At Peace

Page 105

I took those steps back forward again (and then some), getting right into his space and stated, “Yeah, we need to talk about that too.”
“Don’t feed me some shit about you not wanting it. You were awake when I got up this mornin’, you didn’t give me shit, you didn’t say a f**kin’ word, so don’t try and bullshit me.”
How did he know that? He was such a pain in the ass!
“I didn’t want a scene in front of the girls.”
“You wanted me to come back.”
Yes, a total pain in the ass.
“I did not!” I yelled.
Then he moved fast and I retreated just as fast but hit wall and he came in close, his hands at the wall by my head, fencing me in.
“Step back,” I hissed.
“You’re mine, Vi.” he said and the way he said it, I focused on his face.
Very scary. Sinister. And definitely serious.
Joe Callahan was not a man to be f**ked with, this I knew and if I didn’t his voice and his face right then would have proved it.
“You let him touch you, it’ll piss me off,” he threatened.
“Mike and I are together,” I whispered.
“Don’t play that game with me or with him.”
“Step back,” I repeated.
“I’m warnin’ you, buddy, don’t play that game.”
I shook my head and pleaded, “Joe, please, step back. I do not need this shit.”
“Then don’t force it.”
“May I remind you, my brother just died!” I cried.
“Yeah, you lose this attitude, I can help you work that hurt out.”
Who was this man? He held onto his tragedy for seventeen f**king years, how could he stand there and tell me he could help me work through mine?
“Really, Joe? Like you helped me work out my grief at losing Tim?” I asked sarcastically.
“That’s not what I was offerin’, buddy, but you want it like that I’ll give it to you.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I snapped.
“I’m yours.”
That socked me in the gut too, so hard it winded me and all I could do was stare up at him.
Taking advantage, his face dipped close and his hands curled around both sides of my head.
“First f**kin’ time you smiled at me in my bed, that’s when it happened,” he murmured.
“Joe –”
“You’re under my skin.”
“Please –”
“I’m under yours.”
I shook my head and his face got even closer, all I could see were his sky blue eyes, all I could feel were his lips a breath away from mine.
“I like you there, buddy, and you like me there too. Cut Mike loose.”
“You can’t belong to anyone. You’re Joe Callahan, a one-woman man. The only one you ever belonged to was Bonnie and she’s still got hold of you and always will no matter how f**ked up, crazy sad that was.”
His hands tightened on my head and he said, “Don’t listen to ‘burg lore. It’s shit.”
“You held onto it for seventeen years,” I pointed out.
“She killed my son,” he replied and my heart lurched.
“I know,” I whispered and my hands went to his waist, wanting to touch him, needing it, after he said those words, and doing it because I was crazy insane.
“You help me let that go, baby, I help you with Sam.”
I shook my head but my hands clenched his tee at his sides. “I can’t go back there again with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know when you’ll turn.”
“Buddy –”
“You’ve done it to me twice.”
“Vi –”
“And you’ve done it to the girls once.”
I watched him close his eyes, knowing I’d scored a point and not feeling the least bit happy about it. But something was happening here and for me, and my girls, I had to do right this time.
So I pushed the knife in deeper. “Me, okay Joe, but not my girls.”
He opened his eyes and locked them with mine.
“You feel it, I know you do. You know it isn’t done.”
“It has to be.”
“It isn’t. It won’t ever be.”
“It is, Joe.”
He didn’t respond, just stared into my eyes.
Then his mouth moved until it was touching mine.
Just with that touch, not even a kiss, my body went soft, my hands quit clenching his shirt and slid around to his back and a whimper glided out of my throat.
“Tell yourself that, baby. But, look at you,” he murmured, his voice gentle not gloating, our eyes still locked, “you’re mine.”
Then his mouth went away but he bent his head, let mine go, kissed my neck and he walked away, out the door and I watched him through the window as he sauntered along my front walk to his house.
I stood there, pressed to the wall for a long time. It took awhile but I realized I was breathing heavily.
Then I slid down the wall, knees to my chest. I wrapped my arms around my calves and hugged myself tight.
Then I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and I called my girls.
They told me they were there, in the cabin, unpacked and Dane and his Dad had the boat in the water. The cabin was way cool and the lake was phenomenal. They were getting ready to go out on the boat and they sounded happy and excited.
I’d made the right decision, making them go. They had other things to think about, good things.
Sam would be glad.
When I was done talking, I slid my phone closed.
That’s what I needed, exactly what I needed.
It wouldn’t last long but it was something.
I got up off the floor and went to go get Mooch.
* * * * *
I sat wearing Mike’s t-shirt in Mike’s big bed, my ass to the mattress, my shoulders to the headboard, a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream melting in my hand.
Mike was stretched out beside me, on his side, head in hand, elbow in the pillow, eyes on me, wearing pajama bottoms and nothing else (he had a nice chest, unbelievable abs, the whole show leaner than Joe’s, not as bulky, not scarred, but still amazing).
Layla was lying flat out on her side at the end of the bed, Mooch curled in her chest. Both of them were passed out due to the fact that they’d spent the last four hours pretty much destroying Mike’s yard.
My cell was glued to my ear and Dane Gordon was whispering to me through it.
“She’d be mad, Miz Winters, me tellin’ you this.”