Chapter 10

 

Gabby chewed on her lip as Flynn drove them through town, her gaze focused out the window at the passing storefronts. The rain had cleared, leaving heavy humidity and light fog. From the driver’s seat, cosmic waves of frustration emanated from Flynn, making her stomach cramp harder. A thousand questions flittered through her mind, never connecting to her mouth.

All week things had been off between them. She figured talking it out would cure that, but whatever had tripped his mood wasn’t abating. And she had no idea where he was taking her. He’d just ordered her to get in the car and he’d peeled away. He hadn’t spared her so much as a glance since.

A few quick turns off the main street and he pulled into the elementary school lot, cutting the engine. Gaze straight ahead, his jaw ticked. His fingers fisted the wheel before finally letting go to sign. “Room 10.”

She glanced at their old school, a two-story tower of red brick and wood, and then back to him. “I don’t understand.”

He shook his head, a slight movement she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been watching him so close. “That’s where we met. Kindergarten, room 10, right inside that building. Your father had just been transferred from Portland and you were the new kid. You had your hair in pigtails and a nervous smile painted on your face.”

Slowly, he turned to look at her, and her lungs quit working. The anger was gone from his eyes, replaced with wary fondness and a plea of understanding. His gaze skimmed over her face as if comparing the girl she used to be with the woman before him.

One corner of his mouth quirked in a half-smirk. “We were standing by our cubbies getting our coats for recess when you first noticed me. You thought I was being rude, not talking to you. And when you found out I was deaf, my dad told me you made your parents enroll you in sign language class at the rec so you could learn how to talk to me.”

He paused, affection softening his hazel eyes. “Outside of my family, no one had ever done that before. Or since. They try by reading lips or using the app communication on my phone, but no one ever went balls out like you.”

Reminding herself to breathe, she swallowed hard. She couldn’t believe he remembered the first time they’d met. She had vague pieces of memory from that time, but nothing that gelled like it had in his mind.

Her fingers tightened around the seatbelt strap across her chest. She stared at the school, the scent of glue and chalk filling her nose as if she were inside, then she looked at the surrounding grounds. Oak and maple trees were breaking past their seedlings and into full spring bloom. The lights in the building were off since it was Saturday, leaving the area quiet.

Flynn opened his door, motioning for her to get out and follow. She trailed him around the east side of the school, breathing in damp grass and pine as they made their way to the playground. She had no idea what he had planned or why they were here, but she smiled being back on their old stomping grounds.

He stopped in front of the monkey bars and gave them a once-over. Raising his arms, he gripped the top rail and leaned into his hands. The muscles in his shoulders and biceps strained against his black T-shirt, all delicious hardness coiling. A slight breeze took his strawberry blond hair from a tad disheveled to unruly.

Staring at her, his expression unreadable, he opened and closed his mouth several times as if trying to form words. “In first grade, you were crossing these bars and Jimmy Valez pushed you down.”

She sucked in a harsh lungful of air. Whether out of self-consciousness or too much effort, he almost never spoke. She’d heard him enough through the years to recognize his voice, but it floored her every time. A deep rumble mixed with odd dialect. When he did use his mouth instead of signing, he talked like he did everything else—in leisure with careful assimilation and thought behind it.

His throat worked a swallow. “I ran to see if you were okay. I was too worried you were hurt to realize I’d spoken aloud. Some of the kids made fun of me.” Even now, the embarrassment tinged his cheeks and made her chest tight. Kids were stupid, didn’t know how much words could hurt. “To this day, you and Fletch are the only ones I talk to. Not even my brothers.”

Drake and Cade would never do anything to make him feel different. Flynn was exceptionally close with both of them and, despite their banter and joking around, there was so much love between them it closed her throat. Because she and Rachel? They barely tolerated each other as sisters, never mind as friends.

But she got what he was saying. Tears burned her eyes and she had to blink repeatedly to clear them before he misunderstood. She didn’t pity him. She cared on such a deep level that when he hurt, she hurt. And he’d been hurt a lot.

He glanced heavenward, dropped his arms, and strode back toward the car. She took a moment to collect herself and followed.

They didn’t speak as he drove them two blocks down the road to the high school, once again parking in the empty lot. By now, she had a clear understanding of what this little trip down memory lane was about, but she didn’t stop him. She’d forgotten all about the monkey bars and the day they’d met, but he hadn’t. Those things were cemented in his mind for a reason and she found herself more than interested in seeing his side of their coin.

He sighed, staring at their old high school, so similar in design to the elementary that it could’ve been its twin if not for the extra floor. “You used to take notes for me in class so I didn’t miss anything. Most of the teachers were conscious about facing the room so I could read lips or signed if they knew how. But you took notes, anyway.”

His gaze slid to hers and held. Intense. Determined. “Three out of four homecoming dances and both proms, we went together. By then, everyone saw you as the sweet girl not to be touched and I was the last resort for anyone. If my brothers didn’t have the same lunch period, you made sure I never ate alone. You were there, including me.” He drew in an unsteady breath and closed his eyes. “High school was bearable because of you.”

She couldn’t remember their classmates ever treating him like an outcast. Drake, Heather, and Zoe were a grade ahead of them and Cade one grade behind. Avery and Brent hadn’t moved to Redwood Ridge until later. Besides their close circle, there were others. Flynn had been on the baseball team all four years. He’d had a lot of friends. Back then, he’d been tall and wiry, not filled out like the man he was today. Still, he’d gotten quite a few batted eyelashes.

The female population may overlook him a lot for being deaf, and part of that was due to Cade having been the town’s playboy before settling down, but Flynn wasn’t hard up. That she was aware, everyone thought he was a funny, handsome guy. Then and now. But...maybe there were instances she hadn’t known about, ways in which kids had been cruel to him?

And he was making her out to be some kind of saint. She didn’t always do the right thing, and if he thought those examples from high school were noble, they weren’t. It had just been her, being a friend. Anyone would’ve done the same. His brothers, Heather, and Zoe had.

He’d obviously forgotten about all the ways he’d helped her, been there for her, too. Staying up late, cramming for biology and chemistry tests because she’d sucked at science. Or going out of his way to drive back from baseball practice before class to pick her up for school because Rachel refused to be seen with her. Or the way only he seemed to remember her allergy to roses. Countless times he’d cut off deliveries at the clinic from clients or warned her dates not to give her roses. Heck, he’d probably boycott Valentine’s Day to save her buying antihistamines.

He didn’t get it. He was no more replaceable in her life than she was in his. She looked at him, all hard edges and rigid spine, wanting him to understand. Her stomach knotted as she reached for his arm.

He shoved the gear into drive and tore out of the lot, their field trip apparently not through.

Over the next hour, he took her past the bowling alley, the ice cream shop, the park, and Shooters—all with a different reason for why they meant something to him. The clinic was particularly hard for him judging by the frustration in his eyes and the way he relayed how difficult the job had been while she’d been recovering from her infection.

But when he drove through the cemetery gates and wound the car slowly on the curved path, her heart dropped into her stomach. As he parked and stared at the headstones, her hands shook and a lump of grief wedged in her throat.

He got out and she followed, standing quietly by his side as he read his father’s grave marker. It would be ten years this summer since he’d died. Flynn had been a senior in college when he’d passed. Of all three O’Grady boys, the loss had hit Flynn the hardest. His father had been Flynn’s first champion. And Flynn had been the one to find his dad’s body after a sudden heart attack.

“You remember the day he died?” Flynn didn’t face her, but she could tell by his profile just standing here was bringing it all back.

“Yes.” She’d heard the news from her mother moments after the ambulance had taken the body away. Word spread quickly in small towns. Gabby hadn’t waited for more details, just bolted out the door and ran to Flynn’s parents’ house. “He’d be so proud of you.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, his laugh humorless. “You said the same thing the day of the funeral when I wanted to quit college. Quit everything.”

She’d meant it then, too. Flynn had pushed past his handicap and into a chosen profession that most said he’d never be able to do. He got around the challenges of not using a stethoscope, incorporating other equipment and his keen observation skills instead. Even his professors couldn’t find fault when he’d accurately displayed the ability to diagnose and treat animals, despite being deaf. It was exactly what his father would’ve wanted for him. His dad had started Animal Instincts from the ground up and left it in his three sons’ capable hands.

“I wouldn’t be a vet if not for you.” He turned to face her. “You listened to me talk nonsense that whole week, laid in bed with me and pretended not to see me cry, then made my ass go back to school to finish.”

“You would’ve done it without me.”

The doubt in his eyes said otherwise. He swallowed, intently watching her face as if trying to decide something. Finally, he glanced off into the distance. “I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Grief, I suppose. But I couldn’t stand all the well-wishers and mourners, couldn’t stand to see my mother bawling her eyes out.” He looked at her. “You grounded me when I was spinning out of control, wanting to chuck it all away.”

“You give me too much credit.”

He shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets as if to say he was done with this conversation. His jaw ticked a steady beat, his brows furrowed, and pure pissed-off male shone in his eyes.

She stepped into his space, crowding him. “You gave as good as you got, Flynn. For every time you think I saved you, I have a memory of you. We were there for each other because that’s what friends do. They lean on each other and pick up the pieces. And I’ll still be here tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that, picking up your pieces. Same as you will for me.”

A thousand and one emotions filled his eyes, there and gone in a blink. He didn’t move a muscle, but he was around her, inside her, taking up space and filling the dark crevices. Comforting, soothing. And for the first time, it wasn’t only that. It was more. A sexual charge of lust, an ache so deep she hadn’t known it existed. She wanted his lips on hers, his arms around her. Wanted to know what his skin would feel like against hers and how good it would be to have him buried inside her.

That. That was what she’d been missing from her previous relationships. Hunger. Heat. The driving need to take and be taken. A good man on the surface, in his heart, but an animal behind closed doors. They hadn’t kissed, had done little more than touch, so she had no idea if this combustion would last. If either would feel anything sexual if they crossed the line.

But, damn. She wanted to find out.

Her breathing grew shallow, her face hot, her belly quivering. His eyes widened in recognition and he leaned forward, desire dilating his pupils. He hovered in the small space between them, breath mingling—only to jerk upright and take a step back. Like he’d done before. Denying them both. Rejecting her.

But this time, she understood his reasons. Valid reasons. And he was right. After everything he’d said today, all the places he’d taken her, they probably shouldn’t act on their attraction. The consequences were too great.

He pressed his palms to his eyes and put more distance between them as if trying to do the right thing and powerless to proceed. A growl rumbled in his throat as he turned to face the headstone.

After several deep breaths, he squatted by his dad’s grave marker and brushed the fresh grass clippings from the face. His head bowed, she imagined he was having some kind of internal talk with his father.

She gave him space and walked down a ways to Heather’s grave. Drake’s wife had died after a short, brutal battle with ovarian cancer. It had left them all wrecked, especially Drake, and staring at her tombstone only made her realize how short life could be. The people she loved could be taken from her at any given time. There one minute, gone the next.

“Miss you.” She blew Heather a kiss and made her way back to the car, tears burning her eyes. By the time Flynn returned to the driver’s seat, she had herself under control.

She thought he’d take her home, but instead, he pulled up to his house and got out. Maybe after all the memories he’d forgotten Fletch was still at her place. But the minute he unlocked the door and went to stand in the middle of the living room floor, she knew he wasn’t done.

She closed the door and leaned against it, letting it hold her upright. Flynn’s tormented, desperate gaze found hers from across the room and exhaustion claimed her. Best and worst birthday ever. She needed cake. And wine.

She preferred an orgasm, but that was looking as likely as Ryan Gosling sweeping into town and claiming his undying love.

Flynn glanced at the fireplace. “You and Zoe helped me decorate the house after the build was complete.”

She nodded. “We helped Cade with his house, too. What’s your point?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “My point is, even in my home, you’re here. You’re on the couch, watching movies. In the kitchen, whipping up margaritas for the hell of it. In pictures on the wall and accent pillows I can’t stand, but refuse to get rid of because you gave them to me.”

Someone needed to snap them out of this circle, so she brought out the funny, too tired to do any more. “I’ll take the pillows back.”

“It’s not about the pillows!”

“You just said it was.” She never considered herself a pyro, but this playing with fire thing had its merits.

He bared his teeth, fists clenched in front of him as if wishing her throat was in them. Veins protruded from his arms. His biceps strained against his shirt.

Her panties went damp. “I’ll make daiquiris instead next time since margaritas bother you so much.”

On a dime, he froze. Glared at her. Swiped a hand down his face and...laughed. “Christ, Gabby. This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny. And you laughed.” Strained as it may have been.

He sat on the arm of the couch, legs stretched out before him and shoulders sagging. He clasped his hands in front of him and stared at the floor. That was the real reason he’d brought her here, to point out the exact spot where things had changed for them. She was positive.

“You forgot something.” She took a step closer and then another. His eyes narrowed in warning, but she kept going until she stood between his legs, his face level with hers. “You forgot about this area of the floor where we danced and—”

“Gabby,” he growled.

And oh, her girly parts cried. “I understand why you’re hesitant, why you’re fighting whatever this is between us. Everywhere we went today, everything you said, it makes sense. I get it. But did it ever occur to you we built this up in our heads? What if we kiss and don’t like it? What if we have sex and it sucks?”

He stared at her deadpan while his chest rose and fell so fast it belied his expression. His lids grew heavy, eyes glazing with lust. Lips parted, he brought his hands up to her waist. Squeezed. Electricity zinged through her bloodstream. He sucked in a harsh breath like he’d felt it, too.

“And what if it doesn’t suck?” He stared at her, a question in his eyes, almost like a last hope. As if him speaking aloud was supposed to turn her off even if the words weren’t meant to.

Torn, she studied him. If they kissed and nothing was there, problem solved. But, if there was a spark, if the chemistry went beyond what-if, then...

He splayed his fingers, hands moving from her waist to her lower back and nudging her forward. Her pulse tripped, shooting up somewhere in the vicinity of a spastic, sugar-induced child. Her nipples pebbled behind her bra just at the mere brush of his hard chest against her sweater.

Heat. So. Much. Heat.

Aroused male and the scent of his soap surrounded her, had her head spinning. She gripped his shoulders, his...firm...shoulders, then slid her hands around the back of his neck, fingertips weaving into the strands at his nape. His hands jerked on her back, dipped lower, nearly grabbing her backside.

“Decide,” he said, gaze focused on her mouth as if he’d already made up his mind. A lazy blink and then his eyes lifted, met hers. A sea of green and brown enclosed in long, pale lashes. A travesty to the female species, those eyes. Beautiful, expressive, they drew her into his vortex. “I’m losing it, Gabby.” His voice, a low, coarse rumble, caused a tremor to tear through her body. “Decide.”

A whimper—hers—and then the miniscule centimeters between them vanished.