Then he whispered, “You feel me, Branch?”
“I feel you, Gerbil.”
“Tavis.”
“Come again?”
“Tavis Warren.”
That name, and what lay behind it, settled way down deep in his soul.
Regardless.
“Are you serious?” Branch asked and Gerbil’s chest puffed up.
“It’s a shit-hot name.”
Branch shook his head, turning from the river, heading back to their packs, muttering, “You suck at making up names.”
Gerbil followed him, asking, “What’s wrong with Tavis Warren?”
“We only got a six-kilometer walk and a fifteen-hundred-foot ascent for me to say all the things wrong with it and that’s not near enough time,” Branch gave him shit.
“A pain in my ass,” Gerbil muttered. “For years, that’s all you’ve been, a pain in my ass.”
Branch allowed himself a small grin as he hitched up his pack.
Although they’d already done it, he again made sure the fire was out while Gerbil pulled on his own pack.
Then, Branch leading, Gerbil following, they headed through one of the most majestic locations on the planet, trekking down the riverbank to the trailhead that would take them to the top so they could have breakfast.
The last mission of Rifle Team.
* * *
That evening, Branch parked at Evangeline’s curb.
After leaving Gerbil at the diner where they’d had breakfast, he’d texted to let her know he was returning and about the time he’d be doing that.
He found it weirdly surprising, angling out of his truck while looking at her house, that even though it had only been days, nothing had changed.
But in those days, it felt like the world had shifted. The colors were different, even the air tasted strange.
He moved up her drive, seeing her girly-assed Fiat under the carport, and heard, “March.”
He looked right and saw Evangeline’s neighbor in her own drive holding a filled trash bag.
The Branch Dillinger who was still John Wright would have pretended he didn’t hear or said a low “Hey,” and kept walking, making his point, trying to be forgettable.
The Branch Dillinger he was with Di, Piz, Benetta, Lex and Rob at peace stopped.
“Sorry?” he asked.
“It’s March. April’s around the corner. Which means May is coming so we better enjoy it as long as we can before Hades rises in Phoenix again,” she said through a huge smile.
“Yeah,” he replied, wondering why everyone in Phoenix always talked about the weather. It wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t sprung on anyone. Hell, he had no clue the origins of the city’s name, but something arising from ashes, which always indicated there’d been fire, it didn’t take a huge leap, so it was actually all-in the fucking name.
“So you’re seeing Evangeline,” she noted.
Branch fought his spine straightening.
No, John did.
But John was at the bottom of the Colorado River.
Which meant Branch relaxed and said, “Yeah.”
“Best neighbor ever,” the woman declared. “She’s so sweet and she always takes care of my cats when I’m away. I come home and I’m never sure if they’re happy to see me or sad that me being home means they won’t be seeing Evangeline. Then again, they’re cats. They’re finicky. And they act like they don’t give a stuff about anything. Still, it’s nice to know when I’m gone someone’s taking good care of them.” She stopped jabbering, took a step toward him and halted before announcing, “I’m Jane.”
Branch stared at her, history, instinct and heart at war inside him, before he forced out, “Branch.”
Her huge smile got even bigger.
“What a neat name!” she cried.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“I have a farewell party every Memorial Day,” she proclaimed for reasons unknown. Then she made them known. “You know, farewell to being able to be outside without melting to goo. Evangeline comes every year. I hope you come with her this year.”
He did nothing but jerk up his chin to that.
“Great!” she exclaimed like he’d given her an “Of course I’ll be there, and we’ll be announcing our engagement then too.”
Before she could say more, they both heard Evangeline’s door open and Branch looked that way to see her racing out wearing a pair of little shorts, a little tee and no shoes.
She kept coming his way and he only realized she wasn’t going to stop when she did just that, but only to launch herself into his arms, her legs curling around his hips, her arms curving around his neck, the fingers of one hand going into his hair to pull his head down to her.
And she was making out with him.
Audience forgotten, Branch didn’t hesitate to curve his fingers around her ass and participate.
She broke it suddenly, shifting both hands to either side of his head.
“You’re back,” she declared breathlessly, her blue eyes shining, her smile even bigger than her neighbor’s.
And Branch was lost.
“Yup.”
She squeezed him with her legs.
And Branch was done.
He started walking her to her kitchen door.
Her attention shifted over his shoulder.
“Uh … hey, Jane,” she called.
“Hey, sweetie. Glad your man’s home,” the neighbor called back.
“Me too!” Evangeline cried, not hiding her excitement.
Yep.
Done.
“Babe,” he growled and her gaze went from over his shoulder to him.
The instant it did, he took her mouth and he kept taking it even after he got her through the door, kicked it closed with his boot and planted her ass on her kitchen counter.
She immediately pressed her crotch into his growing erection and he grunted into her mouth.
Feeling her sweet pussy grind into his dick … he wasn’t done before.
It was then he was done.
Burying a hand in her hair, using it to pull her back over his arm, he went at her harder, taking more.
She gave it, squirming against him, and her hands went into his tee, pulling it up.
Branch lifted his arms and only at the last minute did he disengage his mouth for her to tug the shirt over his head.
He took over, yanking it free and tossing it aside before he hauled her to him again, slamming his mouth down on hers, his hands going up her tee, hitting hot, soft skin, and he ground his groin against her.
“Baby,” she breathed against his lips and he felt her fingers leave his hips and she was shifting a different way, her hands at her fly.
“Yeah,” he growled.
Missing her, hungry for her, seeing her just as hungry for him, he took a step back, his hands going to his belt.
They kept eye contact as she swayed cheek to cheek, yanking her shorts and panties down, every movement making his cock harder.
She kicked them off as Branch tore his shorts and jeans down his hips to his thighs, his dick jumping free.
Her eyes dipped to it, the tip of her pink tongue wet her lip, her eyes dilated, her little hand circled his cock, and she pulled him to her, widening her thighs.
She positioned him, her hand disappeared, and eyes to eyes, lips to lips, he drove into her wet pussy.
She latched onto his hair and whispered, “God, yes, Branch.”
His hands anchored at her hips, holding her steady for his pounding, Branch pistoned inside her, their escalating breaths colliding, gazes locked.
“Fuck me,” she begged.
He cupped her ass in both hands and took her to the edge of the counter so she could get more and so could he.
Her lids lowered.
“Yes, fuck me, baby.” She pulled his forehead to hers with her hands in his hair, panting against his lips. “Keep fucking me, Branch.”
Her legs around him spasmed, drawing him deeper, her as
s in his hands clenching in an effort to rock into his thrusts, she suddenly gasped and tugged at his hair, her head falling back.
“Yes,” she whispered, her pussy convulsing around his cock, her little body trembling in his arms.
Christ, she was coming.
Christ.
Angie.
He yanked her off the counter, turned, kept his dick buried inside her and went down on a knee, the other one. Falling forward, he took her to her back on the floor and slammed into her.
Damn, she was beautiful when she came, every way he could see it.
And feel it.
“My God. Oh my God. God,” she pushed out.
Her nails scored down his back, he arched against the pain that traveled his spine from scalp to ass to balls to dick and groaned as he ground into her, shooting deep.
Still experiencing aftershocks, thrusting faintly inside her through them, Branch shoved his face in her neck.
She wrapped her arm around his back, her other hand starting to stroke his hair.
Angie waited for him to calm before he felt her turn her head and whisper, “Welcome home, honey.”
He lifted his head and looked down at her soft face and eyes, which had a look that was warring between sated and happy.
“Dinner’s ready,” she announced.
Christ.
Angie.
The chuckle that rumbled out of his gut beat gently into her and her body, soft, warm, relaxed and loose, melted under him.
“You hungry?” she asked, her beautiful voice low, husky, sweet.
“Not anymore. But I could eat.”
She grinned up at him.
“We, uh … might have just given Jane a show,” she shared before she warned, “as I told you, she’s nosy and the curtains are open over the window at the kitchen door.”
“Angle of your carport, babe, and that bougainvillea between your two houses that’s so fuckin’ huge it’s got to have been there since the dawn of time, she’d have to be standing at the bumper of your Fiat to see in your kitchen door.”
“As I told you,” she said again, “she’s nosy.”
He dipped his face closer and whispered, “She’s that nosy, and her man left her, then hope she enjoyed the show.”
Her grin got bigger. “Fortunately I was part of the show so I know I enjoyed it but can’t imagine just watching it wasn’t almost as hot.”
“Definitely hotter being part of it,” he grunted.
“I agree.”
“You gonna stop being cute long enough to feed me?” he asked.
She tipped her head to the side. “Can I be cute while I feed you?”
In Branch’s experience, she couldn’t not be cute.
“Sure,” he allowed.
“Then get out of me, big boy. I need to clean up and feed my guy.”
He touched his mouth to hers before he slid out and started to move to bring them both up to their feet.
He stopped when she held on in a way he couldn’t ignore and he looked back to her face.
“I mean it, Branch. Welcome home,” she said softly.
He’d never had a welcome home. Not in his life.
Fuck, he’d never even had a home, not since Tara.
And Evangeline had earned it. She deserved it.
And fuck it all, so did he.
So he whispered in reply, “Good to be home, baby.”
She gave him another smile.
Branch took it in before he pulled them both up to their feet, held her until she was steady, and only then did he let her go so he could yank up his jeans and she could head to her shorts and panties. He reached for his shirt as she nabbed them, separating them, sliding her panties up her legs and following them with her shorts while he tugged on his tee.
She was still zipping her fly when her head turned to him.
“Be right back.”
He nodded and watched her walk out of the kitchen.
Branch kept his eyes to where she’d disappeared.
But she’d be right back.
And he’d be right there.
I hope you come with her this year.
The words sounded in his head as Branch smelled garlic.
He drew in the smell of Evangeline’s cooking and when he did he drew it in deep.
Then he moved, topping off the wine in the glass she’d left sitting by the stove.
And he grabbed a beer.
He was wedging off the cap when, as always when she promised something, his Angie came back.
twenty-four
Soft Against Hard
EVANGELINE
The next morning, Evangeline woke before Branch.
She didn’t move.
She lay in his arms in the early morning dawn coming through her sun lights and studied his handsome face, the hard lines still there, even in sleep.
She wanted to touch him, to make some effort to smooth them away, especially now, after the little she knew of what put them there, just knowing that little was too much for him to carry, but she didn’t.
In the short time she’d had since Cam had left and Branch had returned, she’d thought of practically nothing except how to find a way to break through with Branch Dillinger. She’d spent a ton of time on the computer learning about PTSD and survivor’s guilt (another form of PTSD) and what family members could do to help.
The answer to that question was frustratingly what it was in all things like this: not much. Understand the conditions so you can understand your loved one’s behavior. Listen actively. Communicate clearly. Be positive. And encourage your loved one to do the things that could help him or her to get some relief.
A symptom of PTSD was withdrawal, and Branch had that in spades, so urging him to spend time with people he cared about was a way to help. That meant she’d decided to try not to make it too obvious when she encouraged him to spend more time with Olly and Barclay, even Aryas. Help him to see his place in this world, or simply the fact he still had one, and there were those around him who cared about him.
She wished she could help bring Cam more fully into his life, not only for Branch but also for Cam, but for obvious reasons (since Cam had made her take a vow of silence about his visit), she couldn’t.
Or at least, not yet.
But she hoped one day she’d have that opportunity.
Exercise was important too and Evangeline figured she had that down, in the way she could with the physicality of their relationship.
She knew it couldn’t only be that, though. She had to find a way to make that a part of their lives, but Branch had used his sexuality as a way to escape the garbage infesting his head. Although she could make that safer, more intimate, more loving, more a part of being in a healthy relationship, she had to find other ways to accomplish that too.
But she also knew Branch took care of his body. He’d never mentioned going to the gym but there was no way he was that fit without making an effort to stay that fit. He just didn’t, as with a great many other things, share how he went about doing that.
So she might ask and she might see if there was something they could do together that he’d be comfortable with. Taking hikes in remote places in the mountains. Using some of her vacation fund to buy some fitness equipment so her playroom studio could multitask in offering two ways where she could help Branch clear his head.
The only other way she could come up with was that she knew a knife could slash through skin, a bullet could tear through flesh, but the hard, sharp and strong that Branch was, and the woman Evangeline was, the only weapon she had in their war was to combat all that hard and sharp with soft.
She had no idea if giving him soft after he’d had so many years of hard would take him where he needed to be. He might see her soft, mistake it and think she couldn’t handle the hard.
But, first, he’d had enough hard times. So she was not going to go at him that way.
And second, if she could take him over that edge, she needed to make sure she’d c
reated a soft, safe place for him to land.
That was her mission.
And she could not fail.
Determined to succeed, she slid a hand up the skin of his side and watched his dark, curly eyelashes flutter before his eyes opened and he gave her the warmth of his ice.
She wondered if he knew how beautiful he was.
She wondered, even if he knew, if he’d care.
Probably the latter.
But overwhelmed with loving having that right there, that close, back in her bed after he’d been away, and all that loomed ahead for her in keeping it right there, Evangeline ducked her face into his throat.
“Morning,” she whispered.
His arms tightened around her and he bent his neck, forcing her temple to slide along the stubble at his jaw so he could put his mouth to her ear.
“Mornin’,” he murmured.
She pressed closer.
His hands started roaming.
She pressed even closer.
“You gotta get to work?” he asked.
“I cleared my schedule today.”
His hands stopped roaming. “Sorry?”
She tipped her head back and he lifted his so she could catch his gaze.
“You texted to say you were coming home. So I cleared my schedule today so I could spend it with you.”
His eyes warmed, his arms gathered her closer and she felt like punching her fist in the air because there it was.
Early indication soft could beat out hard.
“If you have things you need to do, you know, since you’re just getting back, I can putz around while you—” she began.
“Got nothin’ to do, Angie.”
She melted into him and smiled brightly. “Great. Then we’re starting with a big Evange-English breakfast.”
His lips curved up slightly.
Gorgeous.
“An Evange-what?” he asked.
She slid her hands to his chest and pushed him to his back, coming up over him, still smiling in his face. “An Evange-English. Have you ever been to England?”
A guard slammed over his eyes, but she gave it her all to ignore it, finding it funny in a not ha-ha way, which meant finding it incredibly sad that this was the first, direct, personal question about the everyday experiences of life she’d ever asked him.
He shocked her out of her thoughts by replying, “Yes.”
And that was the first direct, personal question about the everyday experiences of life he’d ever answered.