“I don’ feel so good,” he mumbled, looking for all his strapping six-foot-one height like a sick little boy battling the flu.
“I imagine not,” she said with quiet sigh, her heart softening despite herself. “Not with a bottle of poison in your gut.”
“Chivas,” he corrected. “Some of the fines’ scotch in the world—aged twelve years.”
“Yes, well your liver just aged twelve years, too, bucko, not to mention your shoes.”
Swaying on his feet, he looked down and emitted a rusty groan, giving her pause when she thought he was going to spew some more. “Noooooo … not my Cole Haans …”
“Yeah, never mind the liver,” she muttered, leaving him to bemoan the fate of his shoes while she rifled through both her purse and the glove compartment for tissues or towels. She came up empty, so she quickly scanned the yards on Bluff Drive, spotting a sprawling bed of giant hostas. Plucking several leaves off the bottom of a plant, she returned to where Sam sagged over the hood of his car, arms braced as if to hold himself up.
Without a word, she squatted to clean off first his shoes and then his slacks the best she could before rising to attend to his shirt.
“Thanks,” he whispered. His voice was hoarse as he took the hosta leaves from her hand to finish the job, his shame evident in how he avoided her gaze.
Against her better judgment, she gave his arm a tender squeeze, then left to hunt for a tissue in her purse again, finding only a sad, crumpled one smeared with lipstick. “Here,” she said in a gentle tone, carefully wiping any excess from his face and shirt before handing him a mint. “Hopefully the worst is over and we can get you home to bed.”
He nodded and tumbled back into the car, deathly quiet while he settled back against the headrest with eyes closed. For all she knew he slept all the way to his townhouse, never uttering a word, and she was glad. He was in no condition for serious conversation right now, and there was a ton of that needed before she’d resume this relationship again. The nausea in her gut took over, exacerbated by the stench of vomit that permeated despite the open windows. She couldn’t afford to marry a man who drank to excess, especially one who’d promised he’d given it up. He’d had dinner with Jack and Chase, so she knew little or no drinking was involved. But he’d mentioned meeting up with some old fraternity brothers after, so they must have twisted his arm. Even so, could she trust a man who could break a promise so easily?
“Ours is a forever love, Shan, I promise …”
The memory of Eric’s words struck hard, echoing in her brain along with something Sam once said.
“Promises are nothing more than a puff of air. But my word is my unbreakable bond, as honest and pure as I can ever hope to be.”
Putting her blinker on to turn into his complex, she chanced a peek at his profile, suddenly realizing he wasn’t asleep at all. Yes, his eyes were closed and his head was back, but his stubbled jaw was far too steeled for a man in repose, clearly indicating he was pretending to be asleep when he wasn’t. Goosebumps pebbled her arms as she pulled into his parking spot, wondering if there was anything else he was pretending about.
“I won’t hurt you, I give you my word,” he’d once told her. A cold chill iced her skin, matching the sleet suddenly slithering her veins.
Had that just been pretense too?
Chapter Forty-Four
A towel wrapped around his waist, Sam stared through bleary eyes, his mind foggier than the mirror despite twenty minutes in a hot shower. Grabbing a washcloth, he wiped the steam away, wishing he could wipe away this night from his memory as effectively.
“She was a home-wrecker, man. Had an affair with one of the top professors, busting up his marriage.”
Fresh fury surged through his veins along with fresh pain. How had he done it again? How had he fallen in love with another Amber?
His shoulders went slack as he leaned against the sink, his breathing as erratic as the thoughts ping-ponging in his brain. He sucked in a shaky breath. No, she wasn’t another Amber, not even close. Amber never would have cleaned him up and driven him home. Nor would she be rattling around in his kitchen right now, making him breakfast, judging from the bacon smell that made him want to puke all over again. He glanced at the now half-empty cup of coffee she’d set on the bathroom counter while he’d been showering around the corner, and he had no doubt whatsoever that Shannon O’Bryen was one of the kindest, most gentle human beings he’d ever met.
But, she wasn’t innocent and pure as he’d supposed. His mouth tamped in a thin line as he put toothpaste on his toothbrush, scouring till his gums were as raw as his heart.
Not by a long shot.
And for some reason that rankled more than anything else. Because he’d thought he found an angel. A pearl among women. When all along she was no better than anyone else. Her purity was nothing more than façade, as surface as all those trappings she often accused him of. Which galled him all the more when he’d taken such great pains to treat her with respect and admiration, cherishing her for the priceless treasure she was.
Because you love her. Not because you thought she was pure.
Moisture burned at the back of his eyes as he sagged over the sink, biceps bulging while he braced stiff arms to the granite surface. He did love her, he knew it deep down in his soul, but his image of her was tarnished, which could very well tarnish their relationship as well. Because right now all he felt was white-hot anger that he’d been duped, sold a bill of goods as tainted as her so-called purity.
A swear word hissed through his teeth as he ripped the towel from his body. He balled it up and hurled it across the room, too inebriated—and too embittered—to even consider forgiving her what she had done. Maybe tomorrow when the booze wasn’t clouding his brain, but not tonight. His jaw hardened as he jerked a fresh T-shirt over his head, teetering precariously while he donned a clean pair of pajama bottoms. No, tonight, the alcohol told him she was no different than the dozens of women he’d brought to his bed, each and every one hoping for a piece of his heart. Well, only one woman possessed it, but she’d wounded it through her deceit, and with the Chivas in his bloodstream as toxic as his thoughts, he intended to make her pay.
Slapping the light switch off, he paused for several seconds with his hand to the wall, dizzier than he’d ever been in his life. But then he’d drank more tonight than he ever had in his life, making his drunk the night of the fundraiser look like a tea party. He waited for the dizziness to subside, then finally stumbled into his darkened bedroom. Hurling the covers and sheets aside, he tumbled into bed and closed his eyes, nausea threatening when the room began to spin. He quickly jerked his eyes open, rolling onto his back with a groan.
“Sam?”
He fought the softening of his heart at the gentle sound of her voice and the accelerated thump of his pulse as she slowly approached. The calming scent of vanilla invaded his senses like a drug when she sat on the edge of the bed, fusing with the alcohol to heighten months and months of pent-up desire. “Are you hungry? I made you an omelet.”
“Yeah, I’m starving,” he whispered, hooking her waist to roll her over his body and pin her to the center of the bed, “but not for food, babe.”
“Sam, stop it!” Shock edged her voice as she tried to squirm out of his arms, but he only held on tighter, silencing her with a kiss that unleashed a groan deep in his throat. “I need you, Shan,” he whispered, voice hoarse as he tried to kiss her again.
“Sam, no!” She pummeled his chest, and his anger suddenly swelled, the thought of her and that professor pulling the pin in his grenade.
“What’s the matter, Shan?” he said, eyes itching hot as acid coated his tone. “You only put out if a guy’s married?”
Her limbs froze, her face as stricken as her body, and in that moment, the pool of pain in her eyes felt like he’d plunged a knife into his own heart instead of in hers.
His rib cage constricted, regret choking his air. “Shan, I’m sorry—”
Crack! She all but unhinged his jaw with the blur of a palm to his cheek, clocking him so hard, he had stars in his eyes.
Before he could even move, she scrambled off the bed to flee, the trail of her broken sobs shattering him like he’d just shattered her. “Shannon, wait, please!”
But she didn’t. He heard the slam of the front door when he tried to follow, too dizzy to make his way down the stairs.
“Dear God, what have I done?” he whispered, crumpling over the banister at the top of the steps.
But he already knew.
He had single-handedly destroyed the truest love he’d ever known.
A groan scraped through his lips as he slowly slumped to the floor with his head in his hands, confirming once and for all what he’d been told all of his life.
He didn’t deserve love at all.
Chapter Forty-Five
Tess stirred from deep slumber, the still of the house not quite right. Mind hazy from sleep, she listened, but all she heard was Ben’s soft snores beside her and the deep bong of the grandfather clock downstairs chiming the hour of five. Glancing out the window, she peered into the night, the predawn sky as dim and dark as her soul suddenly felt. Which made no sense at all because since she’d married Ben, she’d never been happier.
A loud snort escalated Ben’s snores to chainsaw level, and she couldn’t help but smile as she shook her head, giving him a gentle nudge to make him stop. Her smile grew to a grin when he emitted several growls before rolling onto his side, hooking her into the spooning position she so desperately loved. His soft moan in his sleep feathered her ear, and tears immediately pricked at the back of her eyes. “Thank you, God, for the love of this man in my life,” she whispered, never believing her future could hold such joy. Ben shifted against her with another contented moan, and the press of his body reminded her of just one of the many ways that love was manifested, quickly spiking her pulse. Releasing a contented sigh, she closed her eyes to attempt more sleep, but something unknown still stood in the way.
Restless, she carefully tugged from Ben’s hold and padded to the bathroom, slaking her uneasiness with a quick glass of water. She headed toward bed again, sleep calling her back, but when her feet detoured to her bedroom door, she eased it open with the utmost care.
And then she heard it—muffled and barely there—but the sound of weeping all the same, and instantly she was awake, a mother in tune with a child’s pain. Pulse pounding, she tiptoed to the end of the hall where grief seeped beneath Shannon’s door and inching her hand forward, she felt her stomach twist along with the knob. Instantly her rib cage shrank, the sight of Shannon weeping while curled beneath the covers shivering Tess’s soul as much as her daughter’s heaves shivered her bed.
“Shannon?” Tess rushed to lay down beside her, cocooning her in comfort and love like when Shan was small, a tender twin too fragile for life’s injustice. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, M-Mom …” Voice breaking on a loud sob, Shannon turned and clung to her mother, her anguish wracking both of their bodies. “It … h-happened a-again …”
Tess’s blood chilled in her veins. “What happened, darling?” she whispered, her head tucked to Shannon’s while she clutched her with all of her might.
“S-Sam … h-he hurt me …”
“What?” Tess whirled, turning on the nightstand lamp to the dimmest level before holding Shannon at bay, searching her tear-stained face and swollen eyes. “How?”
Shannon sat up with a soggy tissue in hand, heaves quivering her body so hard, Tess was tempted to turn on the heat. “He f-found out the f-full story about Eric b-before I could tell him and he—”
Tess’s body deflated with a silent groan just as Cat’s groggy voice drifted from the open door. “Hey, what’s going—” Her sleepy eyes widened when she saw Shannon’s swollen face. “Shan?” She bolted to the bed and squatted before her, grazing a hand to Shannon’s leg. “Why are you crying?”
“Sam,” Tess said in a terse tone far too hoarse, quickly swallowing her shock that Shannon hadn’t told him everything about her past. Sweeping Shannon’s hair over her shoulder, she handed her the tissue box, noticing for the first time the profusion of crumpled tissues littering the floor and bed. “So, who told him, sweetheart?”
Shannon shook her head, sending more rivulets of tears down her mottled cheeks. “I don’t know, Mom, maybe the fraternity brothers he m-met with last night, but he treated me terrible, m-making me feel so dirty again …”
“What a slime bucket.” Cat’s blue eyes snapped, all sleep apparently forgotten.
Tess laid a hand on Cat’s arm, pretty sure the fire in her daughter’s eyes matched hers to a sizzle. “Cat, would you mind fixing Shan some Sleepytime tea with lots of cream and just a touch of sugar like she prefers? It looks like she hasn’t gotten much sleep, and she’ll need her rest.”
Cat rose. “Sure, Mom, but first I want to hear what that creep did to her.”
Dabbing her eyes, Shannon sniffed, more tears welling. “He came by last night, drunk out of his mind, and I couldn’t let him drive like that, so I drove him home.”
Cat strolled to the window, mouth twisting in a dangerous smile. “Oh, good, his car is still here so I can initial it for him.”
Tess fought the squirm of a smile. “Catherine Marie, as tempting as it may be to key that young man’s car right now, that’s not the response of a Christian woman.”
“Wanna bet?” Shannon blew her nose, her snide remark coaxing a grateful smile to Tess’s mouth.
Cat waltzed back over, hands on her hips. “Just give me the word, Shan, and I’ll put a little sugar in his gas tank along with your tea.”
For once, Tess was thankful for Cat’s irreverent humor, relieved when she spied a ghost of a smile on Shannon’s face. “Actually, Cat, I prefer honey,” she said in a nasal tone, “both in my tea and on his prized pearlized paint job.” She snatched several more tissues from the box, putting them to good use. “And if you have enough to fill the pockets of that expensive jacket he left in his car, that would definitely sweeten the deal.”
A wicked grin slid across Cat’s face. “Oh, you bet. Even if I have to drive all the way to Kroger to get it.”
“So, what happened after you took him home?” Tess asked, anxious to get to the heart of the matter. “And I sure hope you railed on him for driving and drinking.”
“I did.” Shannon shifted to sit against the headboard with the box of Kleenex securely in her lap. Her mouth hitched on one side. “Right before he spewed his dinner and a bottle of scotch on the side of the road, so I cleaned him up with a bunch of leaves.”
“Ooooo, poison ivy, I hope?” Cat arched a brow.
Another sliver of a smile shaded Shannon’s lips. “Unfortunately, no.” A tiny touch of tease glimmered in her eyes instead of tears, giving Tess hope that this situation would not bring her daughter to the brink of despair like before. “But on the bright side,” she said with a tip of her head, “his new shoes, shirt, and car will smell like a sewer for a very long time.”
“Good.” Cat cocked a hip with a stern fold of arms. “That’s a good smell for rats.”
“So, what happened after you got him home?” Tess shimmied back against the headboard, too, thinking she might need a cup of tea as well.
A weary sigh drifted from Shannon’s lips. “I helped him upstairs to take a shower while I fixed him coffee and breakfast.”
Cat groaned, mouth dangling as she stared at her sister in disbelief. “Seriously? You are way too nice of a person, Shan. You sure wouldn’t catch me cooking for any wasted womanizer.” Her smile veered diabolical. “Unless I had ipecac on hand.”
Shannon chewed on her lip, the hint of a guilty smile peeking through. “Don’t think it didn’t enter my mind, but his clothes and car already smelled like a tavern outhouse on a sewage swamp, so I didn’t want his beautiful house to smell like that too.”
“Bleeding heart,” Cat mumbled.
/> The smile dissolved on Shannon’s lips, eyes brimming with tears once again. “And that’s exactly what happened, sis, because he made my heart bleed. When he didn’t come down to eat, I found him upstairs on his bed in the dark, and he …”
Tess’s body went stiffer than the wood against her back. But when a sob broke from Shannon’s lips, she folded her in her arms, soothing with a gentle hand to her hair. “It’s okay, baby, no wound is too deep for God, so go on, sweetheart ...”
Shannon nodded against her shoulder, fingers gripping Tess with a ferocity that revealed the depth of her hurt. “He p-pulled me into his bed, wanting to make out, and when I wouldn’t, he … he … said …”
“Said what?” Cat’s tone was deadly.
Shannon’s hand shook as she grabbed several tissues to blow her nose before slumping against Tess’s shoulder. “He said, ‘What’s the matter, Shan? You only put out if a guy’s married?’”
“I’m gonna kill him …” Cat paced back and forth several times before returning to the window with a perilous glint in her eyes.
Swallowing hard, Tess caressed a hand to Shannon’s cheek. “He … didn’t do anything else … did he, sweetheart?”
A grunt slipped from Shannon’s mouth, so out of character, Tess had to bite back a smile. “Not after I left the imprint of my palm on that pretty-boy face of his.” Her lip began to quiver as she rubbed her hand. “It still hurts, but not as much as his jaw, I hope.”
“Yes!” Cat shot a fist in the air. “So, what happened next?”
Shannon’s shoulders lifted in a pathetic shrug, the threat of more tears brewing in her eyes. “I left,” she whispered, and I’ve been crying ever since.”
Cat slammed a hard-knuckled fist into her palm. “So help me, I’m gonna murder him …”
Lips twitching over Cat’s dramatics, Tess gave her drama-queen daughter a patient smile. “Tea now, darling, homicide later.”
“Oh, right.” She hustled out, turning at the door with a salty smile. “Don’t worry—I’ll bring the tea before I go to Kroger.”