Toward the Sound of Chaos (20 page)

I
nod and hand him the blanket and pillow, and then I push past him down the hall
and quietly close the bedroom door behind me. I shower, wash my hair, and brush
my teeth, and as I slip on the pale pink negligee that I know Jake liked so
much, I climb into bed and hope like hell that Spence is okay and sleeps
through the night.

When
I switch out the light and pull the covers over me, I break down again. I cry
for my little boy, for the man sleeping on my couch, for the man I married
whose body was shipped back to his mother in Charleston after the autopsy was
carried out, and for Mr. Williams, who sacrificed however many years he had
left to make sure Spencer and I were safe. And just when I think my tears
should run dry, I cry for me, because I’m so damn tired of being strong, of
rolling with the punches and picking myself up when I fall. I cry because the
only man I ever loved who was worthy of it can’t be the one to pick me up. He’s
too busy fitting the broken pieces of himself back together.

Jake

A
s
Elle showers, I listen from the hall. I’d give anything to go to her now, to
climb into that too small shower recess with her and take care of her, before
putting her to bed. Instead, I walk back to the couch and stretch out on it.
I’m too big to be comfortable, of course. My legs hang over the edge and when
Nuke growls and jumps up on top of me, burrowing in between me and the back of
the sofa, I wonder whether it wouldn’t just be easier to sleep on the floor.

Not
that I think I’ll be gettin’ much sleeping done. For one, I don’t want Elle
waking in the middle of the night to my screams; she’s been through enough
today. It’s part of the reason I wanted to be here for her. Death is one
thing—seeing a man blow his own head off in front of you is entirely another.
That shit stays with you. Not to mention the fact that not two seconds
afterward she saw her son get tossed across the pavement like a hackey sack.

I
stare up at the ceiling and make a mental note to reseal those corner
architraves for her before winter sets in, otherwise this room will be too
drafty. Though I try not to, I do doze a little, and then I get up and find my
feet, walking the hall to her room. I tell myself it’s just to check on the
house, but that logic flies right out the window when I turn the knob and find
the door unlocked.

Entering
the room as silently as I can, I watch her for a beat. Her face is turned away
from me. Moonlight spills in through the lace curtains, drenching the end of
the bed and silhouetting her body in a slither of pale silver light. My fingers
ache to touch her.

I
sit down on the floor, my back against the door, and I watch her sleep. Before
long she rolls over, facing me. In my mind I trace the curve of her breast and
her cheekbone, and run my fingers through her long golden hair. I miss the way
it smells. I miss the drape of it across my chest as she lay with me. I miss
pancakes and sticky kisses and the way her fucking perfect body had moved
beneath me when I’d buried myself balls deep. I miss her lips pressed to my
scars, and the way she made a broken man feel complete.

I
sigh softly, and she jolts. I can’t see her face properly but I think she’s
awake, which means I just got sprung. I close my eyes, waiting for the
onslaught, waiting for her to tell me I’m a freak and a pervert and I should
leave and never come back.

“Jake?”
she says softly.

“I’m
sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What
are you doing in here?”

I
shrug, though I know she probably can’t see it from the bed. “Couldn’t sleep.”

It’s
her turn to sigh. “How long have you been here?”

“You
know the only time I ever found any peace was when I was lying next to you.” I
get to my feet. “I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep, angel.”

She
pulls the sheet back, exposing her soft, milky white thighs in the moonlight.
From here it looks as if she’s wearing my favorite little pink negligee. My
dick could have done without this discovery because it hardens in my jeans. I
stare at the bed and think too much about whether to accept the boon she’s
offering me.

“Are
you waitin’ on a written invitation, Jake?” she teases.

I
cross the distance between the door and the bed with two quick strides,
climbing in beside her. We face one another, and she places her hand against my
chest. A part of me wants to strip off my clothes, shed them like skin in order
to be closer, but I’m already walkin’ a fine line as it is. She traces a
pattern over my covered torso, up my shoulder and down my arm, and it’s as if
every line she draws with her fingertip is a burn, another scar laid upon my
mutilated flesh. I’ve never felt so complete, yet so tortured.

Her
hand snakes under my T-shirt, circling the brand on my side and then gliding up
to the scars on my chest. I angle my head back so that her fingers can follow
the line the whole way. She rolls on top of me, pushing up the hem of my shirt.
I help her pull it over my head, and she releases a heavy breath as she settles
in my lap.

My
cock strains against her softness. I slide my hands along her thighs and under
her negligee. She’s not wearing any panties, and I groan when my hands are met
with no resistance and instead glide over smooth, slick flesh.

Ellie
rocks into my touch. I stroke faster, knowing what she needs without her having
to verbalize it, and within just a few moments she comes against my hand. With
her head thrown back and her body bowed, she rides out the sensation and I sit
up, my free hand going into her hair to draw her mouth down on mine. I’m
already covered in sweat, and every part of me is rock hard and longing to get
closer, to push into her softness. I roll us so that I’m on top and I spread
her legs apart, wanting to taste the sweetness between them. I skim my lips
along her thighs, over the mound of her pubic bone and down the other leg,
avoiding the place I know she wants me most. Even though she just came, she’s
already greedy and panting for more. She squirms against my wandering mouth
until I come back to her center.

“Please,
Jake,” she whispers, and I can’t help it, I give in to her because in my
thirty-two years I’ve never heard a sweeter sound than her begging for my
mouth.

I
close my lips over her. Elle’s hands grip my hair as I coat my fingers in her
wetness and ease inside so slowly she writhes and pushes her hips up
impatiently.

“Be
still, angel.”

I’ve
always been gentle with her, letting her set the pace because I thought she
needed that. Hell, I needed that. Both times she saw me naked I was certain
she’d go running in the opposite direction, so while a part of me longed to
take her and fuck her hard and be the kind of man I’d always been with a woman
before war changed me, I’d hesitated because I was still waiting for the
universe to sweep the rug out from underneath me and take her away. To dangle
her like bait on a hook and then tell me I couldn’t bite.

Tonight,
I want to bite. I need to. I pull my fingers out all the way and slam back
inside. Ellie’s breath catches in her throat so I do it again. Then I lower my
head and take her in my mouth, licking and sucking all that rosy pink flesh
until she comes against my tongue and her walls squeeze my fingers like a vice.

As
she bathes in the afterglow, I lift up off the bed and remove my jeans, and
then I climb over her and slide the head of my cock through her slickness. We
should use a condom. I know she hasn’t slept with anyone in a long time, and
I’m clean, but we shouldn’t tempt fate like this. We’ve done it twice already.

“Elle,
we should use—”

“I
know,” she pants, raising herself up to kiss me feverishly. “I know . . . I
know and I don’t care. Please, Jake, I need to feel you inside me.”

Her
hand takes hold of my cock and strokes the base as she rubs the head against
her smooth flesh. I groan and push her back on the bed, and then I plunge
inside and fuck her the way I’ve fantasized about. I take every inch of her as
mine, because she belongs to me, and I’m not ever gonna let her forget it. I’m
not ever gonna let her go again.

I’ve
fallen in love with this woman, in spite of her smart mouth and wicked temper,
or maybe because of them. Ellie Mason is the first woman I’ve ever loved, and
I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let her slip through my fingers again.

Ellie

I
’d
woken to what felt like the mother of all hangovers, and God do I wish I’d
actually been drinking, because I sure could use a good excuse for letting Jake
Tucker back in my bed. Memaw used to say, “Never make important decisions when
you’re drunk or emotionally distraught.” I wish I’d taken heed of that
particular piece of advice last night because it’d been tough trying to sneak
out from under Jake’s arms without waking him this morning.

Yes,
I know. I shouldn’t have invited him into my bed in the first place, but I make
bad decision after bad decision where this man is concerned, and I can’t seem
to help myself. I’d been vulnerable, and I’d felt scared and alone, and Jake
had filled the void that had been yawning wider and wider inside me since the
day I’d left my husband. Maybe even before that, if I’m being honest with
myself.

So,
this morning I did what any adult wanting to escape bad decisions from the
night before would have. I ran. Right to the dresser to pick out clothes, and
then to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and then out the door and into my car,
which led me to the hospital to see my son.

Spence
is awake when I walk in, but he isn’t afraid as I feared he’d be. The nurse
said he hadn’t even asked for me, which is both baffling and a little hurtful,
but when I see that the television above his bed is on and his mesmerized
little eyes are glued to the early-morning cartoons, I understand why.

“Hi,
baby.”

“I’m
not a baby.”

“No
you aren’t.” I sigh, almost wishing I could go back to that time, when he was
too little to fuss when I touched him. “How are you feeling?”

He
shrugs. Taking the seat beside him, I pull the plastic cover off his untouched
breakfast, pick up the spoon, and feed him bites of Cheerios. To my surprise he
lets me, but I think it’s more to do with the fact that he’s really focused on
SpongeBob
SquarePants
. I barely even garnered a look before his eyes swung right back
to the TV.

When
he’s finished, and he’s had a little juice to wash it down, I stare longingly
at his hand lying on the bed. I don’t dare grab it, because I know he wouldn’t
like that. Instead, I sit back in my seat and close my eyes, smiling at his
tinkly little laugh.

“Mamma?”

I
open my eyes to find a serious expression on his face. “Yeah, Spence?”

“Mr.
Williams shot himself, didn’t he?”

I
pause, not ready for this conversation, but knowing we have to have it all the
same. Williams’s slumped body bleeding all over the floor comes unbidden into
my mind, and I squeeze my eyes tightly closed in order to shake the vision from
my head.

I
nod, open my eyes and try to not be
somewhere else right now
because my
son needs me. “He did.”

His
eyes fill with tears, and my heart breaks all over again. “Why would he do
that?”

Oh
boy
. Leave it to my son to pose the difficult
questions. “Mr. Williams did something very wrong. He did it for the right
reasons, but that choice wasn’t up to him to make.”

“I
read his letter. Did he kill my daddy?”

Tears
fall from my eyes. “Yes, Mr. Williams did a bad thing to keep you and I safe.”

“Mamma,
I’m gonna miss him, but I’m glad I don’t have to see you hurt no more.” With
those words from his mouth, everything just deflates within me and I stand up,
unable to deal with sobbing in front of my son. “Mamma, you think Jake can be
my daddy now?”

“No,
Spencer, I don’t.” I’m too raw, too exposed, and I can’t answer these questions
without feeling like my heart has been ripped right out of my chest, because I
let my son down. I let Jake Tucker into our lives. I got Spencer’s hopes up
that Jake could be something to us that he doesn’t know how to be, and I
haven’t just broken my heart in the process—I’ve broken my son’s, too.

Spencer
turns back to his cartoons and I slowly walk to the bathroom. Once there, I try
to keep it together, but it all comes flooding out anyway. I swear I must cry
for a good ten minutes, and then I spend far too long trying to calm my blotchy
skin so Spence won’t know I’ve been upset. I take an extra moment away to run
down to the cafeteria and grab myself a coffee, and by the time I get back,
Spence has a visitor.

 “Are
you gonna marry my mamma?” Spence says, as usual having no tact or awareness of
social interaction whatsoever.

“Er
. . .” Jake exhales loudly.

“Do
you love her?”

“Spencer,”
I admonish as I walk into the room, not willing to hear any more because I’m
terrified of the answer. Last night was a mistake. I can’t fix Jake. Maybe the
lesson here is that I was never meant to. We collided at a time when we needed
one another most, but that don’t mean it was right. I already loved one man who
destroyed me. I’m afraid if I let someone in again, if I give Jake my whole
heart, he’ll break what’s left of it.

“There
you are.” Jake gives me a stern look. “You left this morning without waking
me.”

Spencer
frowns. “Jake had a sleepover without me?”

“Someone
had to keep your mamma company,” Jake says. “She was worried sick about you.”

My
son’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree as he asks, “Can Jake have a
sleepover when I get better?”

“I
don’t know, Spence.” I glare at Jake and say through my teeth, “Can I talk to
you?”

He
nods, and turns to Spencer. “Be right back.”

I
storm out of the room and down the hall, not stopping until we’re both inside
the area they reserve for parents to take time out, shower, and make a coffee,
or to sit and eat breakfast. I reel on him the second the door closes behind
us. “What are you doing?”

Jake
looks behind me. I turn and find a man at the table, sipping coffee from a
paper cup and reading a newspaper. We both stare at him and he says, “I’ll just
. . . go.”

I
watch him leave and then turn my gaze back to Jake. “Why are you here?”

He
reaches out to draw me into his waist, but I shrink back. “Elle?”

“I
can’t do this with you. Not right now.” I run a hand through my hair. It’s
probably as messy as my life right now. “I need to focus on my son, not be
distracted by you.”

He
takes a deep breath in through his nose, as if he’s internally schooling
himself on the virtue of patience. “Right, so last night was a distraction?
That why you ran out on me first thing?”

“I
needed to be here for Spencer.”

Jake
gives me a dark look. “If you’d have woken me we could have come together.”

“What
kind of message do you think that sends to him? Telling him you slept over? How
am I supposed to explain that?”

“I’m
pretty sure I just did. The only one who seems to have a problem with it is
you, which is funny, considering you’re the one who invited me into your bed
last night.” His tone gets louder and a muscle in his jaw pops out. “So maybe
you need to explain it to me.”

“Last
night was a mistake, Jake.”

“Bullshit,”
he hisses.

“I
shouldn’t have invited you to stay.”

“I’m
tryin’ real hard, real damn hard not to lose my shit here, but you’re making it
near impossible, angel.”

“Please
stop callin’ me that,” I say, and I wish I hadn’t because his blue eyes turn
the darkest sapphire with his anger. “I don’t wanna do this here. I just need
some time okay?”

“Why?
So you can fill that pretty head of yours with more excuses about why givin’
yourself to me ain’t a good idea? It’s a little late for that. Several fuckin’
months too late.”

“Jake,
please?”

“No,
you got a good reason why we shouldn’t be together, you speak the fuck up right
now. Short of that, I don’t see me giving you any time to sort through this
bullshit.” He takes a step closer, and I move back several paces but he just
keeps coming, until he pens me in against the refrigerator door. He leans in,
and in a bitter whisper, he says, “You know for an intelligent woman you’re acting
about as dumb as dog shit right now.”

“I
don’t trust you,” I sneer, shoving him back a step. “That’s my reason.”

“What
the fuck are you talking about? You don’t trust me, but you give me your body,
you let me inside you when it’s convenient, when you need someone to hold you
and take the hurt away? How exactly is that not trustin’ me?”

“I
don’t trust that you won’t hurt us. I don’t trust that you won’t drink again
and hurt me the way you did last week, and I don’t trust that you won’t kill
yourself and leave us both heartbroken,” I scream.

Jake
reels back like I just dealt him a physical blow. I stalk by him, but he grabs
my arm and yanks me back. “If I’m with you, I ain’t got nothing to put a bullet
in my head for. I know that’s not fair of me to say, but it’s the truth. I’m
trying real hard to be the kinda man you deserve, angel, but it takes time, and
I need you to know that it ain’t gonna be easy. I seen and done a lotta shit
that I wish I hadn’t, and you know the only thing I keep coming back to? It’s you
and that boy in there. That’s all I got right now. That’s why I didn’t die in
that godforsaken desert. Don’t take that away from me.”

I
wrench out of his hands and walk to the door, pausing with my back to him. “We
can’t be the reason you stick, Jake. That isn’t fair to Spence or to me,
because what happens if you don’t? Don’t put that back on me. Don’t make me
your reason to decide whether or not to stay on this earth.”

I
leave and don’t look back, because I’m afraid if I do everything I just said to
him will be for nothing. I don’t want to walk away, but he’s left me no choice.
I love this man with all my heart, but he was right before—it was stupid. No
matter which path I choose Jake Tucker is going to break my heart, because no
matter how much we might want them to, some stories don’t end in a
happily-ever-after.