Bess
Lane stood there, his eyes no longer caressing me but stealing my resolve, sucking all my strength right out from under my skin. He’d turned deathly pale, his eyes widening as his jaw went rigid, just like the rest of his body.
“Lane, are you okay?” I separated myself from Shirley and walked over to him, sliding my arm around his back.
We’d had a good meeting. I’d shared, asked for help when it came to being in a relationship, and had spoken my fears aloud. I felt a lot better just from that alone.
Shirley had been particularly quiet as I’d shared with the group, eyeing me with a curious expression. I hadn’t seen her in a week or more, and chalked it up to us not seeing each other. But now I wasn’t certain.
“Shirley, what are you doing here?” Lane said through gritted teeth.
Taking a wary step toward him, Shirley said, “I live here now.” She’d clenched her hands, but I could still see them shaking.
“How?” he wheezed out.
When he balled his fists at his sides, I slid my hand over one of his and pried his fingers open, slipping mine in between.
Shirley pressed her lips together, obviously trying and failing to keep them from trembling. “I came here years ago, cleaned up, got married. I work in the diner now. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you and Jake.”
Shocked, I struggled to keep my mouth shut as my gaze pinged between them. Think of you? And Jake?
“Come again?” Lane responded, his brow pinched tight.
“I think of you two all the time, how I was wrong and I’m an awful person.” She shifted nervously from one foot to the other, then licked her lips before saying, “It plagues me, but then Bess met you. When I heard how successful you’d become, I was so proud of you. And I thought I’d be able to watch you succeed more through Bess.”
“Through Bess?” he said through gritted teeth. “My Bess? Successful? Shirley, I have nightmares like a prison inmate, ones where I lash out and hurt people, like Bess. Thanks so much for tampering with my life once again, but no thanks.”
Grabbing my arm, Lane turned and dragged me to the car. Once inside, he locked the doors and turned to me. “Did you know she knew me? Did you?” he yelled.
I wasn’t afraid. Lane’s bark was bigger than his bite, but I did back up against the window at the cruelty of his accusations.
“Know? How would I know? Know like you knew I was a drug addict and nearly OD’d in yoga? That kind of know?”
He buried his face in his hands, running his hands through his thoroughly mussed hair as he let out a loud, “Fuck. This is so fucked up.”
“I didn’t know anything, Lane. You have to believe me. I met Shirley after I met you, at the morning meeting because I was avoiding AJ. She took care of me, but she did encourage me to pursue you,” I admitted, wanting to be transparent.
Still unsure of how Shirley was woven into the very tangled web we’d already spun, I sat quietly.
“Shirley was our sitter. Mine and Jake’s when he fooled around with the car. The one who told us to not tell anyone,” he said in a whisper.
Gasping for air at this news, I jumped in my seat when Lane yelled, “Shit!” He banged his hand against the steering wheel. “Jake mentioned something about Shirley when we were fighting, and I completely ignored him.”
“Jake? I’ve never introduced the two of them . . .”
Lane cupped his head back in his hands, leaning into the seat as he sighed.
“Ugh!” Again he slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “We saw her, when we were leaving AJ’s when we got the necklace. The woman in the Buick, I knew she looked familiar. Jake must have pursued it. Little asshole.”
Leaning forward, I turned and put my hand on Lane’s chest, resting it above his heart. I felt the pounding beat, coming strong and fast through his jacket. “Lane, I didn’t know. You have to know that. I would never do anything to trick you,” I said, sensing he needed to know that, especially after the scam Shirley had pulled on them. They were kids, for God’s sake. They wouldn’t have gone go to jail.
But she would have.
My world spun as my emotions unraveled. Self-loathing filled me at the thought that Lane had tried to do something right for me, and it ended up crumbling at his feet. I hated myself for ever trusting Shirley, and at the moment, I despised Jake for not filling me in.
But I loved Lane, so I said, “Why don’t we call Jake? Maybe he can fill in the blanks.”
Later that night, after making coffee and sitting around the fire with Lane and Jake hashing out the present muck they waded in, I crawled into bed next to Lane. He was on the left side, his arms behind his head, his chest bare, and I crawled into the crook of his arm and shoulder, running my hand along his stomach.
As Lane had assumed, Jake had recognized Shirley leaving AJ’s and took it upon himself to find her. A few of the times I’d seen him over the last few months, he’d really been up in Ligonier scoping her out, confronting her and not being able to appropriately put her in her place. He’d wanted to tell Lane in Miami, but Lane had become wholly focused on getting back to me.
I made slow circle eights on Lane’s abs while I thought about how painful his and Jake’s childhood must have been, and now another scab had been ripped off. Abruptly.
Shirley had never mentioned any of this to me. She’d probably thought that being able to watch Lane through my eyes—to see him succeed and fall in love—would ease her conscience. Jake had tried to tell her that was bullshit, but she wouldn’t hear it.
As we lay quietly in bed, sneaking soft touches while we listened to Brooks snoring on the dog bed, I came to terms with losing the second person crucial to my staying sober. Who would be my rock now? I wasn’t strong enough to do it on my own.
“I’m there for you now, Bess. And you’re a lot stronger than you think,” Lane said, turning to face me as he threaded his hand through mine.
“Did I say that out loud or are you a mind reader?”
“The latter. This evening started out about me supporting you, and ended with you taking care of me . . . again. I just want you to know that I’m right by your side, no matter what,” he said before kissing me.
“I said it out loud.”
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
I ran my hand through his dark hair falling on his forehead. Seeing him with his head on my pale pink pillowcase, exposed and vulnerable, did something to my heart. I fell more in love.
“I love you, Mr. Wrigley.”
“Lane,” he said with a wry smile, reminding me of when we first met.
“Why me?”
“We were always meant to be, Bess. You were the bright yellow in my colorless, bland life.”
And then he kissed me again, this time not stopping. With his hand traveling south, his fingers found me.
“Don’t stop,” I said, my breath coming in small pants as he stroked me.
He put another finger inside me as his thumb teased my sensitive spot, and I concentrated on pulling air in and out of my lungs.
“I believe you like calling me Mr. Wrigley,” he teased, then nibbled on my neck.
My fingers dug into his back, scratching their way down to his ass as I called out his name with my orgasm.
The second his fingers left my body, I wanted something to replace them. Reaching down, I wrapped my hand around his erection, stroking up and down its length, my thumb smoothly grazing over the tip.
“Bess,” he growled.
I didn’t answer; instead I straddled his legs and guided him inside me. Exhaling a low moan, I sank all the way down.
“Come here,” Lane demanded once I was seated on him. When I leaned forward, he took my mouth, sliding his tongue inside while his hand went to my hip, setting the pace at which he wanted me to move.
It was slow and languid. I pulled up and slid back down with the grace of a ballerina until Lane’s hand held on for better purchase, encouraging me to go faster. With his hand bruising my side, I rode him like a stripper in Vegas.
Racing to the finish, not concerned when we would make love again because we knew we would—hoped that we would—we both hit our climax quickly, crying out into the night, squeezing out every last emotion of the day from each other.
As Lane spooned me, I let out a little sigh and said, “I’ve got to go back to work tomorrow, you know.”
“Okay,” he said easily as he slid his hand down my back, coming around from behind to tease my clit. “Are you sure I can’t convince you otherwise?”