Chapter Eighteen #2
Bags of yard cuttings were piled up on the curb. Broken tree branches, sawed into smaller pieces and tied up with string, sat on the ground next to them. She patted the post of the FOR SALE sign Suzi had brought over earlier.
“Connor”—she handed him soda—“you’ve worked miracles out here.” The front yard looked so good—no more weeds in the garden and the grass was cut.
“Can’t take all the credit, Devon is making up for lost time.” They looked over to where Devon he was tilling the newly weeded soil.
“Devon. Catch.” She threw the bottle of water he had asked for straight to him.
Eric and Dred were up two different ladders installing a new gutter along the front of the house. Devon had brought the second ladder when he had arrived.
Drea walked around the back. New posts and panels replaced the damaged ones. As with the front garden, yard waste was piled up in bags. Cujo and Trent grappled with a tree they’d cut down to a stump. Both were shirtless and were forcing shovels into the hard earth to cut the root ball.
“Overwhelming, isn’t it?” Harper stood beside her.
“The level of testosterone in this yard?” She looked at Harper and laughed.
“Well, yes, that, obviously … but all of it … having a big family.”
Drea nodded, tears stinging her eyes. Harper wrapped her arms around her. A huge testament to how far Harper had come from the abused and scarred woman she’d been two years before.
“I’m sorry, Drea. I never realized how tough things were for you. Too caught up in my own shit.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I didn’t really want anyone to know how bad it had become. And you were clearly dealing with your own stuff. I wanted to be there for you.”
“Still, I could have helped more. I feel like a crappy friend.”
“You know, my parents never wanted me around. I’d be consigned to my room.
My mom was so wrapped up in him, they’d forgotten about me.
I’d make my own meals. Get ready for school by myself.
Hell, sometimes I’d even leave to go to school and nobody would notice.
” She thought back to her first day of school when she’d begged Mrs. Hernandes to help her cross the street.
“Oh, Drea. No child should have to go through that.”
“I’d watch other parents drop their kids off, kiss them at the gate.” Drea took a deep breath. “I just got used to doing everything by myself.”
“The irony,” Drea continued, “was that when Dad left, I was so used to looking after myself, Mom just let me continue. She’d curse at me occasionally, blame me for Dad leaving. And I let her because I didn’t understand there was absolutely nothing I could have done to change it.”
“Why didn’t you leave?” Harper leaned up against the post at the top of the steps. “I mean, when you were old enough.”
“I guess I hoped looking after her would somehow change our relationship. Maybe she’d value me a little even if she couldn’t love me.”
“You do realize none of this is really about you?” Harper leaned forward, her green eyes narrowed. “How you grew up was all about your parents and their stuff. No part of you was lacking in any way.”
Harpers words twisted their way through the construct she’d built in her head. It wasn’t her. It was them.
“I’m starting to realize it’s okay to ask for help. It’s crazy how everybody is here.”
Cujo caught her eye. He said something to Trent, who stopped digging.
“People care about you. And for what it’s worth, I think he’d do anything for you.” Harper giggled.
“God, they look hot without their shirts on.”
“They could do a calendar or something. I’d buy it.”
“See something you like, Shortcake?” Cujo grabbed her off the step.
“Urgh, get off me … you smell gross.”
Cujo laughed and carried her to his truck and popped her down on the open tailgate. Cujo settled between her legs. “C’mon babe, you love it when I’m all hot and sweaty.” His eyes dropped to her breasts. “Cute T-shirt, Shortcake. Love the view.”
Drea shook her head. “You’re crazy.”
He encircled her waist, then pulled her up against him, hugging her close. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and focused on resisting the urge to kiss his neck.
“I overheard you talking to Harper,” he said, stroking her back in wide circles. “Have I told you how proud I am of you?”
“Why would you be proud of me? I hurt you. I hurt us.”
“That’s just one moment in our history. It won’t define us. I’m proud of you because you’ve persevered. I could never have done that on my own like you have.”
“I was a mess, Brody. I am a mess, but I’m working on it. I started seeing a therapist a couple of days ago.” Marlene had been wonderful, and even though it was only the first session, she’d come away feeling better and more positive about the future.
“See, reason two hundred and seventy-two of why I am proud of you.”
Drea pulled back and looked at him. She studied the stubble gracing his chin, the set of his shoulders, the way he licked his bottom lip. She saved his eyes for last. The honesty in them was breathtaking.
“I missed you, Brody,” she whispered.
Cujo wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and rested his forehead against hers. She could feel the restraint in the set of his arms. He wanted more but would never take it.
Drea turned her face upward, and brushed her lips against his. Cujo gasped, but didn’t respond. She tried again, gently running her tongue along the seam of his lips, and they opened softly. “Kiss me, Brody.”
“Be sure,” he groaned.
“I’m sure,” she gasped as he pulled her to the end of the truck and pressed up tightly against her. Nothing could have prepared her for the onslaught. Cujo’s hands were in her hair, then up and down her back before gripping her hips. His tongue fought its way into her mouth as he devoured her.
He pushed her back onto the truck bed and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Perhaps their friends could see.
Definitely the nosy Mrs. Hernandes, who was likely on her porch right now saying a Hail Mary for Drea’s soul, but Drea didn’t give a shit.
She fell into the kiss and took everything Cujo was willing to give her.
“Fuck, Drea, I missed you, too,” he said breathlessly, resting his head on her shoulder.
Wrapping her arms around him, she savored the warmth and security he gave her.
“Please tell me that wasn’t a mistake,” he said.
“It wasn’t, but I don’t think I’m going to be the same person at the end of therapy. What if you feel different too? The therapist said working through all this could take months.”
“Drea, I love who you were before. I love who you are right now. I’m gonna love you ten years from now. I hope you’re not the same, because it means we’ve grown. I just want to be the one who gets to do it with you.”
“Oh, Brody. I love you. That was beautiful.”
“No, you are.”
Drea gazed up at him. “You going soft on me, Brody?”
Cujo shrugged, a mischievous smile on his face. “Maybe, Shortcake. But I can get hard again in about thirty seconds if you let me keep staring down that T-shirt.”
* * *
Cujo stepped out of the truck, rounded the cab, and opened Drea’s door.
The shocked look on her face was worth the last-minute planning and the two-hour drive.
His only instructions: pack light, dress comfortably, and wear shoes for hiking.
She chose yoga pants, which made it incredibly hard to keep his hands off her ass, and a soft gray sweater that looked more like a blanket.
Tall palms dwarfed the green cottage. A light breeze shushed through the short bushes and grasses buffering the property.
It had been a couple of days since they’d kissed on the truck.
Work had gotten in the way since, and he was following Drea’s lead of taking it slow.
He understood her reservations about the timing.
When Drea had mentioned she needed to be out of the house for some realtor visits, he’d come up with the idea of surprising her with a trip.
With help from José, he’d booked Drea’s time off without her knowledge.
Momentarily speechless, Drea’s eyes flitted from him to the cabin’s welcoming porch complete with two solid wooden chairs, perfect for a lazy evening with a glass or two of the wine he’d packed in the truck.
The cottage was picture-perfect, even down to the pretty pink flowers with leafy green tendrils wrapped around the porch pillars.
The weather cooperated. With a clear sky, light breeze, and a temperature hovering around eighty, it was the perfect day to take her out on the water or go for a hike.
“Are we staying here?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cujo moved behind her, sliding his hands around her waist, pulling her tight against him. Just two nights. We’ll head back early on Friday morning for work.”
“Really, a whole two days of doing nothing?”
He’d been thinking how despite all the craziness, the two of them were really good. That, and the fact he wasn’t ready to talk with his mom.
“Mmm-hmm,” he murmured, nuzzling the side of her neck. Strawberries. Fuck, she made him all kinds of hungry. His hand crept up to her breast, brushed the firm underside of it with his fingers, and teased her nipple with his thumb. She wiggled, rubbing against his erection.
“Keep it up, Shortcake, and we’ll never see the outside of this place.” Christ, he wanted her, to test his make-up sex theory. They’d not got much further than some seriously heavy kissing and wandering hands since they’d got back together, but he planned to change that tonight.
“Would that be so bad?”
“No, but anticipation is a wonderful thing, Shortcake. Plus, we’d miss hiking in Big Cypress National Park.
Ten Thousand Islands is just over there.
” He pointed southwest of their spot. “And we can take a drive over to Fakahatchee.” He gripped her hips then, relocated her tempting ass a few inches away from his pant zipper, which was currently imprinting metal teeth marks onto his dick.