They both fumbled a little at first, unused to each other. Then something clicked between them, and their eagerness for each other began to supersede any awkwardness. Her body instantly softened and she leaned forward, into his body and melting against him. One hand found his chest, her other reaching up into his hair, running through it before cupping the back of his neck.
And then, as if no time had passed, as if nothing had ever come between them, as if no tragedies had pushed them apart, she kissed him with fervor, touching him with sure hands, and he gripped her tightly, her mouth and body feeling again as natural to him as they once had.
• • •
Gently, I pulled a blanket up over Hawk’s torso, tucking it under his chin. He stirred in his sleep, mumbled something incoherent, and then was quickly snoring again. Looking him over, I grimaced. He had a lot of healing left to do. He couldn’t go more than an hour or two without needing more pain medication, and he was still unable to use the bathroom on his own.
But he was home, he was safe, and he was mine.
Mine.
And this time I was determined not to screw it up.
Chapter Thirteen
Jase didn’t have a fucking clue how he’d ended up here.
Actually, that wasn’t exactly true. He knew exactly how he’d ended up here, he just wasn’t too clear on the why of it.
Or how much time had passed since he’d left the clubhouse, or even what day it was, for that matter.
Just that he was here in Wyoming, in his hometown, parked in front of his childhood home, trying to recall the last time he’d been here. Then it dawned on him… He hadn’t been back home since Chrissy had gone to trial, and he’d been too much of a mess to take care of the girls. After that they’d bounced between Chrissy’s parents and his own for a while, until eventually he got his shit together, at least for the most part.
But by then it was too late, and he’d failed them all.
Ashamed of himself, of the gossip that the shooting had brought down upon his parents in their own town, and not wanting to make it worse for them, he hadn’t been home since.
And now for some reason he was home, and completely at a loss for what to do next.
Did he go to the door? Announce himself? Yeah, that would go over really well.
Hi, Mom and Dad, how was your Christmas? Bet you’re glad to see the son who disappointed the fuck out of you, and ruined your grandchildren’s lives. Hope you don’t mind the stench of vomit and booze all over me.
Or did he drive away? Go back to Montana and leave well enough alone?
Go back to what exactly? The club that pitied him? The woman who had officially said her good-byes?
And goddamn, did that still hurt like a bitch.
Whatever. He needed a drink, a little something to clear his head, and then he’d sort out what the fuck he was going to do. Leaning down, he reached for the bottle of liquor that had fallen off the passenger seat and onto the floor, when a knock on the driver’s side window brought him flying back into an upright position.
Shit.
Walter Brady had aged about as well as everyone had expected. A cowboy through and through, his heavily muscled stature could be attributed to the prolific rodeo rider he once was, but the rotund belly he’d developed over the years was the result of blue-collar factory work after retiring from the rodeo, and his wife’s excellent cooking. The thinning gray hair on his head, the many lines on his face, and his drooping features gave the impression he hadn’t had an easy life, but anyone who knew him would know that while it might have been a struggle at times, it had been a fulfilling one. In his early twenties, at the peak of his career, Walter had married Doreen Davies—a young buckle bunny, a rodeo groupie who’d been smitten with him—and not because of an unplanned pregnancy, but because he’d loved her. After a back injury that ended his rodeo career, together they’d worked hard to make a new life for themselves, and a home they could be proud of.
They’d filled that home with three sons and two daughters, the scent of home-cooked meals, and the sound of laughter. And for the most part, their children had made them proud—they had all eked out an honest living, were all married and filling nearby homes with children of their own.
All but one. Him. Smack dab in the middle of the brood, Jase had failed his parents’ every expectation, and then made up a few of his own just so he could cross a couple more failures off his epic list.
Taking a deep breath, he rolled down the window. “Dad,” he said, nodding at the man.
His father’s frown stayed in place as he looked him over. “You make a habit of parking on people’s lawns?”
Surprised, Jase glanced out the windshield, then to the passenger side window, noticing for the first time that he had in fact missed the driveway entirely. Thankfully, in his hometown, your closest neighbor was at least a couple of miles down the road, and no one but his parents had seen him making a fool of himself. Not that anyone would be surprised by it.
Feeling like teenager caught with his pants down, he sheepishly turned back to face his father. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I, uh, I’m sorry. The snow kinda hid it. I didn’t . . . uh—”
“Scoot on over,” Walter said, interrupting him. “Don’t need you making a worse job of this.”
“Maybe I should go,” he mumbled.
“Go where,” Walter demanded. “You’re drunker then a damn skunk. You ain’t going anywhere until you get some food in you and sleep it off.”
“I don’t want to upset Mama,” he whispered, once again feeling like an errant child.
“Too damn late for that. Who ya think woke me up to come bring you on in?” Reaching through the open window, his father popped the lock, then wrenched the door open and climbed inside, forcing Jase to either move over or get sat upon.
“Jesus, Jason, something die in here?” His father, his facial expression pinched with disgust, glanced around the cab of the truck, coming to a stop on Jase’s lap and the vomit covering his pants.
Jase momentarily thought of covering the stain before his father could see, but what the fuck for? The damage was already done. Not only had he parked on his parents’ front lawn, but his dad had his number. The old man always had. Walter Brady was infamous for calling people out on their bullshit and rubbing it in their faces.
And since Jase knew that better than most, again . . . why the fuck was he here?
Cursing and shaking his head, his father put the truck in gear and began to back up into the street. Once the truck was parked in the driveway, tucked neatly behind his mother’s four-door sedan and beside his father’s truck, he glanced over at his father, unsure of what to do next.
“Best git on inside the damn house before that food she’s cooking you gets cold.” His father gestured impatiently toward the house before pocketing the keys and exiting the truck. When Jase still had yet to do so, wondering again if coming here had been a mistake, his father began banging needlessly on the passenger side window.
“Don’t make me tell you twice, son!”
With a heavy sigh, Jase pushed open the door. Vertigo hit him hard as he tried to step down, and he would have fallen on his ass had his father not caught him around the waist and dragged him back upright. Embarrassed, he cursed and spun out of his father’s grip, sending his fist into the door of the truck. The metal dented under the impact, and too late he realized that this wasn’t his truck, but Cage’s.
“Fuck,” he shouted, clutching his throbbing fist.
“Hey now!” Grabbing his arms, his father yanked him backward, quickly tucking him into his side before he could stumble again. Keeping one arm looped around Jase’s waist, he started them for the door.
“It could be worse, son,” Walter muttered as he guided him up the porch steps. “You just remember that, it could always be worse.”
“It couldn’t,” Jase slurred, suddenly feeling a whole lot drunker than he had only moments ago. “I fucked it all up, everything, everyone. I
made a holy fuckin’ mess.”
“Don’t be blasphemous in front of your mama, now.”
The door opened just as they reached it and standing behind the screen was Jase’s mother. Unlike Walter, Doreen had aged gracefully. Her long gray and white hair was still thick with curls, her delicate features remained intact despite the many wrinkles that had taken up residence over the years. And her eyes, his favorite feature on her kind face, were still as big and as blue as ever.
“The prodigal son returns,” Walter announced flatly.
Her expression was a mixture of happiness and sadness, her eyes filling even as she tried to smile. “Jason,” she said tearfully, pushing open the screen door and holding out her arms.
“He’s covered in his own mess,” Walter grumbled.
“I don’t care,” she snapped. “He’s my son.”
His father had to help him up the remaining step, and then he was in the house, the smells of home enveloping him as his mother’s arms wrapped tightly around him.
Jase couldn’t help it, he broke down, because apparently that was what he did now, he cried. All the damn time.
“Shhh,” she said, hushing him while rubbing his back. “There ain’t nothing wrong that we can’t fix, you hear me? Nothing wrong that we can’t fix.”
He didn’t believe her, but he didn’t mind the comfort either.
Guiding him to the bench in the hall, she helped him sit before sinking to her knees and starting on his boots.
“No, Mama,” he said, bending down only to get swatted away.
“Gimme that vest of yours,” Walter said, already pulling it from his shoulders. “Coat too.”
About to hang both up on the coat rack, his father turned back to him, his brow raised. “Deuce know you’re here?”
Jase shook his head. In fact, no one knew because he had no idea where his cell phone was. Probably in his room at the club where’d he’d last seen it. Lot of good it did him there. He could only imagine Deuce’s face when he tried to call him and found his phone in his room.
“All right then. I’ll be givin’ him a call while your mama does whatever it is she’s doin’.”
“Don’t tell him everything,” Jase called after him.
“I won’t,” he yelled back. “But Deuce is a smart man, pretty sure he’ll be able to fill in the blanks.”
Jase sank back against the bench, feeling another wave of worthlessness slide through him.
“Jason?”
“Hmm?”
“Jason, look at me.”
His energy quickly waning, Jase used every last bit of it to straighten his neck and look at his mother.
“You’re a Brady, aren’t you?”
Oh, fuck him in the ass with a goddamned fork, it was the Brady family speech.
“Yeah, Mama,” he muttered. “I’m a Brady.”
“And what do Bradys do?”
“Beer, barbeque, and rodeo?”
“Jason . . .” His mother’s tone was that of a warning, and Jase fought the urge to roll his eyes.
“Bradys love each other,” she snapped. “Bradys show respect for one another. Bradys work hard, Bradys are honest, and Bradys do their best.”
“Mama,” he said. “I’ve fucked up every single one of those at one point or another, some more than once.”
“Last one,” she continued, ignoring him. “What is it, Jason?”
Swallowing back the quickly forming lump in his throat, he looked off down the hallway to where he could see his father talking on the old rotary phone. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he could only imagine what Deuce was telling him. The thought of them swapping stories made him cringe.
He turned back to his mother. “Bradys forgive each other.”
Smiling, she gave him a quick pat on the knee, finished pulling his boot off, and then went to work on the other.
“The girls won’t forgive me,” he whispered.
His mother didn’t even bother looking up. “They will,” she said. “They’re Bradys. And Jason?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t you dare curse in my house again.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Details,” Eva whispered, leaning across the kitchen counter. “I want them.”
It had been almost two weeks since my arrival in Miles City, and the first time coming back to the clubhouse since Hawk had been brought home. This morning I’d woken up to Tegen and Cage and their usual bickering. Unable to stand one more second of it, I’d quickly showered and dressed, made sure Hawk was comfortable, and made a mad dash to the clubhouse.
At first I was glad to find Eva hanging around and, always happy to spend time with her, I’d offered to make us both lunch. Until she’d begun badgering me for information.
Now, I was just annoyed. Unlike Kami, I wasn’t easily able to divulge the details of my romantic life, not even to the woman I considered my best friend.
Trying desperately not to blush, I feigned interest in the salad I was preparing in order to continue ignoring her.
“Sheesh, Dorothy, you’ve got to give me something. You have that big and sexy man laid up in bed, and I know you’ve kissed and made up. Cage said so.”
“What?” I shrieked, slamming the wooden spoon in my hand down on the counter. “He’s been spying on me?”
Eva jumped upright and did a strange celebratory dance that consisted of her shaking her backside and waving her arms in the air. It looked awkward and downright awful, and I made a mental note to tell her to never ever to do it again.
“I knew it!” she squealed, still dancing. “I knew it!”
“You tricked me!”
She shrugged as she grinned, and I sighed in defeat.
“Fine,” I said shortly. “We’ve . . . kissed. That’s it.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered dramatically. “Dorothy, what am I going to do with you? Who am I going to live vicariously through? Kami isn’t having sex and you’re not either, and my life consists of a cranky toddler, a twelve-year-old who thinks she’s twenty-six, and a husband who takes heart medication.”
“Join the club,” I said and sighed again. “My life usually consists of a seven-year-old who wants to be either a biker or a professional paint gun warrior. But lately it’s been full of my daughter and her husband who fight more than they don’t, and honestly, I don’t know why Tegen doesn’t just get a job at the local paper instead of struggling with the publishing industry. I don’t know how much longer I can take being in the same house with them. Hawk is supposed to be healing, but I don’t know how much healing can happen in a house that volatile.”
My daughter was a feisty one; there was no doubt about it. Belligerent and demonstrative would be putting it mildly. Tegen took opinionated to an entirely new level, and would fight to the death regardless if she was right or wrong. There were times I’d spent with her and Cage that I was truly perplexed by their interaction with each other. Always fighting, either yelling or refusing to speak to each other, yet at the same time they seemed to balance each other. It was an odd dynamic, but one that apparently worked.
I had to give Cage credit, though. Anyone who could put up with Tegen’s regular blowups and her usually crude demeanor either loved her fiercely or was a glutton for punishment. Knowing Cage as well as I did, I had no doubt it was the former. But even knowing this didn’t mean I wanted to bear witness to their unique way of showing their love for each other.
As for Hawk and me, there wasn’t much privacy to do . . . well, to do anything at all.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep, calming breath that did nothing to soothe my strained nerves. I wasn’t used to this . . . this . . . constant disruption anymore. I’d had a quiet, predictable life in San Francisco and now that I was back in Miles City, it was anything but quiet.
“And Hawk,” Eva added. “Your life consists of Hawk now too.”
“When didn’t it?” I quipped.
“Dooooorthy . . .” Eva purposely dragged out m
y name in a childlike whine.
“Evvvvvvaaaaaa . . . ,” I said, mimicking her.
“Dooooorthy . . . ,” she repeated.
“Okay, fine,” I snapped, dropping the spoon. It clattered to the countertop as I glared at her. “The truth is I haven’t had sex since Jase and I were still together, about mid-pregnancy. And to be honest, I’m terrified!”
To my surprise, Eva didn’t seem the least bit shocked by my revelation, instead she looked a little smug, as if she’d expected this answer from me. I didn’t know whether to be hurt that she’d tricked me once again, or elated that she knew me well enough and cared about me to the extent where she’d taken the time to really know me. To see past the walls I’d built around myself.
“You know what you need?” she asked. Placing her elbows down on the counter, Eva rested her chin in her palms and regarded me with a serious expression.
I shook my head. Had I ever known what I needed? Internally, I scoffed. No, I most certainly had not.
“What?” I asked hesitantly, not sure I really wanted to know what Eva had in store for me.
“Wild pussy,” Eva said solemnly.
I arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Wild pussy,” Eva repeated. “You need to just take control. Forget about everything else—the past, your fears—forget about everything but you and Hawk and what you want. But mostly about what you want to do to him,” she finished with a sly grin.
“I’m not wild . . . pussy,” I said, stumbling over the last word and feeling my face heat. Desperately, I tried searching for a word that adequately described exactly what I was and came up empty. “I’m . . . dusty pussy,” I finished with a sigh, feeling ridiculous.
Eva’s face went slack as she gave me an exaggerated look of dismay. “You’re in your forties, Dorothy, not dead! So go home, kick your daughter out of the house, go upstairs, get naked, and fuck your man!”
“He can barely walk!” I hissed.
“He doesn’t need his leg for this!” she hissed back.