Chapter 26 #2
He appears in the doorway, a harsh frown etched on his mouth. “That doesn’t give him a right to put his hands on you.”
I yank the hand towel from the holder and wet it.
“He was hurting.” Because of me. Because I broke his heart.
I wasn’t the only one who lost everything that night .
Jayson did, too. He lost himself to alcohol to cope with the trauma of what happened to me.
He didn’t know where I was or if I was alive.
And when I came back, I wasn’t his Liz. I was a different person with no memories of us.
I fell in love with his best friend. And then we found out in the most horrific way that we lost our daughter.
“So that makes it okay for him to try and choke you out?” Fallon angrily retorts.
“Of course not! But it’s a tad hypocritical of you to go after him for doing something you also did.”
Just like I knew that night in Noreurljósavegur that Fallon wouldn’t hurt me, I knew the same thing about Jayson when he lashed out after he saw Ryder propose to me.
Both times I came close to kneeing them in the groin.
No man should put his hands on a woman in anger.
Ever. And I think I just reiterated Fallon’s point and lost the argument we’re having.
“Stop making excuses for him. He’s a grown-ass man. He doesn’t need you to protect him.”
It’s difficult to keep a clear head and contend my point when Fallon is standing there naked.
“And may I also remind you that I’m a grown-ass woman, who doesn’t need anyone’s protection?”
Fallon moves from the doorway. Grabbing the hand towel from my grasp, he takes over, and I hiss at the rough scrape of the terry cloth as he tenderly cleans between my legs.
“Sore?” he asks.
“A little.”
We watch one another in the mirror. Standing behind me, he towers over me by several inches. When he finishes, he places the hand towel on the vanity and cups my pussy.
“Let’s get one thing straight. I protect what I love,” he says, grinding my clit with his palm.
I didn’t think I had another orgasm in me to give, so I’m not prepared for how quickly he wrenches one out of me.
“Look at how beautiful you are when you come.”
The sight of us in the mirror—of him, of what he’s doing, of the ecstasy glazed over my face—is so erotic. I had asked Fallon to ruin me, but I never knew it would be so completely.
I pull his arms tighter around me, and he kisses my neck. When his eyes lift to our reflection, I ask, “Is this how every argument between us is going to go? I disagree with you, and you give me an orgasm to shut me up?”
He grins. “I don’t see a problem with that, but if you want to argue about it…”
I collapse into giggles when he digs his fingers into my sides and tickles me. “What I want is a stack of pancakes and a gallon of coffee.” I should take a shower first and wash off the smell of sex that clings to my skin, but I’m starving.
With a not-so-quick kiss, Fallon lets me go, and I rummage through the chest of drawers for anything to put on. Finding one of Ryder’s old Randy’s Custom Auto sweatshirts, I slip it over my head. It’s so big that the hem drops to my knees.
Tossing a pair of sweatpants at Fallon, I quietly turn the lock on the doorknob and peek down the hallway. Still no sounds coming from the kitchen or from upstairs, thank god. I refuse to do a walk of shame in my own home in front of my kids.
“I’m going to grab some shorts,” I tell Fallon and tiptoe out—then scream bloody murder when Charlotte pops out of nowhere.
“Mom?”
“Don’t do that!”
But she’s not looking at me. Her gaze, and her blinding smile, are locked on the bare-chested man standing directly behind me. “Morning, Uncle Fallon.”
“Morning, Squirt.”
Kill me now.
“What’s going on? Who yelled?” Christopher shouts from upstairs, his running footsteps sounding like cannon fire hitting the ceiling.
I dash into my bedroom, feeling zero guilt about leaving Fallon out there on his own, and slam the door closed.
“Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all,” I groan out loud.
I had wanted to sit the kids down and talk to them. Have an open conversation about Fallon and me and the likelihood of him sleeping over some nights. Make sure they were okay with it. Answer any questions they had. All of that just flew out the damn window.
Hurrying to put on a pair of shorts, I disconnect my phone from its charger and see there’s a new text message from Daniel. He and Drew are flying back from Singapore tomorrow. I’ve barely had a chance to talk to them since I returned from Italy.
Me: Me and the kids have missed you! Can’t wait for you and Drew to be home. Sunday cookout at the house to welcome you back.
And tell them about Fallon. And Jayson. Maybe a cookout isn’t such a great idea.
When my phone rings, I assume it’s Daniel and answer it before checking the caller ID.
“Hey! I just texted you.”
“You did?” Julien says. “I didn’t get anything.”
I sit down on the corner of the bed. “Not you. Daniel. I thought you were him. What’s up?”
I was going to call him this morning about Jayson being back. Maybe he saw him, too, and had the same inclination.
“Just checking in since you didn’t show up this morning for our run.”
Remembering to set my alarm for our morning run was the furthest thing from my mind last night.
I flop back onto the bedspread and gaze up at the ceiling fan. “I’m so sorry. I hope you and Elijah didn’t wait around for me.”
“I thought, maybe, you were mad at me…you know, about the other day.”
He must be outside on the back deck. I can hear Elijah in the background and the sharp, happy yips of their two-year-old golden retriever, Buddy.
“What? No.”
He sighs in relief. “I didn’t mean to pressure you into doing something you’re not ready for.”
“You didn’t.”
A beat of silence, then, “So…”
He’s fishing, but I’m not going to make it easy for him. “So…”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
I can hear his eye roll. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”
“Okay.”
“Liz! You better tell me!”
I’m laughing. “You just told me not to.”
“Grant said Fallon was at the house last night.” His playful tone of voice says that’s not all Grant told him.
“He was.”
Julien huffs good-humoredly. “I forget how evil you can be sometimes. Just tell me one thing. Are you good?”
I get up and pace to the window. Opening the reclaimed wood shutters, I gaze across the backyard to the lone magnolia tree at the bottom of the hill. “Very.”
“I love Fallon, but if he hurts you?—”
I turn away from the view. “I’m actually glad you called. Have you, um…have you heard from Jayson?” I ask as I gnaw on my thumbnail, a nervous habit I can’t seem to break.
“No. Why?”
I wish I knew what their fight was about last year. It must have been really bad for Julien to cut off all ties with his twin brother. Trying to get him to tell me has been met with a brick wall of absolute avoidance.
“He showed up at the house last night.”
I wince at Julien’s thunderous vocal barrage of curse words that would earn my children an instant grounding if I ever heard them coming out of their mouths.
A door slams. “What the fuck did he say to you?”
“That he was sorry.” But it’s what he didn’t say that worries me.
“Why now?”
“I don’t know.” But, hopefully, I can get some answers when I see him later.
“I’ve got to go.” Julien abruptly hangs up, and I immediately text him.
Me: I’m meeting him after lunch. Please let me talk to him first before you storm off to find him.
When he doesn’t reply back, I berate my stupid mouth for saying anything. Dammit .