Chapter 9
Lea
Lying in bed, looking up at the ceiling, as the light from outside shines in through the window, casting shadows on the bumpy surface I pray for sleep. Even though it’s after one in the morning, the night looks more like dusk. If I’m going to stay here, I’ll need to buy darker curtains and blinds, because I’m used to sleeping in pitch black and the light, along with my brain that never seems to shut off, is leaving me exhausted. I guess right now I have a good reason to not fall asleep.
My ex-husband is in town—well, I guess he actually isn’t my ex. Then, Austin…I have no idea what is going on with him. Something has changed; I don’t know when, but I can feel it in his touch and see it in the way he looks at me. And that scares me more than anything has in a very long time.
I roll to my side to face away from the window then hear a light tap, tap, tap coming from the front door. I frown then hear it again. Ben and Rhonda left around nine, and Austin stayed until ten only leaving then because he had to get up at four for an opener. When I walked him to the door he gave me a long hug and a kiss to my forehead then whispered his lips over mine before walking to his truck leaving me wanting more. Running my fingers over my lips absently I get up, turn on the light, and pull my oversized cashmere sweater off the back of the chair. Quietly going to the front window in the living room and peeking out through the blinds, seeing the car that Ken had driven here earlier today is parked out front.
“Goddammit,” I hissed under my breath, looking at the door again when the tapping starts back up.
“Lea, I know I shouldn’t have shown up. I know I should have signed those papers. I’m sorry, Peaches, but I really have nowhere to go. The hotels are all booked, and there are no available flights until Sunday. Can I please come in? I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“This cannot be happening,” I mutter. There is no way I want to be in the same state as my ex-husband, let alone under the same roof, but I do know he is probably telling the truth about the hotels and the flights, so I feel conflicted and wish for once I didn’t have a conscience.
I pull my bottom lip in between my teeth, debating what to do. Lights flicker through the dark living room, an engine cuts off, and a door slams.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hear come from Ken, and I frown at the door as loud banging starts.
“Lea, open up.” Now Austin? Are you kidding me? What the hell is this?
As soon as I open the door, Austin puts his hand on my belly, pushing me back into the house, then shuts the door behind him.
“What are you doing here?” I frown.
“I asked Zach to drive by and, if he saw Ken’s car, to call me,” he explains then glares at the door.
“Lea, can I please talk to you alone?” Ken calls. My mind begins to race. This is not what I need—not tonight, not when I feel like my body is about to shut down from lack of sleep and stress.
“He said he can’t get a flight until Sunday and that there are no rooms in town. I can’t just make him sleep in his car for two days.”
“He’s not staying here unless I am,” He says and I can actually feel his rumbled words vibrate through my body making me tingle.
“Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
I did hear him, but what the hell is going on? “This cannot be happening,” I groan in frustration once again.
“No one’s sleeping in my mom’s room, and that only leaves the couch and my bed, so unless you’re willing to sleep with him,” I jerk my thumb towards the door, “this isn’t gonna work.”
“I’ll sleep with you.”
“No.”
“Then I guess he’s sleeping in his car.”
“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
“I’m my own boss baby.” He shrugs.
“Fine.” I should just make the jerk sleep in his car, but I would feel horrible the whole time. “Stupid conscience.” I mutter under my breath.
Going to the door, swing it open, and look at my ex, a man I thought I loved, who I believed loved me, boy was I wrong. So completely wrong that, even now, guilt strikes me hard.
“You can sleep on the couch,” I tell him and without waiting for him to reply I storm off down the hall to my room and shut the door. I don’t even want to contemplate Austin sleeping in my room with me, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel better knowing he was here in the house.
Listening as a couple doors shut I take off the sweater, which leaves me in a pair of sleep shorts and a tank, and get into bed. Seconds after I lie down, my door opens and Austin steps into the room. His eyes roam over me then he turns off the light, but that does nothing to stop my eyes from seeing him slip his hooded sweatshirt off over his head then his shirt, leaving the large expanse of his chest exposed, showing off a tattoo I hadn’t known he had and flat abs, not overly defined, but definitely visible. Then his hands go to the buttons of his jeans and he pulls them down, leaving him in a pair of black boxer briefs that mold to the thick muscles of his thighs.
His large body is imposing and almost predatory as he walks toward the bed. My eyes track his every movement, from the way his arms hang at his sides, to the way his muscles flex under his skin. We had sex when we were teenagers, and I loved the way he made me feel then, the way he was so large and rugged, always making me feel feminine and small. But this Austin is someone completely different. He doesn’t just take up the space in my room; he commands it looking at him now I can see the Viking ancestry in his features which only serve to make him more beautiful, and terrifying at the same time.
As he nears the bed, I wonder how the hell we’re going to make this work. The queen size is large for me, and would be for two normal people, but with Austin’s bulk, I know it’s going to feel like we’re sleeping on a twin.
“I gave him some blankets and shit out of the linen closet.”
“Oh,” I didn’t even think about that, “thanks.”
“Uh-hum,” he grunts, pulling the covers back and getting under. Immediately, I feel the heat from his body and his skin touching mine at our sides. The worst part is I can’t even ask him to scoot over, because he takes up the whole damn bed without even trying. Lying there awkwardly his body turns towards mine, his hand slides under my neck and his hand lays over my waist. My body and lungs freeze, but he doesn’t move again, so I turn to my side, facing the door, and tuck myself into a ball, bringing my knees up to my chest. Then I move the pillow so that it’s under my head, instead of Austin’s arm. I move again, kicking one leg outside the covers then roll slightly to my stomach, with one leg hitched up.
“Christ,” he growls, putting his arm around my waist, pulling my back to his front until my body curves into his.
“Austin,” I hiss his name and try to wiggle free, but his arm just tightens around me. I finally give up out of frustration and exhaustion, and fall asleep trying to ignore how good it feels to be in his arms.
I wake up feeling hot, too hot, with a heavy weight pressing down on me. It takes a moment to remember I’m still in bed with Austin, but we had changed positions sometime during the night and now his body is now half on top of mine, his arm around me, his thigh over both of mine. I tilt my head back and look at the clock, seeing the red numbers reading a few minutes after six. I’m still tired, but had slept better than I have in a long time. I debate with myself on how to get out of bed then flip half the covers off causing Austin to grumble something, scoot back slightly, take his thigh off mine, but then wrap his arm tighter around me pinning me in place. My eyes start to feel heavy while I lie listening to the sound of his soft snore in my ear, and before I know it, I’m out again.
The feel of rough hands moving up the backs of my thighs, over my backside, then settling above my ass has my eyes blinking open. “Baby, you gotta move,” is growled, and my heart begins to beat hard and my stomach knots. My legs are on either side of Austin’s waist, my core close to something thick and hard, my cheek pressing to his hair-covered chest. Realizing where I am I fly backwards, getting my feet tangled in the blanket, and fall off the bed onto my ass.
“Shit,” leaves his mouth, and he somehow manages to pick me up as if I weigh nothing and brings me back onto the bed setting me in front of him and running his hands over me. “You okay?”
I nod. I’m okay. My ego, not so much. I feel my face heat to a hundred degrees and I watch as a smile twitches his lips, then a roar of laughter shortly follows as he falls backwards onto the bed.
“It’s not funny,” I huff then think about how crazy I must have looked and cover my mouth as uncontrollable laughter bubbles up the back of my throat.
“Baby, that shit was funny as hell.” He laughs harder, making me pull a pillow from the bed and shove my face into it as I laugh loud, doubling over from the force of it. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks after his laughter has died down and I have taken my face out of the pillow.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I lower my face slightly, averting my eyes from his.
“What time is it?”
I look at the clock and feel my eyes grow in size. “Holy crap!”
“What?” His head turns and he looks at the clock. “It’s only ten.”
“I haven’t slept past six in forever,” I mumble, knowing he did that somehow, he made it possible for me to sleep.
“You needed to sleep. I wasn’t gonna wake you, but I need to piss.” That reminder has my face, which had cooled, heating right back up again. It also makes me wonder how long I had been asleep on top of him, with him awake, before then.
I watch him get out of bed, pick up his jeans off the floor, and put them on, my eyes training on the large bulge in his boxers before it’s covered up by the worn out denim material. Then he opens the door and slips out of the room. I sit there, wondering what the hell is going on in my head. My mom just passed away and I have an ache in my chest that I can’t seem to get rid of, but I also have this undercurrent of happiness flowing through me. It feels strange to be sad and happy all at once, but that’s what I’m feeling.
I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that, laughed so hard my stomach muscles hurt from doing it. Getting out of bed I grab my sweater from my chair and wrap it around me then dig through my drawer to find a pair of my cashmere socks that go up to mid-thigh. When the door opens again, I steel myself from looking at Austin until he growls, “You’re not wearing those out there.”
My head swings to him, and I frown and ask, “What?”
“The socks.” He shakes his head and his mouth turns down in the corners. “You’re not wearing them out there.”
“Why?”
“Dick is still here.”
“I haven’t forgotten that, Austin.” I roll my eyes and stand up after adjusting the soft material.
“Take them off.”
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest, but then my body is moving backwards, my calves hitting the bed, and I fall back with a bounce. “What the hell are you doing?” I screech as my feet are pulled up. I try to kick out, but he grabs both my legs with one arm around my thighs and pulls off one sock then the other as I struggle, rolling and thrashing back and forth. “Give them back!” I shout.
“Fuck no. Wear normal socks.”
“Oh, my God, give them back now.”
“You’re not wearing the damn things, so get over it,” he snaps.
“You can’t tell me what to wear!” I practically shriek.
“Just did.” He says stepping away from me.
“Austin, so help me, God.” I lean my head back in frustration. “Give them back right this second or I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Try it, babe, and I’m spanking you,” he growls, leaning toward me.
“You did not just threaten to spank me.”
“Did, and will.” He crosses his arms over his bare chest and my socks dangle out of one hand.
“Please give me my socks.” I try a different tactic, hoping my softer tone will make him see how stupid this is.
“No.”
“Fine.” I shrug, go to my drawer, and find another pair in a different color. I think I’m in the clear, when his hand snatches them away from me, adding them to the other two he already has.
“Why are you being so ridiculous?”
“I already told you; the dick is out there.”
“So what does he have to do with you holding my socks hostage?”
“I walked into the room and the first thing I thought was I want you in those socks and nothing else, with your long legs wrapped around my waist as I fuck you,” he snarls.
My breath comes out in a sudden whoosh as the image of me underneath him, my legs around his hips, his face close to mine, our bodies in sync and sweaty fills my head. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” He shoves the socks back in the drawer and slams it shut then picks up his shirt off the floor, pulling it on over his head. I watch this, still stunned by what he just said. I know he told me he kissed me back, and I know something is changing, but admitting to wanting me isn’t something I planned on hearing from him ever again.
“What’s going on?” I ask, not even sure if the words are loud enough to be heard. His eyes scan my face and he takes a step toward me, ducking his head to the side, causing his lips to brush my ear as he murmurs, “Something beautiful, Little Lamb,” before he steps back, presses his mouth to mine in the lightest of touches, opens the door, and walks out of the room, leaving me fighting to breathe. But for once, it doesn’t hurt.
It takes me a few minutes to build up the courage to leave the room, but when I do, I walk into the kitchen, seeing something I never, ever thought I would. Austin is pouring himself a cup of coffee in his jeans, t-shirt, and bare feet, and Ken is standing with his back to the counter, leaning on it, with a cup of coffee in his hand, wearing much the same as Austin. Looking between the two of them I want to turn around and leave the small space before either of them can notice me.
“You want coffee, baby?” Austin asks, and I look from him to Ken when I see his body go tight out of the corner of my eye. Turning my head our gazes connects, causing my insides to twist with unease. I don’t love him anymore. I honestly don’t even like him much as a person, but I did love him once. Maybe not with everything in me, but a part of me loved him enough to spend the rest of my life with him. But if I’m honest with myself, if things hadn’t happened the way they had, if he had been faithful to me I don’t know where we would be.
I feel my nails dig into my palms, almost like I’m trying to grasp onto the feeling I had minutes ago. Those few minutes of happiness I had with Austin are being washed away by the look in Ken’s eyes. A warm palm touches my cheek, curving up and around my ear. I lift my eyes to meet Austin’s blue ones and my eyes slide closed as I exhale a breath, not fully understanding how one look, one small touch from him, can make everything else fade to nothingness.
“Can I talk to you, Lea?” Ken asks, and my eyes squeeze shut before opening once more, but instead of seeing Ken, I see Austin, his concerned eyes searching my face.
“Please?” Ken asks impatiently.
“We have nothing to talk about. I spoke with Tom, and I’m filing a petition with the court.”
“I don’t want to talk about that. I’ll sign the goddamn papers.”
“Watch it,” Austin growls.
“Can I talk to my goddamn wife?” Ken roars, and Austin is standing in front of him before I can even blink, their bodies chest-to-chest.
“Do not raise your voice to her. She owes you fucking nothing.”
Ken’s chest puffs up, but then his shoulders slump and his fingers squeeze the bridge of his nose. “I just want to talk to her.”
I put my hand on Austin’s back, feeling his muscles contract and release from my touch. “It’s okay,” I tell him softly.
“I’m not leaving you in here with him alone. If he wants to talk, he can do that with me standing here, or not at all.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“No,” he says firmly, and Ken’s coffee cup crashes down on the counter, causing coffee to slosh all over it.
“I’m sorry, okay?” Ken growls, locking his gaze with mine. “I’m sorry I was never enough. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder. I’m sorry your mom died, and really fucking sorry I had an affair.”
My heart starts to pound hard, causing a whoosh, whoosh, whoosh sound to fill my ears as he continues, “I’m so fucking sorry, Lea, and I know it doesn’t change anything, but you have to know that if I could go back in time, I would have done things differently.”
Then his eyes go between Austin and me, and tribulation fills his features. “But it wouldn’t matter, would it? This is where you’re supposed to be.”
With those parting words, he leaves the kitchen, and a few seconds later, the front door opens and slams shut causing me to flinch as the harsh sound vibrates through the house. Closing my eyes arms wrap around me, holding me tight, sheltering me. I don’t know how long we stay like that, but eventually, Austin lets me go, moving back to the coffee pot, pouring a cup, and handing it to me.
“Talk to me.” He leans back against the counter, lifting his mug to his mouth, taking a drink. Though his pose is casual, his eyes are assessing. I can see him trying to read what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling only I don’t even understand what’s going on inside of me.
“I don’t know if this is something I should be talking to you about.”
“I know you were married to him, Lea. I know you loved him and fucked him. I don’t think you can tell me anything that’s gonna shock me.”
“Okay then, I don’t want to talk to you about it.”
“Talk to me,” he repeats.
“I don’t remember you being so bossy or annoying,” I grumble, taking a drink of coffee.
“Fifteen years ago, I wasn’t paying attention, and you got away from me. I wasn’t listening when you asked me if I ever wanted to leave this place, if I ever thought of doing something else with my life besides fishing. I’m not letting that happen again, Lea,” he says softly. Even as delicately as the words are spoken, they slowly cut me open, exposing old wounds, making me feel raw and vulnerable as I stand there before him.
My nose stings and I fight back tears, still managing to ask, “What’s happening between us? One minute, you tell me you hate me, then I kiss you and you storm off. And then…then, this morning…” I let the last part hang as I lower my eyes so that he can’t see my face turn red like I’m a back to being a teenager instead of a grown woman.
“I told you already that I don’t hate you.” His fingers under my chin bring my head up so our eyes meet. “I never have. Yes, the kiss took me by surprise. Your mom just passed away, and I don’t want you to use what has been building between us as a way to escape from the pain of losing her, but then regret it when you go back into your head again. As for you and me,” his face goes soft and his voice drops an octave, “we’re inevitable, Lea, and I know you feel it too. I’m drawn to you in a way that even if fifty years passed, I would still crave you on a primal level.”
“I…” Words get lodged in my throat as I look at him. I know he’s right; so much has changed, while at the same time, whatever we had so many years ago is still alive, like a living, breathing thing. It had changed with time, but is still familiar.
“Talk to me, baby,” he says again.
I take a step back and lean on the counter, taking a sip of coffee while getting my thoughts in order.
“I know it’s stupid, but I feel guilty. When I confronted him about his affair, he never apologized. He made me feel like I forced him into a relationship with someone else.” I can still feel his words like a smack in the face as he shouted them at me in our kitchen the day I saw a text between him and Courtney that was more than just business. “‘You don’t love me, so I found someone who does.’ That’s what he told me, when I asked him why.”
“Can I ask you something?” I nod, giving him permission. “If this whole situation played out the same way, with your mom needing you home, but you were still married to him, would you come to me?”
“Do you mean would I have an affair with you?” I question.
“Yeah, would you have had an affair with me, would you explore things between us while you were married to someone else?”
“No,” I say without even having to think about it. I may have wanted to, but there is no way I would do that. “When I took my vows, I took them seriously, in hopes that the feelings I felt for him would grow into more with time. I know I didn’t love him the way I should have, but I tried.”
“That’s my point, Lea. He fucked up; you have nothing to feel guilty about. He should have told you straight up that he wanted a divorce before he went out and fucked around on you. That’s not on you. It’s on him. I know it sucked for you, but he fucked up, not you.”
“I felt relieved,” I whisper, lowering my gaze once more.
“Pardon?” He asks dipping his face towards mine so he can see my face.
Clearing my throat, I lift my gaze to his and explain myself. “I felt relieved when I had a reason to divorce him.” I confess feeling tears drip onto my hands, which are gripping the coffee cup in my hands tighter.
“Why didn’t you have kids with him?”
I lift my head and my lips part. When Austin and I were young, we talked often about having children and the kind of parents we would be. I have always wanted to be a mother, and I wanted a baby with Ken, but he always told me the timing wasn’t right, that we should wait. He always had a reason not to try, until eventually I stopped talking to him about it, and it just became another ache deep inside me that would never be fulfilled.
“I know you, Lea. I know you wanted kids. Not just one, but five, I can’t imagine you not making your desire known.”
“I told him.”
“And, he told you no?”
“Yeah.” I shrug like it didn’t hurt every time I brought it up and he told me no.
“What did he give you?” he demands harshly.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“What did he give you that would make you stay loyal to him?”
“I don’t understand your question.” I shake my head.
“He wanted your love, Lea. He had you, but still wanted more. But what was he giving to you that would make you love him with every part of you?”
“He didn’t have to give me anything for me to love him,” I say, offended.
His voice softens along with his face as he reaches out touching my cheek. “You’re wrong, baby. That’s what love is—two people fulfilling the needs of the other person, giving the person what they want, what they need,”
“How can you feel like that?”
“Because, Lea, I know what I would have done if it was me.”
“But he wasn’t you.” And that is the point, isn’t it? No one would ever be Austin for me. No one would ever be able to fulfill the empty space I had inside me from his absence over the last fifteen years. No one but him
“No one has ever been you for me either, baby,” he says, and I hold my cup a little bit tighter as his words wash over me, like a balm that soothes and heals. I have no idea where this will lead between us, but it feels good to have him here to talk to.
“What about you?” I ask, studying him.
“What about me?”
“You know about my past, but I don’t really know much about yours,” I prompt.
“I’ve had a few relationships, cared deeply about a few of the women I was with, and wanted to be able to take the next step with one of them, but could never do it.”
I have a feeling I’m going to regret asking, but still, the words are out before I can think better of it, for the sake of my own heart. “What do you mean?”
“Thought I was in love once. She was messed up over her ex, but I still believed that if things worked out in the end that she would be mine.”
“Oh.” My heart drops into my stomach from a sharp, unexpected pain.
“She moved away and ended up back with her ex, who she had a baby with. They worked things out and are still going strong. I cared about her; she’s a good woman, but we weren’t meant to be. I’m happy for her. She deserves happiness.”
I lift my cup to my lips, taking another sip, not tasting anything as I swallow it down. I have no right to feel the tendrils of jealousy that are wrapping around me, but I do feel them, like a million barbs tightening around my stomach and lungs, strangling me.
“We both have a past, Lea.” He says reading my face.
“I know.” Looking at him now, I know how strong he is, so much stronger than me, and a much better person than I am. I don’t want to know about his past. I don’t want to hear about him loving someone else. Yes, I know that makes me selfish, but I hate the idea that he had a life without me. Yet, I’m still not brave enough to ask him why, if he had such a hard time being without me, did he not come for me. Honestly, I don’t want to hear the truth, whatever it may be. I would rather live in the moment and pretend there isn’t a million things we need to talk about, a million things that are standing between us.