Blissful volume 3 (New Adult Romance) (6 page)

BOOK: Blissful volume 3 (New Adult Romance)
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Her fingers trail across my bruises, and I try not to wince. I don’t want to show her that it hurts, because I don’t want her to feel bad about it. I know she feels guilty because of what happens. She thinks it’s her fault, but I was the one who ran away from her. I needed some time alone to think, and it ended up with me driving off a cliff. Granted, it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, it still happened. I can’t erase the past. I can’t make her forget what she saw.

God, it must’ve been horrible to find me like that. I know it must be. I’ve been through the same thing myself.

“I’m so glad I got to you in time,”
she says, and she wraps her arms around me, squeezing me to death.

I nod. “Me too.”

“So … you really didn’t do it on purpose?” she asks, her eyes big and watery.

Oh, shit. No, don’t go crying on me now. “No, it was an accident. I told you, a deer crashed into my car.”

“Kind of cruel that it ended up being the exact same spot as when your wife …” she swallows those last words away, but I know what she means.

“Tell me about it.”

“Do you remember what happened?” she asks. “I mean, when I saved you, you don’t remember being pulled up?”

“Nope, nothing. Like I said, my mind went blank right after the truck hit the water. I must’ve hit my head, but I’m glad I did. I don’t want to remember something that awful.”

My muscles are all tensed up just from talking about it. I don’t like it one bit.

She sniffs and pushes her fingers in
to my skin, holding onto me, as if she’s afraid of losing me again.

It’s quiet for some time. I’m guessing she noticed I don’t like talking about the accident. Or my wife, for that matter.
Remembering is easy. Forgetting, that’s hard. I don’t want to be reminded of what I’ve done or what I’ve lost. To be reminded of those eyes as I saw her drown in the water before me. There is no way to change the past and I intend to stop living for it, starting right now.

There’s someone knocking on the door, and we both jolt up. It’s Ben.

“Kinda late, Jack. Think I’ll head home now. I’ll leave her here with you, if that’s okay.” He puts down Madeline.

“Thank you, Ben. I really appreciate all your help.”

“Don’t mention it. Anything for this little princess over here,” he says, and he pinches her cheeks, making her giggle.


Cya,” he says, and he turns around.

“Bye
Uncle Benny!” Maddy says.


Cya, kiddo.” Ben ruffles her hair with his big hand.

“Thanks. I owe you one!” I say as Ben walks down the stairs.

“Many,” Ben yells before we hear the door close behind him.

Madeline runs to my bed and
clambers onto it like a cat jumping onto a pillow.

“I want to sleep in your bed, daddy.”

She scrambles closer, pushes us aside, and plops down in between us. She nestles her way under the blanket and pulls it up to her nose. Amy and I briefly glance at each other, and I can’t help but grin.

She looks at me, raises a finger, then looks at Amy, raises another finger, and then looks at herself and raises another.
“Now we’re with three!” she says, smiling widely because she counted right.

“Yes
! Good job, Maddy,” Amy says, and she pokes Madeline.

Amy lifts the blanket and lies d
own. I lie down, too, and put my arm around Maddy, which she grabs like a protective barrier between her and the world.

“Only daddy and I sleep here together,” Madeline says.

I roll my eyes. What’s she up to now?

“And mommy, when she was still here.”

Just hearing the word ‘mommy’ come from her mouth makes my stomach turn.

I close my eyes, trying to get her to see that everyone wants to sleep so she’ll stop talking. Amy has hers closed, too, so I guess she’s tired as well.

“Will you be my new mommy?” Madeline suddenly says.

My heart stops beating fo
r a second. I gaze at Amy, whose eyes jerk open. Her face contorts.

“What? No,
uhh…” I stammer. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. I can’t explain to a three year old how complicated relationships are.

Amy makes an effort to smile at Maddy. “Maybe, but that’s grown up talk, Maddy.” She pats Maddy’s head, and then turns around with her back toward us, blocking us out. I’d love to do the same with questions like these, but I’m the father, so I have no choice.

“But you’re here and we’re all in bed. Why can’t you be my mommy?” she says. Her little voice and the words she speaks tear that gash in my heart wide open.


Shhh,” I say to her, and I cuddle up closer to her, so she might take the hint. “Time to sleep now, Maddy.”

“I want her to be my mommy,” she mutters.

“Not now. We’re all tired. You too,” I say, when I see her yawn. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk about it later.”

Of course, later probably means never. I have no idea how to handle this situation. But j
ust thinking about having Amy as a mommy to Madeline is freaking me out. The thought of having her replace my wife is not something I want to imagine. I can’t. It’s not possible.

 

***

 

Finally had a good night’s rest. I don’t know why, but I’m guessing it’s because Amy was with me. She has this calming effect on me. The only one who can help me get to sleep. I don’t want to think of what that actually means.

We’re working our asses off, feeding the animals, cleaning the pens, and making sure to check them all up. I’m glad I finally feel like my old self again after almost drowning, because work’s piled up. Ben’s been doing all the chores on his own, and I have no idea how he managed to do it. The barn also needs to be fixed, since I found a leak. Luckily, I have Amy to help me by holding the ladder while I go up.

Madeline’s doing her part too, swiping the floors clean, and finding lost tools. I love how she wants to help out, even though she has no idea what she’s doing. It’s kind of endearing, though I have the same feelings when I watch Amy try to brush the horses. It makes me chuckle just thinking about all the hassle she makes of it.

When I’m done with the roof and walk down the ladder again, Amy’s frowning, and she’s looking down. It’s almost as if a cloud has just formed above her head. I know there’s something bothering her. She hasn’t really
spoken much at all since yesterday, and I’m thinking there’s something on her mind she doesn’t want to talk about. Or at least not yet. I hope it’s not something to do with me. I hate it when that happens, because it’s never good.

“Something wrong?” I say, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

She just sighs and shrugs. Right, this must be one of those things chicks do a lot. Not talk, but speak in cryptic movements that are so fucking confusing. As if they want us to read their minds or something.

I put my hand on her shoulder and it seems to pull her out of her daydream, because she suddenly looks up at me, startled, as if she’s surprised that I’m touching her. “C’mon, tell me. I know you’re not telling something, and you can’t fool me into thinking you’re all right. So spill it.”

She folds her arms and leans sideways against the barn. “I don’t know … it’s just that I still haven’t talked to Nicole. I’ve been so busy with what happened to you, and … well, you know.”

I had hoped we could avoid talking about my accident, but I guess she still thinks about it. Must be bothering her a lot.

“I told her I would think about our band together,” she says.

“And?”

“I still haven’t decided. That’s the problem.” She bites her lip. “I just … miss it.” The pause between her sentences and words make me think she’s leaving a whole lot out. What doesn’t she want me to hear?

I lick my lip as I mull about the situation. I have no idea what to do with this information. It’s
as if she wants my input, but she doesn’t want it at the same time. Maybe I’m just a sounding board and she needs to vent something, but I’m sure there’s more to it than that. She’s just not telling.

Rubbing her forehead, she says, “Look, your sister offered me to come play at the bar some time. Do you think I could do that tonight? I really want to make some music again. You know, play for the crowd.”

I can hear the passion in her voice. This music thing really means a lot to her. I don’t know what it feels like to be missing something like that, but I guess it’s like me missing riding my horses. Yeah, I’d miss that a lot if I hadn’t done it in weeks.

But still, she wants to go to my sister’s bar? She chose that exact place to want to play music? She could’ve picked a
ny fucking place in this whole region, and she decides to settle for my friggin’ sister’s bar. Goddammit.

Scratching the back of my neck, I say, “You sure you want to go to my sister’s? I mean, there must be a better place to do wh
atever you’re thinking of doing.”

One of her eyebrows and the left corner of her mouth lift. “I’m thinking of playing the piano, maybe sing a few songs, that’s all. Nothing fancy. Your sister said she’d pay me if I’d do it. That’s why I think it’s a great idea.”

“You want to play for the money? Amy …” I say, sighing. “Cash shouldn’t be the reason. I don’t want you to go through trouble just for that. If it’s just money you need, I can give you that.”

She gasps. “What? No, Jack! Seriously? I will
not
take money from you.” Her face contorts, and I already regret what I said.

“What? If I can provide for you, then there’s no need for you to go out of your way to get your hands on some cash. Nothing wrong with that.”

She rolls her eyes and a tiny smile appears on her face. “I am not a dependent woman. You should know that by now.” She places her fists against her waist, and her defiant stance is stirring some manly urges inside me.

“I wasn’t implying you were.”
I come closer and know I tower above her. I know she doesn’t like it. That’s exactly why I do it. Maybe it’ll encourage her to just take me up on my offer. “If this, what we have, is going to be more than just … sex …” I clear my throat, the word unsettling me. Images of her, naked, flash through my mind, and my cock twitches in response. “I want to give you more than just that. I want to provide for you, too. It’s what we do.”

She snorts. “We? You mean men?” Her laugh makes me blush a bit. I didn’t know I sounded so conceited, but now that I think about it … yep, it sounded pretty lame.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t
need
a man to take care of me, thanks very much. I can take care of myself.” She tries to escape to the side, but I block her way out by putting my hand on the wall. The conversation is not yet over, and I want a chance to redeem myself.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that, all right. Sorry. I just want to be nice. To take care of the girl I …”

I can’t get the word to roll over my tongue. Saying it means acknowledging the feelings that I’m not sure are even there.

Are they?

I’m definitely sure this is more than just lust, because I’ve never felt so protective and caring about a woman before, but she sets me off, too. In ways I could never imagine, I might add. Pushing my buttons, that’s what she does. But I’m feeling much better since she’s here, since I have someone to hold and talk to. I can’t deny what she does to me.

But can I really say love? Is it love? This word is not something I like to blurt out everywhere. It scares me to death, because it means all sorts of things. Promises, obligations, demands, questions. Things are so much easier if it just wasn’t there.

But I know it is. I just can’t say it yet. I can’t say to her face that I might fall in love with her, that I love how she is, what she does for me, even though I hate it sometimes, too. I can’t say it, because I’m afraid. Afraid of all those consequences and the implications. That she might not feel the same. That after everything we’ve been through, she might still leave. That the word will not hold her back from abandoning me.

The look in her eyes soften
s and she puts her hand on my cheek. The warmth is putting all my nerves on high alert, forcing me to pay attention. “It’s sweet, Jack. I understand what you’re trying to do … and I think it’s nice, but money isn’t the only reason I want to do this. I love singing. I love making music. It’s my soul. I need to do this.”

I let my head rest against her forehead, and take in her scent. Her flowery perfume sets me at ease, knowing what I’m about to say. “All right. If it’s what you want. But I warn you, my sister’s a bitch. I hate being forced to talk to her.”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“Yes, I do. I
’m not letting you around that woman without supervision.”

“You don’
t trust me? And what the hell, ‘supervision’? I’m not Madeline!”

“Relax.
I don’t mean you. I just don’t trust Karen. At all. She’s just so crazy. Especially when she talks about the ranch.”

Actually, I just prefer if Karen didn’t talk at all. Especially not to Amy. Whatever she says can’t be good. Nothing coming from that mouth can be good. Always criticizing me, blaming me for everything that happens. Goddamn woman …

BOOK: Blissful volume 3 (New Adult Romance)
2.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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