what I was looking for but it made me feel as though I was still watching over him. And that was as far as I’d taken it. That was as far as I could have taken it without jeopardizing his well-being.
“I never blamed you and I never felt abandoned by you,” Noah adds. “I know you were doing what you’d always done… and that’s protecting me.”
“Thank you, Noah.” It ripped my heart out to leave him with Cassidy, but I’m glad he understands I didn’t have a choice.
I choke back tears and so does Noah. I think I even see Greyson’s eyes water as he watches us. I warn Greyson to be good to my brother or I’ll find him and kick his gorgeous ass. I also tell him what I’m confident he already knows—that Noah is a wonderful catch and that he deserves only the best and that I’m extremely overjoyed to know he’s found that in him. Then those tears I was choking back come sliding down my cheeks. It’s a sad goodbye. But this time, it will only be a short one.
“IT WOULD REALLY HURT MY feelings if you say you’ve forgotten me,” she says, a coy smile on her lips as she bats her lashes.
A resplendent contradiction—a modest seductress.
She places her palm flat to my chest, an innocent gesture to anyone who would be watching us, but I know it’s everything but. “You do remember how much fun we had, don’t you?”
I take a few paces back so that she’s no longer touching me. And for some odd reason I do remember her, but I wouldn’t categorize fucking her as fun. I wanted sex and she was eager to give it. Surely on some level she knows that’s all it was. I decide not to let on that I remember her… or the sex. So I hold her gaze, not saying a word.
“It’s Skye,” she says, and flips her hair over her shoulder. “Skye Ja
mison.”
Okay, so I’d forgotten her name, but that’s not surprising. But I do remember the day I couldn’t get rid of her. It was last year’s Annual Blue Ridge Homecoming—an event that spanned three days, the first starting with an interview with the local TV station followed by a meet and greet where I talked to fans, signed autographs and took pictures—all the normal PR stuff. Day two was the parade and day three was the game and a bonfire.
Somehow, Skye was selected to ride on the Blue Ridge High float as my homecoming queen. What a mistake that was. Afterwards, she followed me around, practically throwing her pussy at me each time our eyes met. Every chance she had to get within a few feet of me, I was met with a more suggestive proposition. Abstinence was never high on my list, so naturally, hours later I had Skye’s legs slung over my shoulders as I fucked that spirit of aggression right out of her. And per my “motto”, there’d been no contact since.
Judging from the way she’s eyeing me, she’s looking to change that, but that isn’t going to happen. One night is all I want…with any woman. No one has made me want anything more. And I’m pretty damn sure that if no one has yet, no one ever will. Besides, anything in excess of a one-nighter is a one-way ticket to the bullshit that looks a lot like Mary and Curtis.
“Not interested,” I say and walk past her.
She gasps at my response. “How dare you. Who do you think you are?”
I keep walking, but my steps halt at her next words.
“You arrogant bastard.”
I turn on a heel and I’m face to face with her in two long strides. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
I step closer, stopping only when I’m inches away. “What do you want? Do you want me to fuck you and then throw you aside like you’re a piece of trash when I’m done? Because that’s exactly what I’ll do. If that’s all you think you’re worth, we can go at it right now, sweetheart.”
I catch her hand, holding it midair just before her palm strikes my cheek. “Most women would find my offer debasing but you still can’t say no, can you?”
A flicker of shame crosses her face but she quickly reapplies her veneer. “You really think you’re all that, don’t you?”
“Obviously you do.”
I look up when a familiar laugh floats toward us. Ragan. And she looks…different. My gaze lingers on her long enough to get a rise out of Skye.
“So is that the problem? You’re into fat girls now?”
“I’ll tell you what I’m not into,” I reply and drop her hand. “Aggressive women.”
“You don’t like aggressive. Then I won’t be aggressive. I can be however you want…just tell me.”
I shake my head and turn to leave.
“Branch, wait. I’m sorry for what I said. I’m not at all experienced with rejection, so maybe it bruised my ego a bit. I thought we had a great time in the past and was hoping we could have an even better one tonight but somehow we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. What can I do to get us back on track?”
“You can’t do anything. I’m not interested. It’s as simple as that.”
“You certainly were interested last year,” she shoots back.
“Is that what you thought? That I was interested?”
“Do you fuck women that you’re not interested in?”
All the time. “I’m trying to be polite.”
“Where was all that politeness when you were shoving your dick down my throat?”
“Obviously you got off on it or you wouldn’t be angling for a repeat.”
“Do you remember what you told me?” she asks, grasping my arm before I take a single step.
I lift a brow, cueing her to continue.
“You said I sucked your dick like I was made to have it in my mouth.”
No one’s that special, sugar. Hell, I tell every girl that shit—as far as I’m concerned they’re all made to suck my dick. She’s no exception. Skye’s something to look at. I’ll give her that. Beautiful. Sexy. Outrageous body. And a luscious set of lips that I typically would have already pictured wrapped around my cock but the only resounding feeling I have at present is irritation. But maybe if she wasn’t coming on as aggressive and desperate, I’d bend my rule and at least let her blow me again. But something about being with her a second time is fucking with my head…and my dick. I’m nowhere close to being hard, which only confirms my one-night theory.
“Just let me do that,” she whispers. “I want your cock in my mouth. I want to make you come.”
She’s not going to give up, I can see that. I could say something harsh that would make her, but my cruelty only goes so far. And since I want to catch Ragan, and reserve Skye’s mouth for some other time—just in case—I say, “Maybe later.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
Before she can say anymore, I step away, Skye and her mouth already slipping out of my mind as I head toward Ragan and her friend.
I’M IN THE BLEACHERS WHEN I spot Branch. He’s in loose-fitting gym shorts with compression pants underneath and a super snug matching shirt that clings to every muscle of his physique. His hat is flipped backwards and his brilliant blues are hidden behind a pair of silver-rimmed aviator sunglasses. And as typical, his presence seems to fill up the entire space around him. No doubt about it, this guy is seriously hot and completely full of himself. But who could blame him? He’s by far the most attractive guy I’ve ever seen. When he’s a few feet away, he catches me surveying that perfect body of his.
“Come talk to me.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because I asked you to.”
“Nah, I don’t think so.”
He grins. “Why?”
I motion toward Hayley. “Because I can’t leave my friend.”
“I have friends for your friend. They can keep her occupied.”
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Why are you trying to sell something I’m not interested in buying?”
“Who says that’s what I’m doing? Besides, you don’t know what you’re passing up. How do you know you don’t want to buy it?”
“Let’s just say I read the reviews and I wasn’t impressed.”
“You sure about that? For a football game, you sure did go out of your way to get all gussied up.”
“Gussied up? Who says stuff like that? Is that your subtle way of paying me a compliment?”
“Not really. I’m just saying you look different.”
“Whatever,” I grab Hayley’s hand and stand to leave.
Hayley yanks her hand from mine, her lips falling into a frown. “We just sat down. What are you doing?”
I toss her a warning look. “Let’s go.”
“Did you do all of this for me?” Branch asks as we step past him.
I spin around to face The Kitty Whisperer. “Don’t flatter yourself, playboy. I’d never waste a minute of my time on you that I wasn’t being paid for.”
His brows rise and his gaze falls to my chest, an area he apparently loves because I’ve caught his baby blues eyeing my boobs since the first day he stepped into the diner.
“You know what I mean, so get your mind out of the gutter.”
His throaty laughter tickles my ears.
As usual, I sense he’s poking fun. And as usual it aggravates the fuck out of me.
“How much longer do you think you can keep this up?”
“Keep what up?” I ask.
“Pretending as if I don’t get under your skin.”
“Oh, you do, but not in the way you think.”
Of the hundreds of attendees at the Blue Ridge Bowl, Hayley and I have been “randomly selected” to participate in a game with none other than Branch McGuire. Sure, I could’ve said no but when it was announced that the proceeds would benefit the high school art program, I didn’t want to. And now, I’m dressed in ridiculous football garb while the nation’s best quarterback coaches me on how to play the game that I thought I knew all about u
ntil now.
“Hold the ball like this…with your fingers bent like so.” Branch lifts the football and then rotates it three hundred and sixty degrees. “See?”
“Yeah.”
“And when you throw it, don’t just toss it any kind of way,” he says and grins down at me. “Throw with a purpose. Have a target.”
“Okay,” I reply with an eye roll. Maybe I should make him my target. “I’ve got it.”
“Good. And lose the attitude. We can’t let a group of preteens kick our asses.”
“But it’s five of them,” Hayley points out.
“I more than make up for the whole lot of ’em, but you guys have to do something,” Branch reproofs.
Hayley laughs and I toss her a frustrated glance.
“Go out a few feet and let’s see if Ragan can manage to get it in your direction this time.”
“Whatever,” I say and grab the ball from him. I position myself to throw the ball and he stops me again.
“Spread your feet and angle back like I’ve shown you.”
I mimic his example and he shakes his head. Stepping behind me, his hand is on my midsection and I tense. I hate that part of my body and I sure as hell don’t want the likes of Branch McGuire touching it—more than likely comparing it to the abdominal muscles he’s used to, those that aren’t hidden by a layer of unnecessary insulation. I go to move his hand, but he resists.
“Relax, sugar,” he says. His breath is warm against my ear and his foot is positioned between mine as he whispers instructions. I don’t take in a damn thing he says. I’m picturing those full perfect lips and how close they are to my face. If he leans in just a couple of inches more, his mouth would be on my skin. I tell myself to zero in on his words and push the other thoughts out. But something inside my head won’t cooperate. His tone is authoritative and confident, making even this simple coaching sound like a preface to a seduction…at least from where I’m standing. But I doubt he’s considering anything of the sort.
