Crux Untamed

by Tillie Cole

  My usual response to things was to smile. Crack a joke. Be a smart-ass. But there was just something about Hush that made all of that fall away. The deep dark part of me that I suppressed, every second of every day, reacted to Hush’s presence. Like he was trying to escape the same kind of darkness that lived in me too.

  My jokes and sass didn’t belong around Hush.

  He somehow made me . . . vulnerable. Something I wasn’t used to fucking being with anyone.

  Hush’s eyes fell to the space on the couch. I had no idea what was going on in his mind, but I saw the moment he decided to walk away from us. The ice-cold frost that was a permanent fixture in his eyes was back. “I’ll make us something to eat,” he mumbled and moved toward the kitchen.

  Acting on instinct, I took hold of his fingers with my own as he passed. Hush stopped dead and squeezed his eyes shut. His chest rose and fell, his breathing slow. His fingers were so damn cold.

  I wanted to warm them. I wanted him to open his eyes and smile.

  I realized I just wanted him . . . period.

  “I’ll help you cook,” I offered, my voice shaking. I prayed he wouldn’t reject me again.

  My breathing hitched when Hush’s finger moved and ghosted over mine. I didn’t dare look away from his face, just in case he wanted to look at me. Do anything other than scowl at me. But he kept his stare forward, eventually slipping his hand from mine. My hand felt empty. Cold.

  “You stay with him. He needs you right now.” Hush’s voice was strained. He moved to the kitchen.

  His departure left a sudden chill in the air.

  I grabbed the bottle of bourbon and took a sip, feeling the liquor travel down my throat. I rarely drank, but right now I needed it. Closing my eyes, I laid my head back and continued running my hand through Cowboy’s hair. I drifted off to the sound of Hush cooking in the kitchen . . .

  When I opened my eyes, the fire had been lit and Hush was standing before me holding a bowl. Cowboy was sitting up beside me, already eating. Hush moved across the room—as far away as he could get from us—and took his place by the fire.

  “I fell asleep?”

  Cowboy nodded. “Don’t worry, cher. You still looked fucking beautiful even when you were snoring.”

  I rolled my eyes when he smiled with a mouth full of food. “Firstly, fuck off. And secondly, how’s your arm?”

  “Still here.”

  I looked across at Hush. He was silent, staring intently into the flames. They were as untouchable as he was.

  Cowboy, for once, wasn’t smiling as he followed my gaze. In that moment, as he looked to Hush, he too appeared . . . broken. Just as Hush did as he grew more and more lost in the flames dancing in the hearth.

  I had no idea what the hell was going on.

  “Cowboy?” I reached out to touch his arm. Cowboy broke from whatever had filled his mind. He gave me a small smile. But then he looked back at Hush and sighed. I could hear the devastation in that one simple breath.

  Without even knowing what haunted them both right then, I felt truly sad.

  Hush curled in on himself, toward the fire. I tried to work out the enigma that was this man. “He doesn’t say much, does he?”

  “It’s why people think he’s called Hush.”

  I turned to Cowboy, intrigued. “It’s not?”

  He sighed deeply . . . sadly, and then glanced at his best friend. “It’s not even close.”

  I let this new piece of information hang in the air. When only the sound of the crackling fire could be heard, I took a spoonful of the food Hush had cooked. I closed my eyes when the flavors hit my tongue. “Hush.” I looked down. Gumbo. “This is delicious.”

  Hush looked over at me but said nothing. He stared at his feet, and then abruptly stood from the chair. “I’m gonna go to bed.” I watched him go to the hallway that led to the stairs, as did Cowboy.

  “He can cook,” I said, smiling at that little discovery about the perpetually closed-off man.

  “His daddy taught him that recipe,” Cowboy said absently, eyes still on the empty hallway.

  “He back in Louisiana?”

  Cowboy tensed. “He ain’t with us anymore, cher.”

  The smile slipped from my face. I didn’t dare ask anything else. The devastating expression on Cowboy’s face told me not to. Cowboy reached across me to take the bourbon. He downed several gulps before handing it back to me. I did the same.

  “Careful, cher. You’ll get drunk.”

  I ran my hand down my face, sighing. “I’m thinking that might not be such a bad thing tonight.”

  “Then give the bottle the fuck this way, and I’ll join you on your journey to Trashedsville.”

  An hour ticked by, and a second bottle of bourbon was opened. The room had started to tilt slightly. “I’m feeling tipsy,” I said, a high-pitched giggle slipping from my throat. I slammed my hand over my mouth, eyes wide. “What the hell was that fucking cheesy-ass sound that just slipped from my mouth?” I groaned. “Shoot me if it ever falls from my lips again.”

  Cowboy leaned close. “You can’t help it, cher. It’s my exuberant presence. Makes all the bitches in a fifty-yard radius turn into giggling schoolgirls.”

  I rolled my eyes, but then stared at Cowboy’s profile. Unable to control my words, I stated, “You’re real fucking handsome. I’ll give you that.”

  He smiled, showing me his white teeth. “Merci, cher. From you, that’s a real fucking compliment.” His tongue wrapped around the French words, and I closed my eyes, replaying them like a lullaby in my head.

  “Merci, cher,” I imitated, opening my eyes when his hand ran up my leg.

  “You mocking my accent?” Cowboy thickened his accent, the everyday exotic words falling off his tongue like melted butter.

  “Never!” I said jokingly. “But seriously, I do love how you sound. How you both sound . . . it’s beautiful.”

  “Yeah?” He leaned in closer, his arm now able to hold more of his weight than a few hours before. I shifted, heat traveling faster up my legs and onward to my stomach the closer he came. I quickly fucking sobered up.

  “Yeah.”

  I held my breath as Cowboy crawled toward me only to snag the bottle from beside me. I blew out a shuddering exhale. Cowboy’s muscled arms flexed as he lifted the bottle to his full lips. When he pulled the bottle away, his tongue darted out and licked a drop of bourbon that was falling.

  “Tell me,” I heard myself saying. Cowboy looked at me. Swallowing, I ignored the heat in my cheeks and said, “How does it work?” Cowboy looked puzzled. I shifted in my seat. “With you and Hush . . . and the women. How do you . . . do it?” I felt my face blaze, but I held my ground. I wanted to know. Since the day he told me of the way they had sex, I could barely think of anything else.

  Cowboy’s pupils dilated. The question hung in the air between us. He took another sip of bourbon, and then turned his body toward me. His fingers landed on my foot, stroking the skin. “You wanna know, cher?” he asked, his voice husky from the bourbon.

  “Yes,” I whispered back, my thighs clenching together as his light touch on my skin sent shivers up my spine.

  “First, we take her back to a room,” he said. My chest flushed, and I knew it wasn’t from the fire. His rich accent gave life to the everyday words. Cowboy traced his finger over the bottom of my jeans and up my shin. “One of us leads her toward the bed.” He circled his finger around my calf. “The other trails behind.” My gaze was fixed on his mouth as I imagined the scene in my head. “Slowly, we strip her of her clothes. One item at a time, our mouths beginning to kiss every inch of the newly bared flesh.” I shifted where I sat as his finger reached my knee. Cowboy licked his lips. “Her tits are freed, and we each take a nipple in our mouths, making her moan.” My eyes widened. “We devour her body, until one of us moves between her legs.” He shrugged. “Then . . .” His hand crept higher still until it was on my thigh. I squeezed my legs together and fought the moan that was threatening
to spill from my mouth at the image. Because I didn’t see some random club slut in my head.

  I saw me.

  I saw Cowboy.

  I saw Hush.

  I swallowed, trying to wet my dry throat. “Then what?”

  Cowboy’s mouth moved to my ear. “The rest, cher, I’ll keep to myself.”

  I exhaled a frustrated breath and playfully slapped him on the arm. “You’re no fun!” Cowboy threw me another fucking wink. When I had completely calmed down, I asked, “So? How many have you been with?”

  Cowboy tore his eyes away from watching his finger trace patterns on my thigh. “Haven’t kept track.”

  I didn’t know why, but my stomach sank at that. I didn’t know if he sensed my disappointment, but he placed his finger under my chin and guided my head up. He stayed still until I lifted my eyes and met his. “But not one of those sluts mattered to us.” I blinked, then tried to stop my heart from bursting apart as he added, “I’ve been looking for one who does for a real fucking long time.”

  “Y-you have?” I whispered, feeling dizzy. The alcohol was clearly fucking with my head again. Cowboy lifted onto his hands and crawled forward until he was half above me on the couch.

  “Oui.”

  “And Hush?”

  Cowboy’s eyes narrowed in thought. “I’m gonna tell you something about Hush, cher. The brother don’t think much of himself.” I felt an immediate ache of sadness, Hush’s handsome face appearing in my mind. Cowboy looked back toward the dying fire. “He feels he should be alone. Only ever relies on me. That’s because I was there when . . .” Cowboy’s words trailed off to nothing. “He’s lonely, cher. We’re both lonely.”

  “Cowboy,” I murmured, all humor forgotten, and laid my hand on his cheek. He turned into my palm.

  “Valan . . . Hush . . . has more fucking layers than I can explain to you. Shit from his past often fucks with his head. Makes him think he’s worth nothing. That people shouldn’t want to be around him.” He laughed, but the sound was fucking free of any humor. “That he shouldn’t be loved. That we’d be better off as just us. The way it’s been for years. Because then he can keep what bothers him locked away, without ever having to open up his fucking caged heart again.”

  A lump blocked my throat. I wanted to know what had made Hush this way. What had happened that made him live alone rather than look for or accept the love of another. But then, I knew I was a hypocrite. Because apart from Styx and Ky, no one knew about me. About my past. I had pushed everyone away, blaming the club for all the shit I’d gone through. But in reality, it was me. I shut everyone out. Kept what had happened in Mexico within me and shared it with no one else. Not even Ky and Styx knew the full extent of it.

  My lower back and the tops of my thighs burned. Another secret I had kept to myself. Ky would never cope with that truth . . . why I had never, and was sure I could never bare myself to a man again.

  I wasn’t even sure I could do this with Cowboy.

  “Cher?” Cowboy asked, concern on his face.

  I stared into his blue eyes, so open and truthful. “I . . .” I glanced away into the dying fire. “I’ve only ever been with him,” I whispered, hearing the crack in my voice just as a piece of wood snapped in the fire.

  Cowboy turned to stone above me. I didn’t dare meet his eyes. But now that I’d opened my mouth and begun releasing the truth, I couldn’t stop. “He . . . After I came back from Mexico . . . I’ve never trusted anyone else. I . . .” I inhaled a breath. “I haven’t let anyone get close.” I counted to three, and then lifted my eyes to his. “Until you . . . and Hush . . . if he would just let me.”

  “Cher,” he whispered, saying more in that one word than a million could say. He lifted his hand and slowly brought it to my face. He ran the back of his fingers down my cheek. “He hurt you . . .” Cowboy wasn’t asking a question. I knew Ky had told them some of my story. I just wasn’t sure how much.

  A tear escaped down my cheek and I squeezed my eyes shut. Cowboy closed in, and I sucked in a breath when I felt him kiss away the damn drop. Cowboy lingered, his lips brushing against the skin on my cheek.

  “You’re both so fucking broken,” he whispered. The tears I’d been fighting started to fall. Cowboy pressed his forehead against mine. He palmed my cheeks and brushed the droplets away with his thumbs. “From the minute we met you, I could see in you what I see in him every day . . . loneliness.” My chest tightened at his words. Because they were real . . . they spoke the truth. “Two people who are lost, two people who don’t know how the fuck to escape the darkness they’re living in.”

  “Cowboy,” I said hoarsely and felt my chest start to rack with sobs. Ignoring his injury, Cowboy pulled me into his arms. I fell against him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

  I cried.

  I cried, allowing the pain I’d kept so deeply hidden to break through. Cowboy hushed me and stroked my back. My eyes grew sore from the tears, but I just clung on. Cowboy was offering me something I’d never accepted since I came back: a place to feel safe. A place of no judgment, where I could just fucking cry without explaining what happened there, why I ran, what I found out, who I lost.

  I looked at the clock above the fire and saw that an hour had passed. Cowboy continued stroking my back. I blinked, my eyes dry and gritty from the tears. “Better?” he asked softly.

  I ducked my eyes, letting out a single sharp laugh. “Sorry.”

  He lifted my chin with his finger until I met his eyes. “Never, cher. Never fucking apologize.” Sadness flashed across his handsome face. “I know you’ve had it rough. I would never guess at how badly that cunt hurt you.” He threaded his hand through mine. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from how perfect they looked joined together. “But we would never do that to you.”

  Cowboy looked right into my eyes. I didn’t know what he was looking for—maybe permission—but whatever it was, he must have found it, because he leaned forward, slipped his hand on my cheek, and kissed me. Fear stabbed at my chest as Cowboy’s lips stayed on mine. The darkness I lived with tried to force itself into my mind, between our mouths. But for once, for the first fucking time in all the years I had let it control me, I pushed it away and opened my lips.

  Cowboy groaned and gently slipped his tongue inside my mouth. I shakily placed my hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath my palm. His breath was warm against my face, his lips were soft, and his tongue danced with mine. I let him take control. I closed my eyes and just let myself feel . . .

  I moaned, Cowboy catching the sound with his mouth. And he kissed me. He kissed me and kissed me, wiping away the stain that had been left on this part of me a long time ago. I felt the cords of Mexico, of him, begin to break. Not fully, but enough to make it easier for me to fucking breathe. To move, without feeling the ever-present pull of Juan drawing me back to his side. The scars he had left on me calmed, their burning marks cooling under Cowboy’s hands.

  When he broke away, I kept my eyes closed, happily sitting with the tingling feel of his sweet taste on my lips. “Now that,” I said and smiled, eyes still shut, “was worth the hype.”

  “Sleep, cher,” he whispered, chuckling softly at my words. He laid me down on the couch. I let him guide me to the soft cushions. I didn’t open my eyes, but I felt him lie beside me. He stroked the hair from my face. “We’ll look after you now.”

  He curled me against him, my back to his chest, and wrapped his arm around me. I sighed in contentment, more comfortable than I’d felt in such a long time. The room was still warm from the heat of the fire, the smoky burning-log scent filling the air. Cowboy’s sleepy breaths played on the back of my neck.

  I was almost asleep when I felt someone in front of me. I went to open my eyes, but a soft voice shushed me back down. A finger ran over my cheek, back and forth, in a hypnotizing motion. Then, warm breath fluttered over my cheek, and a soft mouth pressed a single kiss to my lips. My breath held, my body still, as the mouth moved to my ear and gently wh
ispered, “Sleep, cher. Sleep.”

  I opened my eyes to see a tattooed back retreating toward the hallway. Tattoos decorating rich, beautiful brown skin . . .

  Hush, I thought, my heavy eyes forcing me under with the pull of sleep. Hush. I sighed . . . and drifted off with a smile on my lips and a new sense of hope in my heart.

  Chapter Six

  Hush

  I rode the Harley around the perimeter one last time, chasing the rising sun across the horizon as my eyes ran over every inch of the land. I saw nothing out of the ordinary. I knew I should go back to the house.

  But I couldn’t.

  I pulled the Harley to a stop in the middle of the field. I sat back in the seat, watching the sun cresting over the far hills, and took a deep breath. The warming wind blew across my face.

  I was dog tired. But I hadn’t been able to sleep.

  There wasn’t a chance I was gonna catch any z’s after last night. I closed my eyes and heard Sia’s voice . . . after I came back from Mexico . . . I’ve never trusted anyone else. I . . . I haven’t let anyone get close . . . Until you . . . and Hush, if he would just let me.

  A groan stuck in my throat . . . and Hush, if he would just let me . . .

  I ran my hand down my face and tipped my head back to the lightening sky. “I would if I could, cher,” I said aloud, to nobody and everybody at the same time. Reaching into my cut, I removed the pills and took them like I did every day. Then I focused on my hands. The brown skin looked back at me. Not black, and not white. But a mix.

  My fucking chest tightened, a damn iron lung making it impossible to breathe as I heard Cowboy’s words too . . . You’re both so fucking broken . . . From the minute we met you, I could see in you what I see in him every day . . . loneliness . . . Two people who are lost, two people who don’t know how the fuck to escape the darkness they’re living in.

  Sia had been crying, his words hitting home. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to get my best friend’s fucking words from my head. I knew he worried about me. I knew he cared. Fuck, he was the only one who did.