Chapter Twenty

Hurt

Gage

This little woman lying on my chest knows about Garrett and has met both him and Grayson. She’s met my son, my mother, and she’s faced Juliana alone.

I kiss her head again and inhale the scent of her shampoo.

She is rubbing up and down my waist, and it feels damn good to be touched like this. Not nearly as good as her sucking my cock like she couldn’t get enough. Same way I ate her. I damn sure couldn’t get enough. It was good, really fucking good.

She wants me as fucking badly as I want her, and I haven’t felt that way in years. Hell, I’m not sure I have ever felt this way. Felt this much. I thought I did back in school, but needs change, life changes, secrets are revealed, people run, and others get pushed away.

She ran to me.

I’m fucking pissed at myself for not caving into what I wanted—her—and running to her. I think I am, anyway.

I’m fucking confused, but I am damn sure glad she’s here.

“Fuck, I’m glad you came,” I say against her head.

“Me, too.” She yawns.

“Tired?”

I feel her nod against my chest.

“Then sleep.”

She sighs. “I’m trying, but you keep talking.”

As I chuckle silently, she looks up at me, her hand on my chest, her chin resting on it.

“Do you want to talk?”

I shake my head.

“Can I?” she asks.

“Can I stop you?” I push a fallen strand of hair away from those nearly black eyes.

“I’d shove an elbow into your ribs if I had the energy.”

“I’d fuck the hell out of you if I did.”

She smirks and lays her head back down.

“Brand is totally adorable,” she says on a yawn.

“Yeah, I know.”

“He’s missing you.”

“I miss him, too.”

She looks up again. “Then come back.”

“I will.”

“When?”

I shrug. “When Garrett is ready to face it.”

“Why are you being so easy on him?”

“It’s a long story, Phoenix.”

“Will you ever tell me?”

“It’s not a fairy tale or a bedtime story.”

She pokes me in the chest. “Did you forget who I am?”

I shake my head again.

“Okay, then, when you’re ready, I’d like you to tell me...if you want to.”

“Feel like taking a nap, and then fucking?” I ask.

“Yeah, but then I gotta leave. Mags needs me.”

So do I, I think. So do I.

The nap, it doesn’t happen.

The fucking does, though.

I wake up smelling her, smelling her and me, and I’m pitching a sheet tent like a twelve-year-old boy, but bigger.

I reach over to grab what I swear is mine, yet it’s gone.

I sit up and look around, seeing a note on the nightstand.

- Call me.

Son of a bitch.

I grab my phone and hit my favorites list. She was on top, but now, after this shit, she’s made it to the bottom.

“Hey,” she answers, like me calling is no big thing.

“You playing a game here?” I immediately ask.

“Game?”

“My dick’s hard, and you’re not here. That’s fucked up, squirt.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just following your lead,” she says, again, like it’s no big fucking deal.

“Get back here,” I order.

“Sorry, I’m halfway back. I have things to do today.”

“Think you could have—”

“Woke you up before I left?” She barks a sarcastic laugh.

Fuck.

“Look, this thing we have going, it’s obvious it’s a physical thing.”

“Nothing wrong with the physical part of us,” I snap.

“Tell that to my vagina, the one that seems to think it needs your dick all the damn time.”

“What the hell did you just say?” I gasp.

“Yeah, she’s got issues. Achy and empty when your guy isn’t around. So, this thing, you better make sure you put forth some effort, or I’m gonna have to find—”

“You may want to check your words, babe,” I nearly snap at her.

“What, Gage? You’ve got me chasing dick,” she defends herself.

“No better dick to chase,” I tell her the damn truth.

“Yeah, well, a dick’s a dick.”

“You could get your ass back here, and I’ll give you a fucking reminder of why that’s bullshit, and you know it.”

She sighs. “You’re being a little needy here, Gage Falcon. This isn’t what you...want. I’m not sure I’m okay with it, either.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I am now a few octaves below yelling at her.

“Are your feelings hurt, Gage? Should I have woken you up before I left? You want me to send a bouquet of flowers to stop you from being butt hurt?”

“Butt hurt! Really? You’re all but begging for yours to wear a fucking handprint.”

“It’s all good. You take care of what you need to, and I’ll do the same. Catch you around, Gage Falcon.”

“Phoenix,” I hiss.

“Tell that dick of yours my bruised vag says thanks.”

“Phoenix...” I begin again, but she hangs up on me.

I look down at my dick tent and curse at it.

“Morning,” I say as I walk out and see my brothers sitting around the kitchen island.

Both of them start laughing, and it feels damn good to see it. Been years. But the fact that it’s at me and I’m not in the fucking mood to be laughed at, it pisses me off.

I ignore it.

They don’t.

“She’s a pistol,” Grayson says.

I look at him and scowl.

“She walked outta here, head held high, hair all sorts of fucked up,” Gray continues.

“Like Mom’s used to be in the morning,” Garrett adds.

Grayson laughs. “Peg Bundy.”

“Shut the hell up,” I tell them as I grab a plate and load it up with biscuits and sausage gravy.

“You’re eating my cooking and telling me to shut up?” Gray asks.

“Apparently,” I quip.

“So, Phoenix Star...” he says.

“She’s off limits.” I point a spoon at him.

“Not last night at the club she wasn’t,” he reminds me.

“Last night I was drunk.”

Garrett stands up and walks to the window. I know damn well he wants out of here.

“You good, Garrett?” I ask.

“Six days without a line or piece of ass; how do you think I am?”

“Gotten through the worst of it, man,” I remind him.

He turns and looks at me. “I need to get the fuck out of this fish tank apartment and city.”

“Where to?” Gray asks.

“Somewhere I’m not gonna go into a bathroom and see people doing lines, and somewhere I don’t have to listen to you fuck all night long.” He points at me.

“Didn’t know she was coming,” I tell him.

Gray laughs. “You were the one making her.”

I nod.

I watch Garrett getting all kinds of itchy. I know we need to get out of here, and I know where we have to go. Only place that means anything to us.

“Let’s get to the lake,” I tell them.

“Everyone who puts me on edge is fucking there!” Garrett snaps.

“Not at the old place,” I tell him.

“You gonna stay with us?” Gray asks.

“I will as much as possible.” I look back at Garrett. “Needs to happen.”

“What am I gonna do, sit around and fish?” His laugh is one of annoyance.

“No, Garrett, you’re gonna build a fence.”

We spend the evening like we did as kids—fishing off the dock and cooking our own dinner. We talk about the fence and that Brand wants a horse. Garrett tells us he worked at a ranch for six months, and he would rather deal with horses than people.

We talk like we did before all the shit went down when we were kids. We talk like men who are ready to fucking start over. We fucking talk like brothers.

Hell, we are even in our old room with fucking flashlights. I warn Garrett that he better not try to scare Gray with those damn ghost stories, and Gray tells me he’s not afraid of the dark anymore. When he says it, I see in his eyes what he means.

He watched a man die, and it haunted him for years. Now he knows the fucker deserved to die.

Christ, I have wanted that for so long, but I go into it cautiously, knowing I am leaving Brand out of the equation because that’s when it fucking hurts.

The generator isn’t running since it will make too much noise, alerting the others we are here. The plan for tomorrow is that I will go face them all, something I sure as fuck don’t want to do. However, in order to start fixing this fucking mess, it needs to be fucking done.

It’s going to hurt worse than I can possibly imagine.

But, for now, I have her to get me through it. And when I’m with her, I can’t think of another fucking thing but touching her, eating her, fucking her. From the first fucking time I saw her, I wanted her.

Phoenix.

I sent an ass-load of flowers to her this afternoon, and she hasn’t said one damn thing. Guess that goes beyond what we are.

I laugh at myself. That’s a fucking lie. We could be so much more. I actually like her. And yeah, it sounds weird to say that about a girl.

I lie in bed, fighting the urge to truck through the woods and make her give me a proper thank you. But the way she comes, without inhibition—the only way I want her to come—she would wake up the fucking hill.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.