Old Fashioned

by Steiner, Kandi

  “You and I?” Mallory whispered. “We are fighters, Sydney. We are warriors. Survivors. You never have to apologize to me, okay? You just have to keep fighting. That is what you owe me — not an apology, but a fight. Because if we don’t fight? Then he wins.”

  I swallowed, and Mallory glanced over my shoulder at the dining room before she forced a smile and pulled me in for a hug.

  “Now, pretend we were talking about baby stuff,” she whispered through that smile, pulling back on a chuckle. “God, thank you. It feels good to talk to someone who’s been through this stuff.”

  “Uh-oh,” Jordan said, grabbing for the whiskey on the counter to refill his glass as he smiled at us. “Baby talk, huh?”

  “The good, the bad, and the very ugly baby talk,” Mallory confirmed, and she winked at me as I tried to school my features.

  When Jordan’s eyes met with mine, I knew I was doing a terrible job.

  I somehow managed to get through the rest of the evening, but when Paige had had her pie and it was halftime on the late game, we took the opportunity to leave — much to her dismay. Jordan could sense that something was off, and I could feel how badly he wanted to touch me, to hold me, to reassure me.

  And I wanted the same.

  I hugged everyone goodbye — getting an extra-long hug from Jordan’s mom — and Jordan promised to be back bright and early in the morning to help with wedding set-up and final preparations. And of course, the guys would be going out for what Noah claimed would be a “tame” bachelor party tomorrow night.

  When we were piled into the car, Jordan and I listened to Paige go on and on about the football games and about every one of Jordan’s brothers and the girls and his mom, too. She talked a lot about Betty, who she wanted to hang out with more, and I smiled and asked questions when appropriate, letting her run the conversation until we pulled into the drive, with Jordan watching me with worry in his eyes the entire way home.

  When we got there, I took Paige upstairs and got her ready for bed. She was already softly snoring by the time I shut out her bedroom light after reading to her for not even ten minutes, and I tiptoed down the stairs, finding Jordan on the couch.

  He stood when he saw me, his brows folding together, mouth in a thin line.

  But I said nothing.

  I just crossed the room and collapsed into his arms, knowing that as much as it would hurt, I had to tell him what I knew about Randy and Mallory, too.

  When he wrapped me in those strong, warm arms of his and kissed my hair, rocking me gently, I struggled against the urge to cry.

  And I prayed he would understand.

  Sydney

  Jordan didn’t speak for the longest time.

  I’d lit a candle — one that smelled like lavender and made me feel slightly better — before launching into what had happened with Mallory in the kitchen. I’d told him about what I’d known about Randy, what I wasn’t sure I’d known, what I’d questioned.

  And I felt ashamed, knowing that Jordan now knew how weak I had been, what I had put up with, what I had let happen to me and my daughter before I’d found a spine and left.

  The candlelight flickered across his face, which was severe, his brows nearly touching in the middle of his forehead and making a wrinkle so deep I wondered if it’d stick forever. I wondered if he was judging me, deciding he didn’t like what I’d uncovered. The only source of comfort I had that that was not the case was that he still rested his giant hand on my leg where I sat next to him.

  After a long while, he swallowed, letting out a long breath. “So… did he…” He frowned even more. “Did he assault her?”

  I shook my head. “No. At least, not that I know of. But he made her uncomfortable. From what I gathered, he basically pulled her into his lap and made some comment about them having sex when she turns eighteen.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Jordan said, and he finally stood, no longer able to sit still with what he’d just learned. He paced back and forth in my living room while I sat on the couch, watching him. “I wonder if Logan knows.”

  “I’m sure he does.”

  “Then I’m surprised Randy is still breathing.”

  I didn’t have anything to say to that.

  He continued pacing, and my heart had stopped beating altogether before I finally reached for his hand, pulling him to a stop. He looked down at me with that same severe look he gave the team when he was pissed.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  At that, his face crumbled, and he collapsed into the couch next to me and immediately pulled me into his chest.

  “What? Of course not,” he said, blowing out a hot breath and shaking his head as he rocked me. I clung to him like he was the only thing holding me to the Earth. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Sydney. This is all on him.”

  “But I didn’t tell anyone,” I pointed out. “I didn’t fight him on it or question him more when my gut knew something was off. I was scared, and he was the police, so I didn’t know where to go… and I just… I feel so awful.”

  I buried my face in his chest as he gently quieted me, holding me tighter.

  “Sydney,” he said after a long while, pulling back until he could look me in the eyes. “Do not feel guilty for his actions. You did not play a role in what he did to Mallory or anyone else. You were a victim, too.”

  I sniffed, still feeling like he was wrong but not wanting to argue it.

  “There were so many things I heard over the years,” I confessed on a whisper, searching his eyes as that foggy memory from the night his father died flittered in like a wisp of smoke. “But nothing that was ever concrete. Nothing that I couldn’t dismiss with just a few questions of whether I was crazy or not, of whether I had really heard what I thought, or if I was being dramatic.”

  Jordan swept my hair from my face. “He knew what he was doing. He knew his power.”

  I swallowed. “The night of Mallory’s grand opening of her art studio last year… do you remember that?”

  He nodded.

  “That was when I knew,” I said on a shaky voice. “We went to it, and Mallory saw him and I saw the look in her eyes and I knew I was right, that he had done her wrong. And then when I came back from the bathroom, I overheard him and one of his officers making a joke about it.” I shook my head, tonguing my cheek. “He said something about how he wished she would have been down for the deal, because judging by her piercings and tattoos, he bet she was a freak in the bedroom.”

  Jordan’s jaw clenched shut, and he looked away from me briefly, as if he needed to look at something else to calm himself and keep from shooting off that couch and flying across town to confront Randy right now.

  “I told him I wanted a divorce the next day,” I said. “Not to his face. I didn’t stay, because I knew he wouldn’t let me go if I did. I got a lawyer, made sure everything was on paper just in case anything happened, you know? And I wrote him a letter and got on a plane with Paige to go see my parents and my sister for Christmas.” I shook my head. “My dad called Randy, and I don’t know what was said, but honestly, Jordan, I think the only reason he signed the papers and granted the divorce was because I agreed to stay in town, to not move Paige away, and he knew…” I sniffed. “He knew that if I stayed, he’d still have power over me.”

  Jordan softened, pulling me into him again on a sigh and resting his chin on the crown of my head. “He will never hurt you again. I promise.”

  Tears finally broke free at his words, because I knew that he meant them with every fiber of his being. I knew that if it came to it, Jordan Becker would go to war for me, for Paige, for us.

  And I wasn’t sure I deserved it.

  He held me for a long while before I sat up straight again, swiping the tears from my face and letting out a long, slow exhale. “Anyway, enough of this,” I said, forcing a smile. “You wanted to talk about something.”

  “Sydney…”

  “Please,” I said, nearly crying again. “I really don’t wan
t to talk about this anymore.”

  He frowned, but nodded in understanding. “Well, what I had to talk about can wait, too.”

  “No, please, you wanted to talk first, and then I sprung this all on you, and—”

  “Hey,” he said, his knuckles finding my chin. He tilted it up, those blue eyes searching mine while I traced the rim of gold around his iris. “I am always here for you. Okay? Always. You are not a nuisance, and I want to be this person for you.” He swallowed. “I want to be your everything.”

  My chest tightened, a mixture of the most intense longing and desire I’d ever felt swirling in a tornado with all the anxiety and warning sounds my body could release all at once.

  “Jordan…”

  But before I could speak, his lips were on mine, the warm swells both comforting and demanding as he took the words I was going to say and swallowed them whole.

  I pulled back, breathless, fingers trailing down his chest before I grabbed his hand and stood. He followed me down the hall to the guest room, where we could be alone without the possibility of waking Paige since my room was next to hers.

  When I closed the door behind us, the only light came from the horizontal slits in the closed blinds, and they cast streams of white across his face, his chest, his arms, his hands where they reached for me and pulled me in again, the next kiss tender and sure.

  Just like that, we were done talking.

  Jordan

  Something about the way the night settled over both of us in Sydney’s dark guest room was different than any time we’d been alone before.

  The moment that door closed behind us with a quiet snick, the moment her hands reached for me in the dark, and mine reached for her, and our mouths connected, comfortable and instinctively, it sent a charge through me like an electric current. I felt that energy spread like warm oil, slicking up every joint, seeping into every crevice, filling me up whole.

  I cradled her face in my hands, my eyes closed as I tasted her, memorized her, my heart aching from what she’d confessed in the other room. The urge to protect her and keep her safe tore through me in the next moment, and I pulled her into me, crushing her in my embrace as I strengthened the kiss.

  Sydney gasped, and as soon as her mouth opened I was walking her backward, kissing down her neck and over her collarbone until the back of her knees hit the bed.

  “Lie down,” I whispered, and she reached blindly back, hands finding the bed as she sat and stared up at me, her chest heaving.

  Without a word, I reached down for the hem of her sweater, peeling it up and over her head as she lifted her arms to let me. Then I kissed her, pushing her back until she was flat on the bed, and I kissed down, down — over the swells of her breasts, the muscles of her abdomen, the smooth skin above the band of her leggings.

  My fingers dipped beneath that band, and Sydney lifted her hips, helping me peel them down her thighs and calves until they rested at her ankles. I kept my eyes on hers as I pulled them the rest of the way off, letting them fall to the floor.

  She hadn’t been wearing anything beneath them.

  The urge to groan in approval ripped through me, but I suppressed it, because though she was nearly naked now and my erection was so strong it pitched a tent in my pants, there was something more to this moment than lust, something more than my hands on her thighs spreading her legs as I kissed a trail from her ankle to the sweet spot at the apex of them.

  I couldn’t take away what she’d been through. I couldn’t go back in time and steal her away from Randy before he had the chance to make her his, before he took that chance and used it to fuck her up instead of cherish her. I couldn’t unhurt her.

  But I could show her what she meant to me.

  My heart thumped hard in my chest — once, twice — reminding me that I had things I needed to tell her, questions I needed to ask, answers I had to have. But I quieted it with a soft kiss on her clit, one that elicited a gasp from her lips and an arch of her back off the bed.

  It could wait.

  Knowing what we were and what we weren’t, hearing her claim me, explaining that I needed to claim her, that I needed more, that I needed all of her — it could all wait.

  Tonight, I would show her what I felt.

  And when the time was right, I’d tell her, too.

  My hands grabbed at the creases where her hips met her thighs, and I tugged her down until her ass was half off the bed, the weight of her in my hands as I paid homage to her pussy. I ran my tongue flat and hot from bottom to top before sucking her bud between my teeth, gently sucking, just enough to make her squirm before I released it again.

  Sydney’s hands found my hair, and I buried my face more, letting her guide me where she wanted me. I listened to the words she wasn’t saying, to the way her hands tightened in my hair or loosened, to the way she moaned or stayed silent. My tongue was the student, eager and devoted, and her body language taught all it needed to know.

  She was panting heavily and squirming so much she’d nearly fallen off the bed when I adjusted her, making sure she was secure before I removed one hand from where I held her and tickled her entrance with my fingertips. She groaned, leaning up on her elbows, her eyes hooded from where she watched me.

  I kept my eyes on hers, my tongue flicking her clit, and in one thrust, I pushed two fingers deep inside her.

  She arched in a mixture of pleasure and pain, flying back down on the bed and gripping the sheets. She twisted them wildly as I curved my fingers inside her, holding back the screams I knew she wanted to let loose so we didn’t wake Paige. Her hand pressing the back of my head more into her and her legs shaking around it told me what her screams couldn’t, and I kept pace, flicking and flexing and pushing in and out until her entire body erupted into an earthquake of trembles, her breaths short and loud, climax ripping through her.

  She collapsed in a heap on the bed as I slowly withdrew my fingers, kissing my way up her body until I found her mouth. Sydney held my lips to hers, the kiss hard and desperate and appreciative, and then she bit my lower lip as I stifled a moan.

  “Take these off,” she whispered, tugging on my athletic pants, and I stood, eagerly answering her plea.

  I peeled my long-sleeve shirt over my head, making quick work of my pants and briefs next, all while keeping my gaze locked on hers. Sydney tugged her sports bra over her head, too, and then crawled back until her head was on the pillows, and we both sighed in relief when I was on top of her, sliding between her legs, our bodies hot and slick where they met.

  I was already lined up at her entrance, and all it would take was a flex of my hips to bury myself inside her. But we both paused, our breaths heavy and loud as Sydney ran her fingers back through my hair, and I held my weight on my elbows, balancing over her, our eyes searching each other’s.

  Everything that existed in the fundamental part of who I was screamed for me to tell her I loved her.

  It echoed like my body was a chamber, like if each cell yelled loud enough, Sydney would hear it whether the actual words came or not.

  And maybe she did.

  Maybe she understood, as her brows bent together, and her lips parted, and she lifted her head off those pillows enough to connect her mouth to mine. Maybe she knew it all along, and that kiss was quieting me, as if to tell me I didn’t need to speak it out loud at all.

  Maybe she felt it, too, as her thighs tightened around me, and she pressed her forehead to mine, our breaths hot and heavy where they danced between our lips. Maybe our bodies and souls were having entire conversations without a single whisper as her heels gently dug into the back of my thighs, urging me on, begging me to push inside her.

  And when I did, the rubber band of energy around us warped, stretching to its max before it snapped back with a pop that had us both letting out a shaky, longing sigh.

  Sydney’s hands pulled and gripped, her nails scratching and digging, as if she couldn’t get me close enough, like any centimeter of distance was too much. And I w
orked between her legs, pulsing, in and out, my lips on her neck, her breasts, her chin and jaw before we were kissing again, the pressure crushing.

  I came with my mouth fastened to hers, and she rolled her body in time with mine, taking my release inside her without either of us slowing. Even when I was spent, when every drop was spilled and my body ached to collapse, I continued, slowing my pace but staying inside her with our kiss just as demanding as before.

  I love you.

  I want you.

  Be with me.

  Those words were never spoken, but they rang loudly through that room as if the walls had come alive long enough to say them for us.

  We were slick, fastened together from lips to chest to hips, and still, I moved, flexing in and out of her until I started to get hard again, and Sydney rolled me onto my back. She straddled me with her hands on my chest, and took control, easing us into round two before round one had even fully ended.

  Until the night turned to morning and I had to sneak out of her house, we made love.

  And for the first time in my life, I understood the meaning of that phrase.

  Jordan

  “I cannot believe this is what you wanted to do for your bachelor party,” Logan said the next night, looking around the old treehouse our father built when we were kids. It was out in the middle of nowhere, in an oak tree by the creek. Each corner of it was decorated differently, reflecting what our interests were at those ages, and we sat in our respected areas. “I mean, it’s your last night as a free man. Shouldn’t we have taken you to Nashville? Hit up some live music bars and some strip clubs?”

  Mikey stopped where he’d been strumming on his guitar, cutting out the sound with a thump of his hand on the shell. His corner of the treehouse had been filled with music, even though he was only around six when Dad built it. Even then, we all knew Mikey would be a musician.

  “To be fair, I’m still underage. I’d bet it’s my fault we aren’t out at the clubs.”

  “Nah,” Noah said, clapping our youngest brother on his shoulder before he kicked back on his bean bag again. He rested his hands behind his head, looking up at the makeshift constellations Dad had made him on the ceiling. His area was filled with maps and sailboats, a reflection of his dream at the time to sail around the world.