The sensation became too much. He kissed her once more, groaning into her mouth as his last thrust delved deepest. Then he exploded, spilling every ounce of his pleasure inside of her.
They sat there for the longest time, not moving, not speaking, just breathing. Though their breaths were quick and shallow, hers mimicked the pattern of his. He reveled in the thought and held her close.
Once their breathing slowed, he pulled her to the middle of the bed, waiting for her to settle beside him. When she did, he drew her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. He wanted to tell her how amazing she was, but the thrum of her energy said it didn’t matter. She was happy, safe, and in his arms. That said more than any words they could have spoken.
As he continued to focus on their bond, a soft, white light illuminated the room. It was her phone. A vibration resonated across the nightstand from its direction. Grunting his displeasure at the sound, he hated the fact that someone decided to interrupt their alone time. More than that, he hated that Heaven pulled away from him and grabbed her phone.
“Who is it?”
His question hung between them as she swiped the screen and began reading the message. The curiosity forming within him grew worse when her energy pulsed with confusion.
“What is he talking about?”
“Who?”
“Layne,” she whispered, turning her eyes back to him. “I thought you said he was okay with us leaving. I thought you said you talked to him.” She flipped her phone around, pushing it toward his face so that he could read the text.
Where are you? I can’t believe you up and left without telling me. Is this because of what I said the other night? About needing space? I thought… Never mind. It doesn’t matter.
Gazing at the space between them, he stroked a circle on the sheet before closing his eyes. This couldn’t be happening right now, not this soon after the love they made. He’d planned to tell her tomorrow, but as usual, Layne wanted to beat him to the punch.
“Yeah, about that…” God, he hated doing this. “I told him we were leaving, but I neglected to say it in person.”
“What do you mean?”
He opened his eyes again, hating the way her lips started to pucker. He knew he’d gone about this the wrong way. Explaining why wouldn’t make a difference when all she wanted was an answer. She deserved an answer, even if it meant she’d be pissed with him.
“I wrote him a note and left it on his door.”
“Why?”
Had he not been staring at her, he wouldn’t have realized she’d spoken. Her voice cracked when she asked the question. It made his cheeks burn hot with guilt, especially knowing his reason behind the whole thing.
“Because,” he whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I knew he wouldn’t let you out of his sight.”
CHAPTER 17
The insistent thump in Layne’s chest reminded him that he still had a heart, even if it felt shattered. He balanced himself on the edge of the couch, staring at the note in his hand. How could something so simple create havoc in his soul, havoc that sent him to his knees an hour after reading it?
Gripping the bottle in front of him, he brought it to his mouth while clenching the paper in his other hand. The sharp scent of aged oak burned his nose. He eyed the black label, grateful to have discovered the Jack Daniels bottle in Nicholas’s liquor cabinet. There was nothing more mind numbing than good ol’ Tennessee whiskey. Hopefully it would numb more than that.
He pressed the opening to his lips, noting the cap lying on the floor, not far from the front door. It rolled to that particular spot not long after he chucked it through the air, bouncing it off the wall. A harsh burn began at the back of his throat as the liquid rushed down in one, big gulp. If he kept this up, he’d pass out in an hour.
The bottle clanked against the coffee table when he slammed it back down. He gazed at the note, rescanning each word his friend had written. He’d recognize Dylan’s handwriting anywhere, though it was hard to make out now. No matter how many times he’d crumpled the paper in anger or threw it onto the floor, he kept picking it back up, reading over it again.
Why had Heaven chosen to go along with this? Yeah, he told her that he needed space for a few days. He didn’t think she’d take it so literally. This reeked of Dylan’s influence. Somehow, he’d convinced her to leave with him, but knowing she did it so easily was like a punch in the gut.
He couldn’t lay all the blame on her, not after their last few conversations. He’d done everything he could to put distance between them, everything to make her think he didn’t care. Would she still have left if she knew how this would affect him? It left a hole, not only in his heart, but in his soul as well. Did she sense his heartache once he’d found the note? He knew she could sense Dylan’s energy when he was away, but she’d never mentioned if she could do the same with him.
The thought made his gut churn. He didn’t want her to know that he felt like this, like he couldn’t breathe, or speak, or feel. Everything numbed except his heart. It beat with pain like he’d never known.
His phone vibrated against the cushion, reminding him of the last text that came in, the one he still hadn’t read. He grabbed it up, jerking it to his chest as he tapped the screen. Heaven’s name appeared at the top, followed by her message.
We’re in Cleveland until Sunday. I thought you knew. I’m sorry…
So he had been right. She didn’t leave him on purpose. This was Dylan’s doing. Of course it was. He didn’t need special abilities to know that.
Regardless of what Delia thought, Dylan would never accept his role in Heaven’s life. Well, tough shit. Delia said he belonged, as did Heaven’s parents. More importantly, Heaven believed he did. As long as she wanted him around, he’d be there. Hell, even if she didn’t, he’d still be there. It was his duty to her. She was his ward, his Seeker, the most powerful Seeker ever created, and he was created for her.
Dylan could eat shit.
Pushing himself up, he took one last gulp of whiskey, wincing at the burn. He crumpled the note, shoved it into his back pocket, and then moved for the door. Delia should still be awake. He’d go to the main house, find her, and tell her what happened. Maybe she knew of some way to help him through this. It was worth a shot. If nothing else, she could give him a stern lecture and distract his thoughts.
He walked outside the door, taking the steps by twos until his boots hit the ground with a thud. The grass beneath him crackled and snapped every so many feet. Leftover leaves remained in sporadic brown patches over the grounds. Their decayed scent lingered in the air, soon to be replaced by the sweet smells of spring.
Caught up in his surroundings, he’d barely noticed the main house in the distance. A few lights on the bottom floor remained on, a sure sign that someone was still awake.
He made it to the edge of the garage, hastening his steps. The thought of who was inside the apartment above made his jaw clench. He wanted to take his frustrations out on her, but he had never hit a woman and he didn’t plan on developing the habit. Ever. Faith would get what she had coming to her in good time. Karma never missed anyone. He knew that for a fact.
As if he jinxed himself with thoughts of his ex, the familiar scent of lavender flooded his nose. His eyes watered, his throat itched, and if he hadn’t grabbed his nose, he probably would have sneezed. He’d never been allergic to anything, especially lavender. His mother had used it on him and around him all of his life. Even when he and Faith were together, the smell never bothered him. Why now?
Maybe it wasn’t the lavender he was allergic to. Maybe, instead, he was allergic to bullshit, like the type his ex constantly spewed. Guess he’d find out for sure in a moment. Faith had stepped out of the house, lugging something on her side as she headed his way.
Sweet mother of God—this was not going to be good. The hate in his heart began to swell. It consumed him, ripping the positive things from his mind, things like laughter and love, duty and loyalty, f
riendship and passion, everything that reminded him of Heaven.
If it hadn’t been for the jade eyes glaring at him from head to toe, he would have sworn he’d made a mistake. The woman slowing a few feet away looked nothing like his ex. Her bony structure and sunken cheeks were the opposite of the woman who shared his bed for a few months.
Faith had a tiny waist, plenty of curves, and breasts so full he could barely fit one in his hand. Now that he thought about it, they looked kind of fake. They were nothing like Heaven’s. Hers were full but not overly. They’d fit perfectly in his hand, or in his mouth for that matter.
He gave himself a mental kick in the ass, still questioning whether the green-eyed diva was his ex or her long-lost, severely ill cousin. She kept staring at him, holding a basket of laundry in front of her. Then she opened her mouth and spoke.
“Well, if it isn’t the great Layne Perry. You out slumming, or are you looking for my sister? Not that there’s much of a difference.”
Yep. It was Faith. Had the sarcasm in her voice not given her away, the surge of hate burning his veins would have. “The only time I ever went slumming was last spring, when I hooked up with this psychotic chick at my friend’s wedding. She wasn’t the kind of girl I’d take home to meet my mom, but she gave a decent blowjob.”
“Yeah? Well, at least she knew how to suck dick. That’s better than a one pump chump who doesn’t know a twat from an asshole.”
Stifling a laugh, he glanced down at the driveway, kicking a rock from his path. “Trust me, Faith. I know the difference.” He raised his eyes to hers. “It’s just that your ass was tighter.”
She balanced a basket in front of her, snorting at his response. “At least you didn’t deny being a one pump.”
“Says the woman who begged me to stop in the middle of sex just so she could get feeling back in her legs.” He matched her word for word on her sarcasm, quite pleased that he could still say things that pissed her off. She was doing a good job of holding back her anger, but he could see it brewing underneath. Her brows drew, her lips thinned, and then she did her little eye roll.
“Men and their egos. You guys can’t see past them to know when a woman is lying to you.”
“Like men care? Don’t confuse us with women, Faith. According to you, we’re all insensitive assholes. The thing is, I would have cared about your lies, if I wanted to marry you. Turns out that you were just a cheap fuck that filled my bed whenever I needed to get a nut.”
For an instant, he swore he saw regret play through her eyes, but the hate she felt for him returned. “Go to hell, Layne.”
She backed away, about to turn and head up the steps, but he wasn’t finished speaking with her. He had to know one thing before he left her alone, one thing that had his gut clenching every time his eyes swept over her.
“Wait,” he said, shifting his weight to his other foot as she turned back around. “There’s something I need to ask you.”
“What?” She gripped the basket with such force her knuckles began to whiten. How would she react when he asked her his question?
“I, um… I was just wondering something. Should I go get tested?”
It took her a moment to realize it was a dig, but her pursed lips and narrowed eyes made it worth the wait. “Excuse me?” One slow but fluid turn had her facing him with her back to the stairs. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but—”
“You know exactly what I’m implying. You’re extremely thin, Faith. Either you’re starving yourself or your sick, really sick. So I have to know if I need to get tested. Tell me what’s wrong so the doctor can start treatment right away.”
“I’m. Not. Sick.” The words came out in a growl. If she were a feral animal, she would have pounced on him. The way she raised her shoulders and ground her teeth was proof she wanted to.
He didn’t care. It wasn’t just his life she was screwing with. It was Heaven’s too, which affected all of mankind. She was screwing with everyone’s life. “I have responsibilities now. Things you wouldn’t understand since you run from anything that makes you behave like an adult. Don’t screw with me, Faith. Answer my question.”
“As if your track record is any better,” she snorted, sizing him up with her eyes. “In fact, if you do get tested, be sure to let me know. You probably gave something to me.”
Instinct had him walking toward the stairs, where she lingered on the bottom step, spewing her vile atrocities. It took all of his restraint to keep from hurting her. “That’s where we’re different, Faith. If I’m going to whore around, I use protection. I slipped up one time with you. One time. If I get something because of it, it will be your fault.”
He glared at her for a few more seconds then stepped back from the stairs. There was no point in asking her again. He’d wait until the weekend was over and slip into town to find the nearest clinic.
“You’re the biggest prick that ever walked the face of the earth.”
Her voice grated his nerves, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing. He cocked a brow, putting a smug grin on his face. “Are you talking to me or my dick?”
Good thing he had quick reflexes, or maybe he just knew her well enough. Either way, he’d managed to step back when she swung her fist at him. Losing her balance, she stumbled forward. He tried to catch her before she fell, but he wasn’t fast enough. The basket came crashing to the ground, along with her. Her arm straightened just in time to keep her from slapping the concrete with her face.
Part of him wanted to laugh, hard and loud. The old him wouldn’t have thought twice, but he wasn’t the same man he used to be. Heaven had changed him. He still wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not, but it was a fact, nonetheless. Had she been standing beside him, she would have offered her sister a hand. He should do the same, no matter how much he wanted to turn his back to her and walk away. Thanks to Heaven, he’d not only developed a conscience, he’d developed a heart.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she grumbled, bracing on all fours. He offered her his hand but she knocked it away. “Leave me alone.”
“No,” he mumbled. “If Heaven were here, she’d help your sorry ass off the ground.”
“You’re not my sister, Layne, and you’re sure as hell not your best friend. Dylan is thoughtful and kind. He cares about people. That’s why my sister’s in love with him, not you.”
He ignored her dig, focusing on the basket in front of her instead. “At least let me help you with this.”
His fingers had enough time to curl around the plastic when she reached over and jerked it toward herself. “I don’t need your help.”
“Yes, you do,” he replied, pulling the basket toward him again. “Why do you always have to be a bitch?”
A swooshing sound resonated from the basket when she slid it across the concrete once more. This time, she started to stand while holding it close. “I’m not a bitch. I’m a girl who doesn’t take shit from anyone, including you. Why don’t you act like less of a prick before you start calling people names and making accusations?”
“And why don’t you act like you have a heart when someone tries to help you?”
He shoved his fingers through the intricate holes on the side of the basket, pulling it back toward himself. This was just a repeat of a similar argument they had the day he discovered she was pregnant, or had been pregnant. They’d been fighting over the box he’d tried to help her with, much like they were now. At least he didn’t have to worry about the bottom falling out of the basket. If she had any hidden pregnancy tests, it wouldn’t be his problem anymore.
Faith shrieked at him, jerking the basket once more, but he expected it and tugged at the same time. Much to his surprise, the plastic did break. Snapping filled the air. A second later, Faith stumbled backwards.
“Fuck.” The word rushed from his mouth as he tried to catch her before she fell. Not that it did any good. Her back slammed against the steps. Damn it. How could he have been s
o careless with his actions? He hadn’t meant to hurt her. What were the odds of the basket breaking?
“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to—” The words caught in his throat when he gazed down at her, noting the tiny mound at her waist. He had to be seeing things. He just had to— “What the fuck? You’re… you’re still…” Every inch of him throbbed with anger and hate. “You’re still fucking pregnant. What the hell is going on?”
Faith wasted no time in getting back on her feet. She started to turn, probably to run, but she didn’t get far. The second he noticed, he advanced on her, shortening the distance between them to a yard. When she was almost in reach, she backed away. Step by cautious step, she moved toward the side of the garage. She’d do anything to get away from him, and he didn’t blame her. He wanted to kill her.
When she was finally close enough, he reached out for her. She jumped away, slamming her back and head into the garage. “Get the hell away from me, you psychotic son-of-a-bitch.”
“I’m psychotic?” he asked, jabbing his finger in his chest. “You’re the one who lied to me about being pregnant. Hell, you lied about the abortion, about the other guy. Do you have a clue what that did to me?” Leaning in closer, he challenged her to do or say something, but she only stared. “No. You don’t have a clue because you’re a heartless bitch.”
“Says the man that’s in love with my sister. You’re pretty heartless yourself.”
Her words shot through him, triggering an explosion of emotions. “I’m not in love with anyone. What I am is pissed. I’ve never wanted to hurt a woman the way I want to hurt you.”
“And that’s why you’re psychotic.”
Their noses practically touched, their eyes widened and glued to the other. The only sound filling his ears were the rapid breaths she kept inhaling and exhaling.
“Is it mine?”
His voice softened. He’d try a different approach with her. Perhaps being calmer would take this conversation in the right direction. Whatever it took to get the truth, he’d do it because he had to know the truth, had to know if the child inside her was his.