Sixty Nine (Payne Brothers Romance Book 4)

by Sosie Frost

  “Yes, you can. Look to the future instead. You can heal.”

  And yet he didn’t believe me. What part of misery and despair was more comforting than hope and joy?

  “There’s nothing to heal,” he whispered. “Glory, there’s nothing left of me. How the hell am I supposed to convince you? Tear my chest open? Bleed from the hole where my heart used to be?” He pummeled his chest with his fist. “There’s nothing inside of me now. No soul. No feelings. I’m numb. And if the Lord has any mercy left, he’d let me stay that way.”

  I shook my head. “That’s no way to live.”

  “No, but it’s the only way to survive. The only way I can make sense of what happened in this life.”

  And what would happen when he never found those answers?

  “Maybe there isn’t anything to understand,” I said. “Isn’t that why they say it’s God’s will? Isn’t that what it means? We don’t know why these terrible things happen, we don’t know why good souls are taken from us, or why we’re left with such pain. But you heard Samantha—all that matters is that people like you exist in this world. People who help others through those terrible times. People who give that guidance.”

  The words dragged from his lips. “I can’t guide anyone.”

  “You could if you tried.” I groaned. “V, you’re so stuck in the past that you’re terrified of what might happen if you finally let someone help you.”

  His jaw tensed. “You’re one to talk.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You never wanted help. Didn’t tell me about Andre. Never talked about the abuse. He broke your wrist, and you never said a fucking word.”

  I flinched. Varius never swore.

  And he never got angry.

  But that was good. Anger was good. Feeling anything was good, if he confronted it. Embraced it.

  “There’s a big difference between us,” I said. “I hid my past because I didn’t have a choice. I hid it because it was dangerous for me and Lulu, not because I didn’t trust you. I had to run to make sure no more wrists were broken—mine or hers.” I held my arms out. “So, ask me now. Ask me anything. What do you want to know? I’ll tell you. Everything. Whatever you want, V. Just talk to me.”

  But he didn’t want to talk. Even worse, he refused to listen.

  He stood, but I didn’t back away. I forced him to face me.

  But he didn’t fight or yell, swear or confess that which raged within him. The fatigue of his own sorrow finally overwhelmed him. He brushed my cheek with his hand and let his voice break.

  “Let’s keep running,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  His touch pained me. “We’ll start over. Run away. Find a new place. Forget the past, ignore the future. We could live in the now. Just…leave the pain.”

  My heart broke for him. For us. “That’s not possible, V.”

  “We’ll make it possible.”

  “Life will always have its pain.” A harsh lesson we’d already learned. “Terrible things will happen with no reason, no explanation. We can’t hide from it. You need to confront it.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then don’t do it for you!” I sighed as he walked away from me, pausing only to watch as Lulu waved at him from the ground. “Do it for everyone else. For the people who love you. Your community. Your family.” I gestured around us. “Your church.”

  “I have no church.”

  “Are you that blind, or do you really not know? Look at the pageant, the congregation! Don’t you see how much they love you?”

  “It’s not about love.”

  “Are you just going to betray them all?”

  “I’ve already destroyed them, Glory! And, now, I’m making up for those past mistakes—for not being there, for not being the man they thought I was or the leader I hoped I could be. Right now, I’m doing all I can to make sure the church survives.”

  “Except be there for them.”

  The subtle bite of anger shadowed his words. “Why do you think I’m helping with this pageant? The diocese is going to close the church. If we don’t make any money, they won’t have enough in the budget for a new minister.”

  And I’d spent all goddamned day trying to ruin the pageant. Booze in the make-up room. A blowtorch near the Christmas tree. Corn feed tucked inside the manger.

  Nothing had worked.

  “Christ, V…don’t you think I know that?” I asked. “Why else would I be trying to sabotage the damned pageant?”

  His voice darkened. “Sabotage?”

  Was he that naïve? “Have you seen the production? I have a seventy-six-year-old Virgin Mary. Your brother is the Sugar Plum Fairy. I’ve approved every single act to cross my desk—even the ones with no rhythm, talent, or connection to Christmas. We have interpretive dances, mimes, snow men dressed like angels, angels dressed like burlesque dancers, and a handful of Alzheimer’s patients stuck somewhere between ten lords-a-leapin’ and eight maids-a-milkin’.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I wanted the pageant to fail,” I said. “I knew there was no way you’d let the church close. If the pageant failed, you’d have to stay. But I thought…I’d hoped…you would have realized you’d belonged here by now. That you’d be ready to become the minister again.”

  The chill silenced the room. Varius said nothing. Probably for the best.

  He could deny it, but he was a man of God. The words he might have uttered were not holy.

  Or fit for a child’s ears.

  Lulu tugged on my leg. Her lower lip plumped out, and she stared from me to Varius.

  My daughter was still a toddler, but she understood fighting, aggravation, and misery. Christ. It wasn’t fair to her. Wasn’t fair to me.

  And it wasn’t fair to the one man who might have helped us escape that negativity and heartache.

  Varius scowled. I hated that hardness etched into his face. “I’ve told you, Glory. I’ve told everyone. I keep repeating the same thing, again and again. I am not the minister anymore.”

  “No one believes it, V,” I said. “I know I don’t.”

  “Isn’t that ironic?” He laughed to the Heavens. “No one wants to believe that I’ve lost my faith.”

  He wasn’t fooling me. “Because you haven’t. There’s still something inside of you. A spirit. A calling. Something that you refuse to acknowledge.”

  “You really think I can fall to my knees, look to the sky, and worship anything?” He clenched his jaw, his fists. “The only one I worship now is you, but you’re hell-bent on tormenting me just like Him.”

  The truth ached through my chest only to be punished by my own heart.

  God. How could I have been so foolish?

  Why did I let this go on for so long?

  The tears surprised me. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried.

  “You need to worship something,” I whispered. “But it isn’t me. I’m not your savior, but you keep putting all your faith in me like I can help you, heal you, save you. It’s a lie, Varius. And it’s wrong.”

  “Are you lecturing me about idolatry?”

  “I just want you to see—”

  Varius paced again, his steps heavy with misery. His body shook, every part of him, but he still wouldn’t ask for help. Only looked for the excuse to keep hiding in his denial.

  “Do you really think I could face the congregation with no faith, no passion, no answers for them?” His whisper echoed with a prayer masked as a profanity. “How can I look to the sky and explain why God would kill that innocent girl instead of punishing anyone else in town? Instead of taking me?”

  “Did you want to die then?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want Him to take you now?”

  He didn’t answer. My stomach rolled with grief. It wasn’t fair that I should mourn for this man while he still lived.

  “I need you in my life, Glory,” he said. “I want to be a part of you. I want to be inside of
you. I want everything that is you.”

  And what peace would it give him once he had me?

  None.

  I wasn’t the answer—I was the curse.

  “And I want you…” My closed my eyes. “But I need the man who understands who he is, what his place is in this life. I know your purpose isn’t to hide and deny all the gifts God gave you. You fear that life, V. What are you afraid you’ll find?”

  He shook his head. “Pain?”

  “I’d never let anything hurt you.”

  “You’re too late to protect me,” he said. “You have no idea the depths of depression and rage that had consumed me. It stole me from this world and trapped me in a living Hell. I’d never wish that pain on you, even if it would make you understand even a fraction of that nothingness. I’m this way—I’m this shell now—because it was the only way to survive that misery.”

  “But what kind of life do you have?”

  “I never pretended to be happy,” he said. “But I can make you happy. I can give you pleasure. Protection. Whatever you ask of me, Glory, I’ll give it to you. But I can’t step foot on the pulpit again. And after the pageant, I won’t come back to this church.”

  My breath trembled. So did the rest of me. “Could you live like that?”

  “I have no choice.”

  I didn’t believe that. I refused to believe it.

  He’d offered me everything except for his soul. But without it?

  His love was meaningless.

  How could I love a man who didn’t love himself?

  How could I heal a man who refused all help?

  My words tumbled from numb lips. “As long as you want to be broken, I can’t fix you.”

  “And if you think there’s something to fix…” His words softened. “This will never work.”

  Lulu reached for me. I hardly had the strength to pick her up. I cuddled her close; grateful for the distraction that turned me from the beautiful, haunted man who’d charmed and crushed my heart.

  “The pageant starts tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll be gone once it finishes.”

  “I’m…sorry.”

  I stared at the door, my hand on the handle. “For what?”

  He’d given up. His words were lost to sorrow. “That you thought you could heal me.”

  That wasn’t it at all. He still didn’t understand, and that was all the reason I needed to leave, to shut it all behind me, and to escape Butterpond forever.

  I wouldn’t let him see the tears fall.

  “I’m sorry you don’t realize how badly you need the help.”

  17

  Varius

  Was it a sin to break promises?

  Was it any worse to break hearts?

  I’d done both, but I didn’t feel any different from before. No less depressed or wicked, disappointed or miserable. Yet something had changed this time.

  I’d left the church because I had nothing more to offer.

  But I’d turned away from Glory when she offered me everything.

  I believed she was an angel. But what sort of holy blessing would drag a man through hell?

  It was my own fault. I’d let myself hope, allowed myself to feel that terrible lie that promised so much, delivered so little, and wrecked lives. I’d expected Glory to be something more, someone to stop the pain.

  But she only caused more. Made me see what I wanted in this life was impossible. Suffering had no end. Life was darkness, an endless void of every broken promise and forgotten hope in an absence of Heavenly warmth.

  I didn’t know what I searched for when I met Glory, but I realized what I’d found all too late.

  A reflection of my own soul.

  No wonder she couldn’t love me. No surprise she was so desperate to change me. Even Glory couldn’t face the reality of what I’d become.

  It was hard to sit in the dark when a snowstorm blasted a reflected brightness into the kitchen. Did my best, staring at a bottle of beer I’d left unopened. Didn’t have much cause to drink it, but I had even less not to get drunk.

  Numb had never felt so brutal before.

  Tidus pounded into the kitchen, his steps uneven and rough. Just waking up? God only knew when the man slept anymore. Probably when the hangover got too painful.

  He squinted out the window, blinded by the snow. The swirling storm gusted against the old farmhouse, creaking every loose timber. I doubted the porch roof would last. The dry rotted shingles needed to be replaced, but more dire projects took the last of our money. The farm was a bottomless pit for cash and debt. Might have been better if we’d let the blizzard take it away with the wind.

  The howling, shrieking, endless wind.

  At least the tornado was spawned from Hell in an instant and returned just as quickly. The snow storm was an endless, piercing scream.

  Tidus stole the beer from me. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the church?”

  He still smelled like whiskey. I groaned. “Aren’t you supposed to be sober?”

  Tidus had a hangover. Meant he had no patience. Not that he ever had much, but he might have spared a little compassion. Then again, all that filled his spirit was poison, bottled and bubbling.

  “You should know me better than that by now.” Tidus dragged a chair out from under the table. The scrape against the floor set my teeth on edge. “Neither of us have lived up to expectations lately.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but I wouldn’t be the one to tell him he was right. “What are you doing here?”

  “Figured I’d haul myself out of the gutter for the pageant.” He eyed me with a frown. “Maybe you should do the same.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Opening-night jitters?” He shook the bottle. “I can get you something stronger than a beer if you want to see her again.”

  The last person I wanted to see was Glory, though Tidus was quickly wearing out his welcome.

  “I don’t need the company right now,” I said.

  “See, that’s the thing…” Tidus reclined in the chair. “We had this wrong all along. You’ve needed company for a lot longer than any of us realized. Just so happened you took comfort in Mary Magdalene instead of a holy virgin.”

  Tidus, of all people, thought he could judge Glory?

  Absolutely not.

  “You’d be wise to keep your mouth shut about her,” I said.

  “Never been very wise,” he laughed. “And I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with Glory. Hell, a night with those tits and a bottle of Jack? She’d save my soul too.”

  I jammed the table into his midsection and stood. Tidus caught me before I could escape, slamming me into the chair once more.

  He stayed silent, grinning a bastard’s smile.

  “What the hell do you want?” I asked. “I got better things to do than punch-out a miserable drunk.”

  “I liked you better when you were getting laid.”

  Me too. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

  Tidus pushed the bottle away from my reaching grasp. “You don’t need the beer.”

  “Since when have you ever denied yourself a drinking buddy?”

  He shrugged. “There’s the difference between you and me—I drink to forget my mistakes, you’re drinking to make them.”

  It did no good to start fights.

  I did it anyway.

  “You think you can judge me?” I asked. “Look at you. You’re drunk now, you’ll get drunk tomorrow, and you’ll get drunk the next day. Not sure what you hate more, yourself or your liver. You can hardly work, and you force Quint to cover your ass in the garage. And even though you’re twenty-seven years old, you’d rather start fights than make peace. You’re a goddamned mess.”

  “I know you are, but what am I?” Tidus said. “Pretty sure that’s in the Bible somewhere.”

  “Yeah. Pee-Wee’s Proverbs.” After that, I really needed the drink. “Why don’t you page through the Scriptures? Try to find it.”

  “Who needs to read it when y
ou can preach it to me?”

  It was bait, but I still took it, fool that I was. “What do you want?”

  “Decided to get in your face,” he said. That much was obvious. “Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

  “So, you want to fight?”

  “I would if it’d do you a goddamned bit of good.” He frowned. “You really want to sit here and drink? Be all sullen and lost, like no one can possibly understand your pain? How many more times are you going to act so fucking stupid before you make that final mistake?”

  “Is this your idea of support?”

  “Support would be putting the gun on this table so you could end it like a man.” Tidus crossed his arms. “I’m giving you options. Ones you desperately need. For fuck’s sake, V. I’m supposed to be the screw-up. Not you.”

  Rage flared through me, and I nearly tasted sulfur. “We’re done here.”

  Tidus blocked my path. “No.”

  I shoved him away, jostling the table and upsetting the beer. Foam billowed over the long neck and spilled. The bottle crashed, rolling onto the floor and shattering at our feet.

  Tidus usually lived for this shit. But today? He scowled, dark and enraged.

  “You gonna fight me?” he asked. “Do it.”

  I swung, but my brother blocked the punch. He flinched though. Surprised.

  His warning was a low grumble. “You think I won’t hurt you?”

  “I’m counting on it,” I said.

  “You want to hurt me?”

  “No more than you’ve already done to yourself.”

  Tidus pushed me away before I approached. I hadn’t had anything to drink, but fury and despair clouded my head. I stumbled back, gritting my teeth.

  “What the hell are you doing to yourself?” Tidus swore. “Since when are you the violent one? Since when do you solve shit with your fists? You’re a goddamned animal anymore, V. First Andre, now me?”

  The words tore from my throat. “Why does everyone think I’m so fucking Godly? Why do I gotta be the one to obey the commandments, play by the rules, keep the goddamned faith?”

  Tidus sneered, disgusted. “Because you’re the only man in this family worth a damn. Time you start acting like it again.”