A Carpino Series Collection, Books 1-3

by Brynne Asher

  Mia starts dancing around like crazy. I have to get my shoes and a sweatshirt since I was all settled in for the night, but Mia and I can make a quick trip before settling into my wine. Besides, she loves car rides. Hopefully she’ll take my mind off how hard it’s going to be to see Tony.

  Chapter Six

  It’s a New Year

  Leigh

  I pull into his drive. I’ve only been here once with Gabby over a year ago. Tony lives about ten minutes from Gabby in a newer subdivision. His home is a story and a half with cream stone and neutral trim. The front door is arched, distressed and stained dark with a tiny little window at the top crisscrossed with heavy decorative iron bars. I press the fancy lever and knock as I open it while calling, “Tony?”

  “In here,” he yells from somewhere deep in the house.

  Clearly having been here before, Mia shoots inside to find someone new to love and pet her. I move in slower, taking in his relatively largish house. It looks different at night. All the woodwork is off white, but the staircase is stained the same rich color as the floors with iron spindles and curves as it ascends up to the second floor. I move over the distressed wood floors through the foyer past an empty room with a great oblong chandelier. The room is empty but will evidently be a dining room someday.

  Opposite the dining room is his home office with French doors that houses a desk with a sleek chair behind it, a laptop and is a mess with papers. Tony obviously works from home. But what catches my eye is the very cool, very oversized piece of art on the wall in back of his desk. It’s a blueprint of a motorcycle in dark grey with blue tints. I try not to think about how this room represents him. A young, up and coming attorney, yet still embracing what he loves in life. I don’t know how I could forget Tony had a motorcycle, but then again, it hasn’t been motorcycle weather. I can’t let myself think about Tony on a bike. Or even worse, me on Tony’s bike pressed up against Tony. I don’t need anything else to add to my list of things I’m missing out on. The past two weeks have been miserable enough.

  Tony has a great house, he must be doing well at the firm. He’s only twenty-nine, not quite a year older than me. I make my way into the great room where lamps are turned on here and there, the light low glowing off the walls. I can’t tell what color the walls are but they aren’t cream, white, grey or beige. Whatever they are, they’re light and work perfectly with the dark browns, blues, and greys he has everywhere.

  I hesitantly walk further into his house, dreading seeing him because I know it’s going to hurt like hell. I move toward the great room with a clean lined leather sofa, two club chairs on one side in smoky blue facing a white love seat. This is all focused around one of the thinnest and oversized televisions I’ve ever seen. And that’s saying something because Preston really liked his electronics. It’s hung on the wall above an industrial looking metal console table with old rustic wood inlaid in the metal.

  I turn to look through to the kitchen and there he is.

  He’s standing behind a big rectangular island in an old t-shirt that looks as if it has been washed a million times and reads “Washburn Law”. His jeans are just as worn but I can tell even from where I’m standing they fit him perfectly. His hair is messier than normal, his skin tone healthy again, just as olive and beautiful as I remember with his eyes just as bright and almost black.

  He looks good, too good. So good it hurts, worse than I ever imagined from not seeing him for two weeks. He takes my breath away. The last time I saw him he was lying in ICU, had just been shot, underwent major surgery and had an organ removed. Standing in front of me now full of life, looking like his old self is almost painful. A pain that feels like a knife in my core, twisting and ripping through me, an excruciating reminder of how much I’ve missed him.

  I shouldn’t have come.

  I should’ve just called him an ambulance.

  “Gem,” he states, his voice rough.

  I look away, because that hurts, too. I need to get this done and go. Get away from him.

  My voice sounds small and I move closer. “Let me see your incision, Tony. You might need antibiotics.”

  “I don’t need antibiotics.”

  I stop immediately across the island from him and frown. “But it could be infected. That’s what it sounded like from your text.”

  “It kills me,” he says low but strange and I realize he hasn’t moved. He’s standing stalk still, his body ridged, as if he’s trying to control himself.

  “What?” I ask, confused.

  “Kills me,” he repeats, but not as softly this time. “It kills me you took yourself away from me. I was shot, Leigh, and you took yourself away from me.”

  I pull in a breath because I deserve that. “I’m sorry.”

  He raises his voice. “You’re sorry?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I thought it was for the best. You had your family.”

  “Two weeks, Leigh. You didn’t come to me. Wouldn’t answer my calls. Not even a fucking text,” he bites out angrily.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeat, but I can hardly hear by own voice this time. My heart is starting to pound in my chest, I’m not used to Tony being angry. For months he’s been nothing but sweet, kind, and gentle. But not anymore. He’s pissed and it’s all directed at me.

  “I was shot, but you know what? That wasn’t the worst part. Do you want to know what was more painful than a bullet to my gut?” he asks leaning forward, putting emphasis on his words with his body as well as his voice. “That I’m only ten minutes away from you and I have no fucking idea if you’re okay. If you’re dreaming. Dreaming dreams that haunt you, Leigh. I saw it every time you had one and I came to you. But you took yourself away from me in every way.” He raises his voice even further, piercing through his big quiet house and yells while slamming his hand to the counter in front of him. “For two fucking weeks, I don’t know if you’re okay!”

  I feel my chest rising with my labored breathing and pounding heart. I’ve got to get out of here. Escape. He can’t do this. He needs someone better, someone who can be normal and he can be happy with. I’ll never be able to be that for him.

  “I know what you’re doing, but I can’t be with you, Tony,” I say.

  “Why the hell not?” he yells.

  “I’m not good for you.”

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of what’s good for me.”

  “No. You deserve someone who isn’t broken and a mess like me.”

  “Why are you broken?” he demands.

  “You know why I’m broken,” I whisper.

  “What do you dream about?” he pushes, raising his voice again, his tone even more insistent.

  “This can’t happen,” I mutter and start to move backwards, turning toward the door where I came from.

  But Tony’s quicker, surprising me after just having surgery and moves between me and foyer. He steps in close, keeping up all his intensity, challenging me. “What haunts you?”

  “I’ve got to go.” I start to panic and try to sidestep him, but he moves in front of me.

  Lifting his hands up to the sides of my neck and holding me firmly in place, he demands, “Tell me.”

  “Please let me go.” I hear my own voice small, pained, and fearful.

  He doesn’t let me go or move away. I feel myself trembling in his hands. It’s been months but my body is trained, telling me to go into terror mode. Sliding his hands up into my hair holding the sides of my head firmly, he brings his face to mine and his tone turns guttural and intense. “I will never hurt you, Leigh.”

  “Let me go,” I plead, feeling the tears come.

  “Never. I am not him. I will always handle you with care.”

  “Please,” I beg and grab onto his forearms to pull away.

  He holds me firmly. “Why do you wake up whimpering? Almost crying?”

  I shake my head. “Tony.”

  “Why won’t you let yourself be happy?”

  “Please stop,” I beg and real
ize my tears are spilling over, running down my cheeks.

  “Tell me what you dream, Leigh,” he demands.

  The word comes out as a squeak as I’m still shaking my head in his hands. “No.”

  He doesn’t let up, he raises his voice even more. “Why do you think you’re broken?”

  Not being able to take another second, I scream, “Because it’s my fault!” The tears pour down my face. “It’s my fault. I killed my baby!”

  I feel my legs give out and crumple to the floor. Tony grabs me as best he can, coming down with me. My cries are out of control and his arms come around me as he fits me between his bent legs, pulling me tight to his chest.

  I shake with sobs as my nightmare spills from my lips. “I was lonely and wanted something to love, just one thing good in my life so I went off the pill without him knowing. He would come at me for sex and take what he wanted, when he wanted it. I knew I could get pregnant. I did it knowing he was cheating on me, that he would hit me, emotionally drain me. But I did it anyway because I was selfish, I was lonely, but really, I was just weak. I needed something good, everything was bad. He was so angry when I told him I was pregnant and he showed me just how angry he was and I lost my baby. But it’s my fault. I might as well have killed it myself…”

  He pulls me in tighter and tries to shush me with his lips against my hair, but I fist my hands in his shirt and go on between my sobs. “What was I thinking? Bringing a child into that? Who would do that? I was so stupid, it’s all my fault.”

  I’ve lost it. Saying it out loud is too much. Tony puts a hand to the back of my head and stuffs my face in his neck, rocking me back and forth still shushing my cries. “Is that what you dream?”

  I nod against his chest unable to stop crying. “I feel the pain. Every time, I feel it like it’s real. There’s blood everywhere and I swear I can touch it. But the noise is the worst, it’s a baby crying and it’s earsplitting, I can’t take it.”

  “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he whispers against my hair.

  I fist his shirt in my hands tighter and get the strangled words out. “You need someone better, Tony. You deserve someone better.”

  “Stop talking,” he demands.

  I don’t know how much time goes by that we sit on the floor while I cry it out. Finally, I try my best to pull in a lung full of air to calm myself. “I need to go.”

  “You’re not going anywhere. It’s good you brought the dog, you’re staying with me. There’s no way I’m letting you leave.”

  “No, Tony, I can’t. Don’t you see?”

  He pulls my head back from him and pushes his fingers up in my hair again to hold me steady. “What I see is someone blaming herself for something that isn’t her fault. I see a beautiful woman who has an even more beautiful heart. You’re terrified of letting yourself be happy and not forgiving yourself for something that needs no forgiveness. I told you way back you have a beautiful life and I swear to you, you’re going to realize it sooner than later. But you cannot take yourself away from me again. Never again, Leigh. Promise me.”

  I try to reconcile all he’s said. He knows it all now. I got pregnant knowing Preston didn’t know nor did he want a baby. I was weak, needed something to love and thought a child would fill that void.

  I must not be responding fast enough, because his fingers flex in my head. “Promise me. I need your promise, gem.”

  Because I’m weak and can’t help it, I finally give in. I don’t know what else to do. I see the tension leave his body. He almost slumps in front of me, resting his forehead on mine with what seems like relief. A relief that exposes him completely. Exposing himself to me is beautiful. Exquisite. He opens his eyes and pulls back enough to sweep my face only the way he can. Another gift.

  “Thank you,” he says. He moves gingerly to his feet and puts a hand out to help me up.

  I get up without his help so I don’t hurt him while wiping the tears away from my face. “I guess you don’t have an infection?”

  He puts his hands to my face again, his thumbs sweeping my cheeks and pulls me close. “No, I don’t have an infection. But I do have you back.” He kisses my forehead, yet another gift I’ve missed dearly. “Come on. I’m tired. We’re going to bed. I’ve missed sleeping with you, sweetheart. It’s been a long two weeks.”

  Exhausted from my crying jag, I don’t have it in me to fight him after all I just bared. In my weakened state, I allow myself to admit I’ve missed sleeping with him, too. More than anything.

  He takes my hand and I look around to take in more of his house as he pulls me around the corner, down a short hall into his bedroom. Now I feel like we’re in unchartered territory. There was something strangely natural about Tony working his way into my bed before. Coming to me every night to make sure I didn’t dream or comfort me if I did. I mean, we were at Gabby’s house, I’m just a guest there and it’s not even my bed.

  But this is Tony’s bedroom. A very nice bedroom. There’s a huge chest along the side wall in a dark honey color, probably pine, and very distressed. Facing his bed is a low dresser in a grey with another television mounted over it. The bed is covered in beige linen fabric with a wood frame painted the same grey. It’s messy and unmade with tons of pillows. On either side of the bed stand mismatched nightstands, both in the same matte black finish, probably something Gabby refinished for him.

  He drags me to the huge pine dresser, opens a drawer, yanks out a t-shirt and shoves it my way. “Bathroom’s in there. Help yourself to whatever you need. You can use my toothbrush.”

  I stop dead in my tracks and turn around. “I’m not using your toothbrush.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not, that’s why not.”

  “I don’t mind,” he says.

  “Well, I mind,” I shoot back.

  I must be too dazed from my recent drama, crying jag, revealing what I revealed, taking in his bedroom and on top of all that, him offering me his toothbrush. Quicker than I realize, he grabs me behind my head and pulls me to him with his mouth landing on mine. I open mine to protest, but it’s too late because his tongue dips immediately in my mouth to sweep mine.

  Again, it’s like a caress. Another gift. I can’t help but to feel it down to my soul and melt into him. I’ve missed his caresses terribly. He takes control, his tongue dancing with mine and I feel his hand at the back of my head and his other angled down my back with his hand on the side of my far lower hip, holding me to him tight. His lips are strong and he tastes incredible. He slows our kiss, but doesn’t pull away, holding my face close as if to savor the moment.

  As much as he surprised me, he breaks our beautiful moment. “Finally. That was way overdue. Now you can use my toothbrush.” He pulls me in and kisses me one more time before letting me go. Smiling down at me, he turns me giving me another nudge to the bathroom.

  Still dazed by my drama and now my first real Tony kiss, I head into the bathroom to find something to wash my face. Then I brush my teeth using Tony’s toothbrush. As I do this, I hear him letting Mia out and doing some stuff in the kitchen. I change out of my clothes and into Tony’s t-shirt, trying not to let it register how good it feels against my skin.

  Leaving my clothes folded in the bathroom, I pad out barefoot to the bedroom as Tony is pulling something else from his pine chest of drawers. He turns and stops. His gaze, intense again but in a different way, move over me from head to toe and back up again, making me catch my breath. He moves to me and putting a hand to my jaw, he lifts my head to kiss me softly on the lips. Letting me go, he walks around me without a word and goes into the bathroom.

  I let out my breath and move to his big bed. It’s bigger than the one we sleep in at Gabby’s. I climb in, tuck my knees under his big shirt and wait on him. When he comes out of his bathroom in nothing but his pajama pants, exactly like he normally comes to me, I look directly to his new scar on the left side of his torso. It’s still pink and puckered, marring his perfect body.


  With my legs moving on their own accord, I rise to my knees and shuffle myself to the edge of the bed. He comes straight to me and I bring my hand up to his puckered still healing incision to run my fingers over it.

  Not able to look him in the eyes, I stare at his scar. “Are you still in pain?”

  “Pain, no. Discomfort sometimes? Yes. But it’s not bad.”

  I feel my tears start again and have to make myself look up to him. His hands come to my face and through my new tears I quietly state the obvious, “You were shot.”

  “Don’t.”

  “I could have lost you,” I whisper.

  “Leigh—”

  “I was scared.”

  He sighs. “I’m sorry, gem. I never want you to be scared again. Have you been dreaming?”

  I quickly lower my head to look at his scar again, not wanting to answer.

  “Leigh?” he presses.

  I give him a small nod and hear him breathe in before his thumbs come to my chin, lifting my face his. “I’ll take care of you.”

  Feeling so badly I wasn’t here to take care of him, I pull in a steadying breath and try to change the subject. “When are you going back to work?”

  “The day after tomorrow. But I’ve been working from home.”

  “You need to rest, Tony. Your body needs to heal. You shouldn’t overdue it, you’ll create scar tissue,” I lecture, letting the nurse come out in me is easier than thinking about what could have been.

  “When do you have another shift?”

  “Not for three more days, why?”

  “You can make sure I rest tonight and tomorrow. And tomorrow night. How about that?”

  He puts his hands under my jaw again pulling me up to kiss him. I don’t say anything to him but I do give him a small smile. He steps back to pick Mia up, tossing her lightly on the bed. Excited by her new surroundings, she dances around sniffing, searching for the perfect spot to settle in for the night. Tony climbs in but reaches for the remote on his nightstand and flips on the TV. He settles himself on a couple of pillows and pulls me into his side opposite his scar.