The Boy I Grew Up With
Page 25
The crew.
The sister.
The town.
Then maybe me.
And I was an ungrateful bitch for not being okay with all of that.
I sat up, resting my soaked cheek against his back. “You and I don’t talk about feelings and shit, but maybe we should.”
He turned around, grabbed my shoulders, and lifted me to his lap. He was so strong. I parted my legs, sinking down on top of him, and he stared right at me.
I saw his pain, his regrets, his indecision. They were usually masked by cockiness, jokes, innuendos, and anything flashy and charming, but not tonight. And despite myself, I felt my love for him blooming inside of me again.
I raised a hand to rest against the side of his face. He closed his eyes, leaning into my palm.
His hand rounded over my hip, tugging me closer. “We’ve got shitstorms upon shitstorms of feelings inside of us. You sure you want to start dealing with them?” His eyes opened. He was watching me.
No.
My answer was immediate. That wasn’t us, but I was a mess without him.
Hot and cold. Fire and ice. Oil and vinegar. We were all of that, but we were also the second half to the other.
I answered honestly. “I don’t want to, but I think we have to.”
He nodded, his eyes heavy and lidded. “Okay.”
I nodded too. “Okay.”
His hand slid over my thigh and dipped between my legs. “Do you realize how hot you are when you’re all pissed?”
I smiled, not answering.
He smiled back at me. “Can we start sharing our emotions tomorrow and share something else tonight?”
Honestly.
This guy. I started to shake my head, not because he was incorrigible (which he was), not because this was the worst time ever (which it was), but because I was going to give in (which I totally was), and I knew I would have no regrets.
Like always, I kissed him.
Who cared about the stupid reopening?
Nothing else mattered, and not for a long time after.
20
Heather
“Are we together again?” I asked. “And I mean together together, you know? Not just together like we always are, but together together. That kind of together.”
Channing smiled next to my breast, and I nudged him hard.
“Ow.” He sat up, rubbing his head with that annoying grin.
“You're not funny.”
His hand dropped to the bed, like I’d offended him. “I beg to differ. I'm hilarious.”
“You’re not Logan Kade funny.”
He snorted. “Logan's got nothing on me. People who don't even know me know Logan's got nothing on me. That's how much Logan's got nothing on me.” He was deadpan, but then a smirk popped out.
Channing could huff and puff all he wanted, but he was the one in this bed who loved Logan. Their bromance had reached new levels. He’d always had one with Mason, but on a recent trip, Logan and Channing had bonded over their love of burritos. Once I heard that, I didn’t want to hear anything else about it.
“Speaking of the Kades…” Channing lay back down, but this time he pulled me to his chest, his arm curving around me. “Have you talked to your friend lately?”
I thought back to the quick video chat from my office the other day.
“She’s happy and pregnant. Have you talked to Mason?”
“He sent a text the other day. Sounds like things are good with them. He’s busy with football and getting ready for the baby.”
The baby.
Rolling to my feet, I sat on the edge of the bed, naked, with the sheet around my waist. I was about to stand up when Channing touched my arm. “Hey.”
I glanced back over my shoulder.
The cocky humor was gone. “We should talk about her.”
I stiffened. “About Sam?”
He frowned. “You know who I’m talking about.”
We’d named her, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
“Not now.” Good God, not now. Not when my throat was burning, when my chest felt like it was going to cave in and squeeze my heart until it shattered. Not when it was all I could do to keep from turning my house upside down, looking for a pack to smoke.
The sex had helped distract me. We’d kept at it hard most the night, but it was six in the morning now, and I was ready to run a marathon. Talk about understanding Sam on a whole new level—I could’ve strapped on some sneakers and taken off, just like her.
Slipping into the bathroom, I showered and dressed. Manny’s was already open, but I still wanted to go over and check in. Channing got the coffee pot going. He was at the stove when I padded downstairs. I could smell the fresh coffee and whatever he was making.
It smelled good, but damn, not as good as he looked—barefoot, no shirt, his hair still messed from the last time I ran my hands through it. His jeans had fallen low on his hips, and his entire back was like a sculpted statue. He’d added more tattoos, so they ran up and over his shoulder, then down his back. One went under his arm and wrapped to his backside. As he stirred something on the stove, I saw the skull and bones tattoo he’d put under his bicep. Even though he claimed to hate his father, Channing also had a sense of obligation to the man. He loved him too, and I know it tortured him at times. After one of his last visits to the prison, he’d gone off with Moose, and they’d both come back with the same tattoo. I hadn’t asked, but I’d always figured it had something to do with his dad.
Going up behind Channing, I ran my finger over one of the bone tattoos and realized there was a word over it.
I paused, and he tensed.
It wasn’t a word. It was a name. “You put her name here?”
He hadn’t told me.
My mind spun. I felt those tears again. For fuck’s sake.
A ball lodged smack in the middle of my throat, and I couldn’t talk for a second.
Naly.
I traced the N. Channing stood stock-still, not even breathing.
A.
My hand skimmed down his back, falling to my side. “I didn’t know you did that.”
He turned, putting his hands on the counter behind him, but his eyes remained locked on me.
“You didn’t want to talk about her, and I didn’t want to forget her,” he said.
“When?”
He lifted a shoulder, his gaze falling away. “A few months ago. After my last fight.”
“For the underground ring?”
He nodded, his eyes flicking back up. “It was the same night I decided I was retiring. I won the championship, and I was drunk. Linc does tattoos, and we were celebrating, so…” Another shrug. “I did it.”
I burned with jealousy again, but not for Sam. “Do the guys know her name?” We hadn’t told anyone.
He shook his head. “I told them it was code for retiring from the ring.” He laughed under his breath. “They still think that.”
God. I wanted her back. I wanted to be holding her again. I didn’t want her name just on him.
“I want it too. Today.”
“Today?” He didn’t look surprised, but he raised an eyebrow.
I moved in front of him, tracing the LY I could see on his arm. “Yes. You can go check on Bren before school. I’ll make sure Manny’s is okay, and then after that.”
“Okay.”
His chest lifted as he took a breath and skimmed a hand down my arm, curving to my back. He tugged me close and bent down, grazing a kiss to my shoulder. “Can we skip whatever else we have to fight about and just be together? I’ve really, really missed you.”
The sister.
The town.
Then maybe me.
And I was an ungrateful bitch for not being okay with all of that.
I sat up, resting my soaked cheek against his back. “You and I don’t talk about feelings and shit, but maybe we should.”
He turned around, grabbed my shoulders, and lifted me to his lap. He was so strong. I parted my legs, sinking down on top of him, and he stared right at me.
I saw his pain, his regrets, his indecision. They were usually masked by cockiness, jokes, innuendos, and anything flashy and charming, but not tonight. And despite myself, I felt my love for him blooming inside of me again.
I raised a hand to rest against the side of his face. He closed his eyes, leaning into my palm.
His hand rounded over my hip, tugging me closer. “We’ve got shitstorms upon shitstorms of feelings inside of us. You sure you want to start dealing with them?” His eyes opened. He was watching me.
No.
My answer was immediate. That wasn’t us, but I was a mess without him.
Hot and cold. Fire and ice. Oil and vinegar. We were all of that, but we were also the second half to the other.
I answered honestly. “I don’t want to, but I think we have to.”
He nodded, his eyes heavy and lidded. “Okay.”
I nodded too. “Okay.”
His hand slid over my thigh and dipped between my legs. “Do you realize how hot you are when you’re all pissed?”
I smiled, not answering.
He smiled back at me. “Can we start sharing our emotions tomorrow and share something else tonight?”
Honestly.
This guy. I started to shake my head, not because he was incorrigible (which he was), not because this was the worst time ever (which it was), but because I was going to give in (which I totally was), and I knew I would have no regrets.
Like always, I kissed him.
Who cared about the stupid reopening?
Nothing else mattered, and not for a long time after.
20
Heather
“Are we together again?” I asked. “And I mean together together, you know? Not just together like we always are, but together together. That kind of together.”
Channing smiled next to my breast, and I nudged him hard.
“Ow.” He sat up, rubbing his head with that annoying grin.
“You're not funny.”
His hand dropped to the bed, like I’d offended him. “I beg to differ. I'm hilarious.”
“You’re not Logan Kade funny.”
He snorted. “Logan's got nothing on me. People who don't even know me know Logan's got nothing on me. That's how much Logan's got nothing on me.” He was deadpan, but then a smirk popped out.
Channing could huff and puff all he wanted, but he was the one in this bed who loved Logan. Their bromance had reached new levels. He’d always had one with Mason, but on a recent trip, Logan and Channing had bonded over their love of burritos. Once I heard that, I didn’t want to hear anything else about it.
“Speaking of the Kades…” Channing lay back down, but this time he pulled me to his chest, his arm curving around me. “Have you talked to your friend lately?”
I thought back to the quick video chat from my office the other day.
“She’s happy and pregnant. Have you talked to Mason?”
“He sent a text the other day. Sounds like things are good with them. He’s busy with football and getting ready for the baby.”
The baby.
Rolling to my feet, I sat on the edge of the bed, naked, with the sheet around my waist. I was about to stand up when Channing touched my arm. “Hey.”
I glanced back over my shoulder.
The cocky humor was gone. “We should talk about her.”
I stiffened. “About Sam?”
He frowned. “You know who I’m talking about.”
We’d named her, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
“Not now.” Good God, not now. Not when my throat was burning, when my chest felt like it was going to cave in and squeeze my heart until it shattered. Not when it was all I could do to keep from turning my house upside down, looking for a pack to smoke.
The sex had helped distract me. We’d kept at it hard most the night, but it was six in the morning now, and I was ready to run a marathon. Talk about understanding Sam on a whole new level—I could’ve strapped on some sneakers and taken off, just like her.
Slipping into the bathroom, I showered and dressed. Manny’s was already open, but I still wanted to go over and check in. Channing got the coffee pot going. He was at the stove when I padded downstairs. I could smell the fresh coffee and whatever he was making.
It smelled good, but damn, not as good as he looked—barefoot, no shirt, his hair still messed from the last time I ran my hands through it. His jeans had fallen low on his hips, and his entire back was like a sculpted statue. He’d added more tattoos, so they ran up and over his shoulder, then down his back. One went under his arm and wrapped to his backside. As he stirred something on the stove, I saw the skull and bones tattoo he’d put under his bicep. Even though he claimed to hate his father, Channing also had a sense of obligation to the man. He loved him too, and I know it tortured him at times. After one of his last visits to the prison, he’d gone off with Moose, and they’d both come back with the same tattoo. I hadn’t asked, but I’d always figured it had something to do with his dad.
Going up behind Channing, I ran my finger over one of the bone tattoos and realized there was a word over it.
I paused, and he tensed.
It wasn’t a word. It was a name. “You put her name here?”
He hadn’t told me.
My mind spun. I felt those tears again. For fuck’s sake.
A ball lodged smack in the middle of my throat, and I couldn’t talk for a second.
Naly.
I traced the N. Channing stood stock-still, not even breathing.
A.
My hand skimmed down his back, falling to my side. “I didn’t know you did that.”
He turned, putting his hands on the counter behind him, but his eyes remained locked on me.
“You didn’t want to talk about her, and I didn’t want to forget her,” he said.
“When?”
He lifted a shoulder, his gaze falling away. “A few months ago. After my last fight.”
“For the underground ring?”
He nodded, his eyes flicking back up. “It was the same night I decided I was retiring. I won the championship, and I was drunk. Linc does tattoos, and we were celebrating, so…” Another shrug. “I did it.”
I burned with jealousy again, but not for Sam. “Do the guys know her name?” We hadn’t told anyone.
He shook his head. “I told them it was code for retiring from the ring.” He laughed under his breath. “They still think that.”
God. I wanted her back. I wanted to be holding her again. I didn’t want her name just on him.
“I want it too. Today.”
“Today?” He didn’t look surprised, but he raised an eyebrow.
I moved in front of him, tracing the LY I could see on his arm. “Yes. You can go check on Bren before school. I’ll make sure Manny’s is okay, and then after that.”
“Okay.”
His chest lifted as he took a breath and skimmed a hand down my arm, curving to my back. He tugged me close and bent down, grazing a kiss to my shoulder. “Can we skip whatever else we have to fight about and just be together? I’ve really, really missed you.”
