Wherever You Go Page 13

  He slipped the condom on as she wriggled out of her panties. He slid into her liquid heat.

  She rode him like he imagined her riding his Ferrari—fast and hard and skillfully.

  She reached behind her and stroked his balls. He thought he had died and gone directly to heaven, then wondered what the hell he had ever done to deserve this treatment.

  She screamed out, demanding that he come with her. Like a true gentleman, he obliged.

  After a few highly erotic pelvic rotations, followed by a full-body tightening, she collapsed on top of him. Her fruity perfume-scented hair filled his nostrils. He’d never forget the way she smelled. The way she tasted. The way her breasts felt pressed against his stomach. The way she moved against him, wringing every drop of pleasure from his body.

  He had to have this woman in his life.

  They landed back on the planet at the same moment.

  “Sorry,” he said, not thinking about the poor word choice until it had already been delivered.

  She lifted her head off his chest.

  “You’re sorry?”

  He fumbled for words to grasp through the tumultuous fog of desire she had created.

  She sat up a little more. How did she get that one eyebrow to go so high?

  “If you’re going to apologize, the least you could do is wipe that dopey grin off your face.”

  He reached for her, pulling her back into his arms. But no way could he erase the “dopey grin” from his face.

  He kissed the top of her head. “I meant to say that I’m sorry this happened on the kitchen floor. You deserved furniture.”

  She sighed and kissed his chest. “You say the sweetest things. I have to say, the kitchen floor has never been my goal, but I don’t regret it. I guess you’ll just have to show me if furniture could make the experience even better than it was.”

  “Is that a challenge?” He stroked her spine, loving how she pressed into him when he got to the curve at the base of her back.

  “Maybe.”

  He flipped her over, cradling her in his arm as he struggled to right himself. She laughed as he stood, holding on to her and only swaying a little.

  “If you drop me, I’ll sue,” she joked.

  “You think I’d drop you?”

  She shook her head slightly, biting the side of her bottom lip as she stared at his mouth.

  “I sure hope not.”

  He knew he was only a man and not always capable of understanding what a woman was saying, but he got the feeling she wasn’t talking about anything physical.

  He carried her to his bed and took his time loving every inch of her body.

  She incited passion in him, yes. But she also brought out his instinct to protect, and he had no idea why. She wasn’t vulnerable. She didn’t need a man to watch over her, to ward away evil. She was perfectly capable of doing that herself.

  But he wanted to be there. He wanted to hold her and love her after the end of the day. He wanted to lose himself in her magic. To forget the horrors he battled every day. To help her forget whatever made her eyes look sad before she carefully shielded them.

  Hours later, after each of them had given all they possibly could before surrendering to exhaustion, he watched her as she slept.

  With her face relaxed, she looked younger. Less worldly. More innocent.

  He smoothed the hair away from her face and smiled as she moaned, cuddling up closer to him.

  At that moment, wrapped in the warm glow of post-coital satisfaction, Asher wanted to give her the world.

  If only he didn’t already have everyone else pulling him into their circles of hell and needing rescuing from the person least able to rescue them.

  She rolled over in her sleep, and he snuggled up to her, kissing her neck and rubbing her upper thigh.

  She pushed her backside into his groin, nestling it in perfectly. He reacted instantly—ready and eager to fire up their engines and go for a joyride down the highway.

  He reached over to cup her breast, eager to bring her up to speed.

  She sighed a little as she brought her hand to cover his.

  “No?” he whispered in her ear, his voice ragged and desperate.

  She shook her head slightly. She clasped her fingers into his, squeezing them for a moment before she lifted his hand to meet her lips. She kissed his fingertip, and then slid out of the bed, away from him.

  The air turned frigid around him, and he lost his erection immediately. Something had shifted in her.

  Gone was the playful, sexy woman who had come willingly and eagerly to his bed and joined him for several rounds of mattress fun. In her place was a woman whose energy felt borderline depressed.

  Did she regret what they had done?

  Did he not please her enough?

  He knew she hadn’t faked the multiple orgasms they had shared. She had initiated much of the action, so he hadn’t forced her.

  Shit.

  He watched as she retreated from his room, wearing nothing but her glorious, flawless skin. He shimmied into a pair of boxers and followed her into the kitchen, where she collected her clothes and slipped into them without a word.

  He sat on the arm of his sofa, arms crossed, and watched her cover the parts he most wanted to leave uncovered.

  He waited for her to say something.

  Fully dressed, she collected her purse, slipped into her shoes, and started for the door.

  “You’re going to leave? Like that?”

  She turned back as if he were an afterthought. She blinked a few times and readjusted her purse on her shoulder.

  “Thank you for having me over.” She reached for the doorknob, but he couldn’t just watch her go like this.

  Like lightning, he struck before she could open the door. He manacled her wrist, which went limp in his hand.

  Tears filled her eyes, but she looked away as if trying to hide from him.

  Her vulnerability and sadness cut a hole in his heart. Though her abrupt behavior pissed him off, his rage deflated as he watched her struggle for control.

  He released her wrist, took a step back, and watched her walk out of his life, taking whatever had been budding between them with her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Paisley sent her small staff home early. Business was slow, and she needed a little chaos to keep her mind occupied.

  She had set the date for her surgery, and though the idea of changing her mind hadn’t even occurred to her, she knew that her sisters wouldn’t understand.

  And she had to tell them. She had to shore up her support system. She had to be sure she had someone to care for her.

  True to their typical sister intuition, they must have known she was keeping something from them. They hadn’t asked about the lump in her breast for a while, but Paisley could sense that they wanted to. Paisley always managed to find something to rush off to, but her luck had apparently run out. They ambushed her at the ice cream shack precisely at closing time.

  “What’s up?” she asked Reed and Simplicity, knowing from the expressions on their faces that the time for discussion had arrived on the back of the Grim Reaper. No way would they let her escape the scythe as they chopped their way through her barriers.

  “Time for you to tell us.” Reed spoke up first, while Simplicity studied Paisley with visible empathy.

  Paisley wanted to put it off longer, but she knew she couldn’t run this time. She didn’t have the energy to do so.

  She nodded her acquiescence and gestured for them to sit under the screened-in picnic area she had had built.

  She positioned herself opposite her sisters and went through some of the mental exercises she used before a court case.

  “I know you’ve both been wondering what’s going on with my health.” She smiled as they nodded. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation—Simplicity was already blinking away unexpressed tears. “I’ve scheduled my surgery for next week.”

  “When were you planning to tell us
?” Reed asked, her face set in stone.

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you both. I’m sorry. It’s been hard.”

  Simplicity reached across the table to grip Paisley’s hand.

  Paisley inhaled deeply, grateful for the smell of the rain that lingered after the storm had passed through earlier that afternoon. The scent soothed her, making a difficult conversation a little more relaxing.

  “I’ve opted to have a bilateral prophylactic mastectomy and a bilateral prophylactic salpingo-oophorectomy. A mouthful, I know.”

  Both sisters wore the same look—eyes drawn close, mouths pursed, worry obvious.

  “English, please,” Simplicity attempted a smile as her voice came out in nearly a whimper.

  “I’ll be having both breasts removed, and also my ovaries and fallopian tubes.”

  “Why?” Reed shouted. “Did they find more cancer?”

  “Not yet. It’s preventative.”

  “Paisley, we should talk this through. Get a second opinion, ask—”

  Paisley cut her off. “I’ve done all of that. I’ve worked it out already, and my mind is made up. I couldn’t complicate the decision-making process by letting the people closest to me talk me into or out of a treatment plan.”

  Through gritted teeth and a throat full of choking emotions, Reed responded, “You should have let us be part of this, Paisley. We are here to help you!”

  “I know you are.” Paisley reached her free hand across the table and grabbed Reed’s fist. Tears welled up in her own eyes. She had hurt them, as she had known she would. But she had to process this her way, and though it pained her to see her sisters hurting, she had to make a decision that was right for her. “I’ll need you both. More than ever.”

  Simplicity sat up straighter, sniffing away tears. “I respect your decision, Pais, and I know you wouldn’t jump into anything. But why such extreme procedures? Why not just have them cut out the lump and do chemo or radiation or whatever they do nowadays?”

  Paisley smiled at the omission of the natural stuff Simplicity was more a fan of.

  “I had a lump before.”

  “What?” The word, coming from Reed, sounded like a combination between a shout and a squeal.

  “A couple of years ago. I went through the treatments, hid my sickness, and kept working. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

  Reed jerked her hand away from Paisley. “I can’t believe you.”

  Paisley rushed to explain. “It was before Mom died. None of us were close then. I didn’t think it was important enough to tell you. I didn’t tell anyone, really. My boss knew that I was undergoing some sort of treatment and would have to work around appointments, but that was it. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.”

  Reed glared at Paisley.

  Simplicity held her hands up in the air in a meditation-like formation, chanted something, and then asked Reed to calm down and give Paisley the support she needed now.

  Paisley smiled at her sister. Simplicity had always been the baby, but she had been maturing lately and had proven herself to be a stable influence in the family, in spite of her own challenges.

  Reed glared at Simplicity for a moment, but relaxed her face and turned back to Paisley.

  “If the treatment went so well that you could work through it last time, why the drastic measures now?”

  “I don’t want to have to keep going through it. Yes, I worked, but it was a killer. I don’t want to deal with twice-yearly mammograms—and I don’t have time for it. I’m terrified of missing a cancer until it has grown large enough to spread. Not to mention the possible harm from radiation during those frequent exams.” Paisley tossed her head back and stared at the ceiling, where a spider spun a web. “I’ve already been through this once. I can’t deal with the stress of thinking I’ll end up like Mom. I’d rather eliminate the possibility.”

  As her tears freed themselves from her eyes, her sisters rushed to her side and hugged her from all angles. She allowed herself to let it all go, right there in the safe embrace of her safety net.

  When a crying-induced headache started pounding at her temples, she pulled away.

  “I have to tell you guys something else.”

  Her declaration was met with silence, but they sat beside her, their backs to the picnic table while her legs were still tucked under the table.

  “I had genetic testing done, and I tested positive for the BRCA 2 gene.” Paisley took a moment to gather herself as her sisters continued to stare. “That’s a big part of why I’m treating this so aggressively. But you both should be aware that…”

  Paisley fought the tears that loomed, ready to wash her away in a flood of fear and horror and the kind of despair that can cripple someone.

  Her sisters each grasped one of her arms, anchoring her in a way that nothing else could.

  “You need to know that,” she sniffled, “because I tested positive, there’s a fifty percent chance of you testing positive for the gene, too.”

  Simplicity leaned forward and rested her head on Paisley’s shoulder, while Reed seemed unable to look away from Paisley’s chest.

  “Imagining what I’ll look like when this is over?” Paisley asked.

  Reed raised her eyes as her lips formed into a quirky grin.

  “Actually,” she said, her voice lighter than it had been since coming to the ice cream shack. “I’m thinking of how cool it will be to finally have bigger boobs than you.”

  ***

  Since Asher had to be in the area to meet with the construction team to discuss plans for setting the groundwork for the building that would become the main area used for the rehab, he figured he’d take a walk over to see how Paisley was doing. He hadn’t heard from her since their date night—if he could call it that. The longer he waited to see her, the more awkward the reunion would become.

  He hadn’t expected to hear sobbing coming from the screened-in picnic area. He especially hadn’t expected the sobbing to be coming from Paisley.

  He had almost rushed forward to demand to know who or what had hurt her, but a small voice in the back of his head made him stop.

  What if he was the one who had hurt her?

  What if she was commiserating with her sisters about how badly he had treated her?

  He considered eavesdropping, but realized that would make him even less of a man than he was starting to think he was.

  He turned to leave, hoping to remain undetected, but then the word treatment caught his attention and he became immobilized.

  Paisley was sick.

  He tuned out much of what they were saying, but tuned back in when one of Paisley’s sisters started asking her, matter-of-factly, about what they could help with following the surgery. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, the word cancer had been bandied about.

  Asher pulled at his collar, unsure why he wasn’t getting air. The first taunting drops of rain fell on his head, and a loud burst of laughter cut through the fog as the wind around him picked up. Before his brain could send the command for his legs to walk, the sky opened up and dumped barrels of water directly on him. He didn’t mind. Maybe the rain would wash away the horrible fear clawing at him. Or erase the truth of what he didn’t want to have overheard.

  Maybe the rain would put an end to the suffering of everyone who ever touched his life.

  Because he couldn’t watch another person he loved perish.

  Asher bolted away, dashing through the woods with no concern about the puddles splashing mud up onto his one good pair of khaki pants.

  ***

  Asher wiped the dust off his father’s desk. He hadn’t been in his dad’s office for weeks. All of his time had been devoted to keeping his customers’ cars in good repair, attending his classes, putting his rehab plans in place, dealing with his brother’s messes, and trying to raise his niece. And obsessing about Paisley.

  Falling in love with Paisley.

  He pressed his fists to his temples, trying to rid his brain of that errant t
hought.

  How could he love anyone who would keep this sort of secret from him?

  Asher opened the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out the old photo album his dad had kept there. Next to it was a bottle of whisky his father had kept since deciding to become sober. He had lost himself to his booze after the loss of his wife—Asher’s mother—but when he realized what a mess he was making of his kids’ lives, he quit cold-turkey. He had kept this bottle here, beside the photo album, to remind him of what he had to lose.

  Asher twisted the cap off and brought the bottle to his nose. The dark, malty scent brought memories of his dad fumbling with his tools while working on the Ferrari, alcohol on his breath. Of getting so enraged by his trembling hands that he threw the tools across the garage, causing them to clank against the row of toolboxes. Of Asher stepping in with soothing words and a promise to have it fixed in no time.

  As he breathed in the strong alcoholic scent, Asher flipped through the pages of photos. Mom and Dad’s wedding. A few shots from their honeymoon. Baby pictures. Happy family memories.

  Dead memories. Dead happiness.

  Dead is what happened around him.

  Asher brought the whisky to his lips.

  Having to keep his shit together took far more energy than it would take to succumb to the pain. Why couldn’t he be like everyone else in his family? Why did he have to be the one to keep the world spinning?

  He took a long sip, recapping the bottle as he allowed the whisky to swirl around his mouth. To coat his tongue. To remind him why he never wanted to rely on a substance to hide his pain.

  The alcohol burned its way down his throat.

  After a moment or two of quiet reflection, Asher put away the photo album, tucked the bottle of whisky back beside it, and pulled out the blueprint he had drawn up for the land.

  He had one mission in life that he could control. He’d build that damned rehab if it was the last thing he did. No one and nothing would get in the way of that goal.

  ***

  The thing she loved most about her sisters was that even after a crying session that left everyone feeling uncertain, they could behave as if everything was normal.