Beautifully Wounded (The Beaumont Brothers) (17 page)

Lena

It was finally Monday. I thought it would never come.
Jackson spent the next two nights with me upstairs, and he put the music to the beautiful lyrics he’d written. It was amazing how he got me. The comfort of his body next to mine while I slept was amazing. I managed to leave the hammer on the floor instead of under my pillow, now. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep without him again. He never tried to kiss me again, but I knew he wanted to. He was the kindest, most understanding man I’d ever met. Well, I didn’t know many, but my track record up until then hadn’t exactly been the best, other than Weezer. But Weezer was just a friend. Not someone I’d ever want to be sleeping next to me. He’d been too much like an older brother, always trying to protect me, and sometimes, I had to admit, worrying about me. I suppose I should have listened to him when he begged me not to marry Troy. He’d been right, but never, ever said those awful I-told-you-so words. I realized that Weezer and Jackson were a lot alike. Except Weezer always treated me like a little sister, and with Jackson, there was never any I-want-to-be-your-brother attitude going on. With Jackson, I always got I-think-you’re-hot-and-want-to-hold-you-next-to-me kind of vibes.

My first day at the bar went by without a hitch.
Brodie had me clearing tables and delivering drinks mostly. He actually seemed pleased to have me there, and was more than willing to go out of his way to make me feel comfortable. I’d wondered what I’d done to change his mind about me. There weren’t very many customers, so the day sort of dragged on, but I was happy to be out and seeing what little of the community I did. Jackson said that Mondays were busier during the football season, but assured me that once the hockey playoffs started in April, business would pick up again.

The days were flying by
, and most nights after work, Jackson let me use his spare guitar, and we played together. We usually played down at his place, but I always insisted that I go upstairs to sleep, and even though Jackson insisted on coming with me, claiming that he knew I slept better when he was there—I couldn’t argue with that—I still wanted to go upstairs to give Brodie the privacy I knew he wanted. Brodie liked having a variety of women at his disposal, bringing many of them home to spend the night, and made no apologies for his actions. In spite of his sexual habits, I actually started to like Brodie, and I think the feeling was mutual. I worried about his promiscuity, but I’d never had the nerve to mention it. That was Jackson’s job, but he only got on his case jokingly, though I knew from conversations we’d had that he didn’t think Brodie was doing himself any favors with the way he treated the ladies. He wasn’t mean to them at all, in fact, from what I’d witnessed, Brodie was extremely sweet to them, just noncommittal. Brodie was handsome, looking similar to Jackson, so I understood the lure, but I didn’t understand the
why
. Local girls knew about Brodie’s lechery and still flocked to his side, wanting his attention. They still came home with him, knowing that he’d most likely be with someone else the very next night. Jackson had joked more than once that Brodie should take out stock in one of the larger, well-known condom companies.

The month flew by, and before I knew it, I was waiting tables and taking orders as if I’d been doing it my entire life. I was having a blast. Before I knew it, one month turned into two, and I hadn’t forgotten about my promise to myself to leave after I’d paid Jackson and Brodie back for their hospitality. I was just sad that I needed to leave. It was going to be one of the hardest things for me to do. Jackson and I spent every night together playing songs, and then later retreating upstairs to sleep, but usually the first thirty minutes or so of that turned into a grand make out session. We’d never go any further than kissing. He’d never pushed me to go any further, and quite frankly, I didn’t think I was ready anyway.

Friday night
s were the busiest at the bar, and Jackson usually played with his band. I walked slowly across the room, a tray balancing on the palm of my hand as Jackson began to speak through the mic and the entire room grew quiet.

“I have a treat for you all,” he began, a smile twitched on his face.
We have a lovely guest performance tonight.” My eyes instantly flicked up to the stage to see whom he might be talking about, and he was looking right at me. My face grew hot even before he said my name. Well, he used my fake name, but still. “Ladies and Gents, if you will, help me give a warm welcome to the lovely, Lana Martin.” My heart leaped into my throat and I shook my head. “Come on up here, baby, let’s show these folks what an angel sounds like.”

I just stood, staring at him until someone took the tray from me. I smiled briefly
in surprise and looked back up at the stage. People started yelling and clapping, and then I felt a hand at my back giving me a little push. I turned around to see Brodie smiling at me. “Go ahead,” he coaxed as he stood there holding the tray I’d been carrying.

I walked slowly up the steps, taking Jackson’s outstretched hand. I sat on the chair next to him and strapped on the guitar he handed me. “You ready?” he asked
. I nodded.

We sang one of the songs we’d been practicing
, the Christine Perri and Jason Marz duet of
Distance
. It had become one of our favorites to sing together, and one he knew I was very familiar with. After the song, everyone in the bar stood and clapped. “See that, baby? That’s for you. A standing ovation.”

I beamed, proudly
. I’d missed performing so much, and that night made me remember why.

Jackson

I couldn’t have been more proud of Lena. She stayed up on stage with us and performed two more numbers.
I’d brought home a bottle of champagne to celebrate, and as we entered the cottage, I flipped on the light and stared at the small bed. I’d been sleeping up here holding on to Lena every night, but I had to admit, I missed my own bed. I wanted to stay with her, but I didn’t relish sleeping in that tiny bed tonight.

“Lena.”

She turned to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Yes?” she said with a grin that seemed permanently put on her face ever since that first song we performed, and I was damn glad to see it. I didn’t want to ruin anything, but I needed a good night’s sleep. “Will you come with me downstairs to my place? Sleep there tonight?”

She followed my eyes to the small sofa we’d been sharing. “What, you don’t like snuggling close
on that?”

“I love snuggling close, but I’d also love to do it in a bigger bed
where my ass isn’t hanging off the edge.

She giggled then let out a heavy
sigh. “I love sleeping with you Jackson. And I love what we do before we go to sleep, but if I go downstairs it would be like me living down there again, and Brod …”

“Don’t worry about
Brodie,” I interrupted. “He’s changed his mind about you now that he’s seen the light …”

“And what light would that be?”

He leaned his forehead against mine. “The light that glows from the top of your head like an angel’s halo when you sing.”

I laughed.
“Now I have a halo? You must have been standing behind me when I was looking in the mirror or something because I think the shine came from your own halo.”

“Well, now that we’ve established that we are both celestial beings, can we please go stroke each other’s feathers in my bed?”

“Okay. Just let me get my stuff.”

I let out a puff of air
, and helped her to gather her sweatpants and stuff.

The house was dark, which meant
Brodie was still at the bar. Good. Even though I’d said he changed his tune about Lena, I still didn’t want to run into him on our way to my room. It was only eleven, and I knew Brodie would be out until at least one in the morning. The bar closed at two o’clock, but Brodie liked to let Derrick close on Friday nights so he could have some fun with a girl, and from what I knew, Friday nights were his best chance for that.

“Lena, before we go to sleep, I have another surprise
, and another reason to drink this champagne tonight.”

“What is it?”

“Luke managed to get the judge to expedite the divorce and emailed the final papers to me this morning.”

“Really?” she gaped at me. “But I thought it would take ninety days? It’s only been forty.
” She said that like she knew the exact date and time everything would be final, and quite frankly, I bet she did.

“Usually, there is a ninety-day waiting period between the time he
’d been served and the final judgment, but because of the circumstances, the fact that you’d been married under a year and the abuse, Luke was able to convince the judge to waive the ninety-day period and expedite the final papers. Here they are.” I handed her the copy I printed. “The originals should be here any day now, but Luke emailed these to me this morning.”

“Oh my God. I’m really free?”

God, the way she said “free” broke my heart. As though she’d been held prisoner by the jerk. Well, I guess she had been. “Yeah, sweetheart, you’re free.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks
, and she sobbed. “Why are you crying? I thought you would be happy.”

“I am
, I am so happy. So grateful to you.”

“You are
now, officially, a single woman.” I smiled, pulled her close to me and held her. No one could have been happier than I was that she was no longer married to that creep.

After she’d shed all the “happy” tears she had, I popped the cork on the bottle of bubbly and we toasted to her newfound independence.

“Let’s take this into the bedroom. I’d really like to get comfortable and cozy,” I suggested, and she nodded, clinking her glass against mine another time.

I set the bottle of champagne and the two glasses on the nightstand
, and she took her clothes and went into the bathroom to change. I had yet to see her fully naked. I’d had my hands on almost every part of her body, but never directly on her soft skin. I knew it was soft, because, although I hadn’t actually fondled her naked body completely, my hands and lips were no stranger to her stomach, shoulders, and neck. I’d never tried to go any further than that, not while she was still married. I pulled my shirt off just as she walked out of the bathroom. Though it hadn’t been the first time she’d ever seen me without a shirt, her eyes grew a bit wider as she stared at me this time. She stared so hard even the tattoos on my arms and chest began to feel self-conscious. Maybe, because this was the first time she’d seen me standing without my pants too. The other shirtless times I’d at least had jeans on. I glanced down at the blue and white striped boxers I had on, wondering if she thought they looked stupid or sexy. “Um …” she averted her eyes and walked to the dresser to set her clothes on top of it. Her back was to me now.

I slid under the sheets without saying a word
, and she turned around and smiled. She wore the heavy sweatpants and the same T-shirt I’d given her when she first moved in upstairs. The same ones she wore every night. “I’m gonna need to get you some new pjs, woman. Aren’t you tired of wearing those?”

She laughed. “No. I like wearing your clothes.
”

“
Yeah, but you’ve been wearing the same ones for two months now.”

“Well, I do wash them every few days.”

“But it’s getting warmer now, and we have this heavy comforter on here. You’re going to roast in those.” I got out of bed and walked to the dresser, pulled out a new T-shirt, one that had a picture of a guitar on it and printed underneath, the words, “guitarists finger faster.” Realizing what it said, I shoved it back in the drawer and pulled out another plain white one, along with a pair of purple, yes purple, silk boxers.

“Purple?”

“What, you don’t like purple?”

“Yeah, I like purple.” She smiled. “What was wrong with the other shirt with the picture of the guitar?” She reached into the drawer for the other shirt and held it up to read. Her cheeks flushed pink and she wadded the shirt up into a ball, shoving it back in the drawer. “The plain white one will do fine, thanks.”

I closed the drawer and took her hand, leading her away before she discovered some other things in my dresser that might make her change her mind about sleeping with me in my bed. I never claimed to be a virgin, or a saint.

“Go change
.”

I got back in bed and waited. She came out looking a little fresher and cooler, turned off the light next to the bed and got in beside me. I’d left the small night light on in the outlet on the wall and it glowed, giving the room a nice warm golden ambiance
; just enough light for drinking champagne by, or for kissing.

We sat up with our back
s propped up against the headboard and sipped some more of the bubbly stuff. It was good, cool and refreshing. Lena giggled a little and wiped her finger under her nose. “The bubbles got me,” she admitted.

I took the glass from her and placed it on the table beside me along with mine,
then took her face in my hands. “You are so beautiful.” She opened her mouth slightly as if she was about to object, or maybe she just didn’t know what to say, but I didn’t give her a chance as I covered her lips with mine. Taking full advantage of her open mouth, I slipped my tongue inside, tasting the wine and her, reveling in her willingness to allow me to kiss her. One of her hands slid up my back, and I moved my hand down to her waist and under the shirt. I skimmed my finger along her stomach, waiting for her to stop me. Instead of stopping me, she pressed her fingers against my chest and slowly rubbed them over my nipples, lingering there, teasing me. I thought I would explode. I’d been thinking about this woman being under me for so long, it had almost become, no not almost, it
had
become a fantasy; one I’d thought about every night. It was difficult for me to control my excitement, kissing her while lying in
my
bed, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. I wanted her, and I didn’t know if I could contain myself any longer. Sleeping with her upstairs in that small bed fully clothed was so much easier. I swore that I wouldn’t be the one to make the move, but man, this was killing me.