Brotherhood of Fire (16 page)

The sound of the screen door on the back of the house banging shut made Carrie take a deep breath. Like a starting shot, it was the sound she'd been waiting for. Lying in their bed next to Garrett in the early morning haze of half sleep, she lifted up and propped her chin on her hand.

"I'm glad we've got a couple hours alone together," she murmured, sliding her other hand over his bare belly.
He smiled, lifting his head slightly to look at her. "Me too. This has all been good, but I miss just having you to myself a bit lately."
"Now that things are settling down, I think it will work out. I mean, you have alternating shifts. You'll only be here together half the week; the other half it will be one or the other of you."
He threw his arm over his eyes, his smile fading. "About that. How are you doing with all this? Being alone with him the first night and all that?"
"It was a little odd at first, uncomfortable. But by the time we settled, in it didn't seem weird at all. Nothing like I thought it would."
"So you're adjusting to him being here?"
His tone was cautious, his familiar way of trying to get at what he wanted to know, and he still wasn't looking at her, keeping his arm over his eyes and hiding his expression.
"I think we need to talk about this, Garrett. I'm not speaking for John, but—" She rolled to her back, looking up at the ceiling. "I have some things going on I need to tell you."
It was his turn to sit up and look down at her, his eyes wary. He put his hand on hers and laid them over her chest. "What things?"
The tension coursed through him, palpable enough for her to feel it. There wasn't going to be a better time to do this. Before she opened her mouth, his patience wore out.
"You're falling in love with him, aren't you?"
Nodding mutely, she clutched at his fingers where they laced with hers.
"Shit."
He pulled his hand away and rubbed his jaw, looked down at her, then rolled away from her and off the bed.
"I need coffee. I can't have this fucking conversation half asleep." Before she could answer, his bare feet were pounding the stairs. Not exactly the outcome she'd been hoping for.

John stopped halfway across the porch, his arm in mid reach for the screen door, when he heard the slam of a cupboard and the shout following it. He froze.
"I told you this could happen! I warned you, and you still wanted to move forward. You knew, Garrett, you knew! You still threw me into it, and now it's my fault I have feelings?"
"Not your fault, no. Doesn't mean I'm ready for this, that I'm okay with it. I'm not."
"Well, I can't help how I feel. I didn't
want
to fall in love with him, if that makes it any better for you. Sure as hell doesn't me. I'm stuck in this, between the two of you. You said you didn't want me to get hurt. Well, guess what? I do no matter what. I can't help how I feel, you hate it, and he said he'll walk if this gets difficult. So where the hell does that leave me except being the woman you both like to get off on? The woman who gets screwed either way, right?"
Another loud slam, this time the bathroom door at the end of the kitchen. Stepping back, John ducked into the shadow as he saw Garrett stride across the kitchen in just a pair of shorts, steely eyed and heading for the bathroom door. He could see through the sheer curtain over the window as he leaned into it. Garrett had his forehead pressed on the door, murmuring words John couldn't hear clearly.
Since he was eavesdropping.
Feeling embarrassed for watching the private argument, he still didn't turn and leave. This concerned him, not just the two of them. If he could walk in and put his own feelings out there on the table, he would. Except this wasn't his relationship, his marriage. His argument. He was the guy who caused this mess by just being here. His own twisted-up feelings in things would make the situation worse. Blurting out that he loved Carrie might be the thing that toppled Garrett's reaction over from a bump in the road to a major disaster.
His presence, even if Garrett had instigated it, opened up the chance for her to start having feelings. Much as it thrilled him to the core to know she cared for him, the pain it brought knowing those feelings hurt her—might hurt her marriage—made him wish he could go back in time. He'd have gladly sat in silence with his unspoken love for her if he knew it would save her heartache.
He rubbed his eyes, anger welling up that had nowhere to go. Anger that he'd let Garrett drag him into this when he knew better. His own burning gut and black, empty feeling of loss went ignored as he pictured Carrie in the bathroom alone, crying. He ached to think he could be there to soothe her, to hold her and help her with anything that pained her, but the man who had the right to do that was already in there, talking softly through the door, begging her to let him in.
This wasn't his house, his marriage, his wife. The exact thing he'd feared unfolded right in front of him without warning. He'd thought he fell in love with Carrie long before this even started, but that had been nothing compared to this, just a longing. Now, his love for her had become real, tangible, running through him like a lifeline. The deepest feeling he'd had for a woman any time in his life, and she wasn't his. In fact, right now, she was the furthest from ever being his he could imagine.
He turned, strode off the porch, jumped in his truck and headed to the fire station. He had no idea what to do to make this work, or if he would even be coming back here again once what she had told Garrett sunk in. All he could do was wait for the hammer to drop on him, wait for the moment when he was told he wasn't welcome in their home any longer. Until then, he would have to live silently with the fact that he had just watched the destruction his own selfishness had brought down.

Holding a cold beer, Carrie tiptoed up behind John in the backyard, where he busied himself digging a new flowerbed. He'd been avoiding her for the last few hours, going outside to keep busy, doing just about anything to occupy his time. The tension in him was beyond obvious. For a man who had trouble keeping his emotions hidden, he'd been strangely calm, oddly silent, and his flat, dead, calm demeanor spooked her.

"Hey!" He yelped as she rolled the cold beer over the broad expanse of his bare back.
"Hey yourself." She smiled, holding out the beer. "Sorry, couldn't resist."
He grabbed it and took a swig, then wiped his forehead on his arm. "Thanks for the beer. And the cold shock. You might want to stay back; I'm sweaty."
Stay back didn't even make her list of things she'd like to do, and a warm, slightly sweaty man didn't turn her off in the least. Wondering what had turned him into a silent piece of stone
did
bother her though, that, and the tension that had settled over them all. Garrett was still wound up tight. She had been chewing and pacing over it all for hours, and John and become the calm, silent one of the three of them. That in itself felt like an omen of something going seriously wrong, when things should be going the opposite direction.
"So, are you going to tell me what's up?"
He shook his head, not looking at all surprised, only resigned.
"I didn't think it'd take you long to figure it out."
"Yeah, well, I don't read you quite as well as I do Garrett, but when
you
shut down it's not hard to figure out the universe is turning backward somewhere."
He set the shovel aside, took a long drink of the beer, and just looked at her. This time, his stare did little to unnerve her. After having to face Garrett the day before, her attitude had shifted from afraid to confront, to just getting it all out and done with, one way or another.
"He told you, didn't he?"
He shook his head slowly. "He didn't tell me anything. I saw you two arguing."
"Oh, damn. Why didn't you say something? How much did you see?"
"Only a little. I didn't mean to. I had to come back for something, and you were in the kitchen. Why, does it bother you to know I saw it? Something I didn't see I should know?"
She bristled, putting her hands on her hips. "No. Why would you say that? It's not what you saw or that you saw anything at all, it's how this is all going. He didn't like hearing the truth either."
His face turned pale white. "Did you tell him what I said to you? How I feel?"
"God, no! I wouldn't do that to you. I know you'll do it when you're ready, I guess."
"I'm not going to tell him."
Her heart fell to her feet.
Shaking his head, he reached out and pulled her into him. She let his damp skin and his scent swallow her, hating how good it felt when her head filled with the images of this burning down around her.
She pulled back and looked at him. "How is that going to work? He's going to figure it out sooner or later. He didn't fall apart when I told him how I feel. He's not happy, no, but he's trying to digest it at least."
"I might just have to go, like I told you before."
The shock he really would leave hit her hard. Doubt spread like a dark tide through her that maybe he didn't mean the words after all. She meant them, and had no intention of giving up, so why did he?
"You would really just get up and walk out!" Balling her hand into a fist, she tried to hit him, no real anger or force behind it. He caught her hand and pressed the back of it to his lips.
"I don't want to, you know that. I want to be with you, but I won't sit here and let this wreck your life. I love you, and Garrett is like my brother. If it takes me giving up what I want to make sure the two of you are safe and happy, then that's what is going to happen."
"He's conflicted. It bothers him how I feel, but he wishes it didn't. He said if he could just accept it, accept this the way it is, he would. He feels like it's his fault for starting all this."
He shifted her in his arms, his sigh ruffling the top of her hair. The warm, thick muscle of his thighs bunched and shifted beneath his jeans, rubbing against her hips where he bracketed her between them. The warm feel of his hard belly against her bare arms sent goose bumps up her spine. Sighing in answer to his, she dragged her mind away from the now-familiar feel of his hard body, his comfort, and back to the pain of his words.
"He's your husband, he might never accept it. You have feelings for another man. That's bad enough, but to find out I feel the same about you? When I'm in your bed every night? I'm there because he asked me to be there, but I had no business agreeing to his plan, knowing how I felt. No business trying to get what I needed at the risk of the two of you being pulled apart."
Understanding of why he wanted to run instead of fight filled her. The realization felt jagged and raw. Helpless. Hopeless. This was never going to work, and he knew it, he accepted the fact even while she stood here trying to deny it. She shook her head in disgust, in anger, and in pain.
"Should have never done this. I told him. I think I'd rather not know than have to feel this. I don't even have you, and I'm losing you."

John's head reeled. The feel of Carrie warm and soft against him was only part of his reaction.
If not for the fact that he knew damn well her feelings for him might wreck her marriage, her entire life, he'd be hearing the hallelujah chorus in his head every time he held her, every time he remembered she loved him. Instead, he was trying to swallow the bitter pill that it didn't matter what she felt. What he felt. Garrett hadn't intended for things to get this far, and after his reaction to the way Carrie felt, John could only imagine the fireworks if Garrett found out the truth—that the feelings between he and Carrie ran both ways.
"He's going to think I played him. And I didn't. Not on purpose."
The pain radiating from her face made him feel about an inch tall.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying—" He paced away from her, hands in his hair, scrambling for something. Anything. "He's having a hard enough time with how you feel. When he finds out I feel the same way . . . shit. I'm so fucked. He won't be angry at you. He feels like it's his own fault for pushing this on you. Me? Oh, me he'll blame."
"What the hell are we going to do? We can't hide our feelings or ignore them. That's not going to change anything!"
"No fucking idea. None at all. Only the one I already told you."
The look on her face crushed him. He grabbed her back into his arms, wishing with everything he had that there was another solution besides the one he had come up with.
"Tell you what, let's just relax and be together while we have the chance. Garrett's not home until tonight; we can talk and figure something out, okay? Maybe we are just overreacting. For now, let me focus on you, let me love you. It's just the two of us, what we feel, what we know. Let's take what we have, and we can worry about the rest later."
The words calmed her, but not him. He did have her right now, that was true. For the rest of the day. A few hours in her arms pretending he wasn't going to walk away the next time he left this place to go to work would at least afford him the luxury of not taking the hit until it was over, of giving her something for them alone, to remember after he left her to her life. He leaned down to her mouth and kissed her gently, feeling her melt into him.
He could make love to her one time with nothing between them, nothing hidden, no secrets. The knowledge that they loved each other clear as day. One time. It was all he had. The only gift he could give her.
Turning, he pushed her toward the garage wall, pinning her against the siding. His hands cupped her face as his lips slanted over hers in a hungry kiss. He tightened himself, fully intent on holding back as long as possible and not just losing himself to her. This was their moment, all there was, and it had to last.
A hungry little moan came from her throat, and his body lit on fire. His. All his, even if just for a few hours. That beautiful smile, the way she glowed from inside when he made her come, how she cried out his name as he pulsed inside her. He could anticipate every single moment, and he would burn them all into his brain. To remember when there was nothing else. His body caging hers, he felt the softness of her breasts pressed into his bare chest, the fabric doing nothing to hide the hard tips poking through the thin material. Tempted to bend and taste one right here and now, he lifted his head to see if they were hidden or in plain sight.
Just then, a noise to the side of the yard caught his attention. Turning, he saw a rather stern-looking older woman, hair pulled severely back, wearing a neon pink tracksuit.
From the look on her face, she was absolutely livid.
"What in the world are you doing with that man!" she shrieked.
Carrie froze. Her mouth opened, but she didn't make a sound. John looked from her back to the screeching neighbor. The urge to protect her, to shield her from the angry outburst, had him lifting his arm to pull her back into him. Trying to gauge what exactly was going on, his first thought was to take her into the house.
Carrie pushed him away.
The shock of that one tiny move could not have been more painful. A death knell. Carrie couldn't have made him feel deader inside if she'd have taken him out and shot him.
"I'm telling Garrett!" The woman warned.
"Yeah, you do that Janice," Carrie muttered, staring up at him with total shock on her face. His fingers itched to reach for her. Fear kept him dead still. He should be holding her, taking her inside. Carrying her up to that sweet-smelling bed they had been sharing, and enjoying the afternoon with her.
His last afternoon.
Except this was over. Completely and without a doubt. The weight of it all crashed in on him, the fact that Garrett would never accept this, never believe he hadn't pushed his way into her life, their lives, on purpose. Worst of all was the way Carrie had just looked at him when someone other than the three of them caught on to what was happening. She'd looked . . . horrified.
"I have to go."
"Wait! I didn't—"
He put a hand up. "Stop, Carrie. We both know nothing either of us can say is going to matter. We can't even deal with how we feel between the two of us, let alone what things will be like when this eventually gets out to other people. Like just now. Sweetheart, you told me everything I need to know about how you will deal with this when things get tough right there." His tone was rougher than he'd wanted, but he couldn't change the truth of his words.
"John, I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . . I . . . it was just a gut reaction!"
He strode for the house and went inside, hoping she would be too shocked to follow. No such luck.
"John, please. Talk to me about this."
"Who the hell was that?"
"Just a neighbor."
"Exactly. Just a neighbor. You can't deal with her seeing us, what about when we tell Garrett how we
both
feel, that not only are we feeling things for each other but we are in
love
, and he loses his fucking mind over that idea? Then what? Say we get farther down the road. How are you going to handle the heat when it comes from your family, or Garrett's family? The fucking PTA, for Christ's sake."
He turned from the sight of her, trying to block how fragile she looked, to ignore his overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms, fall to his knees, and beg her forgiveness. The shock had made her skin stand out in stark contrast to the chestnut hair framing her pale face. She looked as if the blood had drained from her entire body. Because of him. Pacing, he ran his hands through his hair. Anger coursed through him, mostly for being so childish, for having let the reality of the situation take him by surprise. If that wasn't enough, watching her face further blanche at his words sent him straight into asshole territory.
"This is exactly what I've been afraid of, what I knew would happen. You can't deal with this, with us, not really. Sure, in bed, when Garrett and I are up there fucking your brains out, but not when your god damn nosy neighbor catches me just holding you, kissing you. Fuck, she ought to see what I was doing to you twelve hours ago when I was buried to my balls in your mouth!"
Anger at his words flared across her face, and he instantly regretted them. Clenching his fists, he paced, knowing this was going from bad to worse and powerless to stop it, or himself.
"Go ahead, say what you want. Make it sound cheap, make it sound like nothing. What we have is not just sex, and you know it. You can't pull back now, no matter what. And I don't care who knows I love you. You obviously care more about having to own up to Garrett for keeping how you felt a secret than what you feel for me, but being gutless doesn't change anything. I'll say it again, I love you."
Her words pounded another nail into him like steel through flesh. His heart was being ripped to pieces, and her answer was to say the words again, even when he treated her this way. She loved him. The exact thing sending him to the pit of hell. Anguish turned to anger as his blood boiled with rage at the injustice of having her within arm's reach, but not his.
"Right, you just yanked your hand away from me out there like I had a disease when your damn neighbor already had an eyeful of your lips all over me. What's going to happen when Garrett gets home and we have to tell
him?
You going to admit you knew I'd fallen in love with you, that you covered for me? Do you think he's just going to shrug and pat me on the back when he finds out I kept this a secret, that I let it happen?"
"Those are two different things; we can talk about this, think it through. What happened out there was just a gut reaction!"
"My point, exactly. The truest one there is, isn't it? Your true feelings about what you think I am, the man willing to jump in bed with you when you're not even my wife."
She stepped back as if he'd hit her, hurt flashing in her green eyes. "That's not how I feel! Shit, I didn't expect anyone to see us; she took me by surprise, I didn't expect her to fucking screech at me like a damn parrot!"
"What do you think is going to happen when Garrett takes you to the carpet? He matters to you, she doesn't. What will you do when he looks at us both like we planned this because I didn't tell him the truth before I ever got in bed with you, and you covered for me. You didn't lie, I did, but keeping my secrets is lying by omission. To your husband. Especially when you obviously are ok with me fucking you, but not letting the world know you have two men in your bed."
Pulling back a little from their face-to-face hurling of insults, she dropped her voice. "You can't forgive me if I was a little shocked? It's not the same thing as planning how to handle our entire lives, and you know it."
"Carrie, the way I feel about you now, shit, what just happened isn't even the problem." He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his hand. "I can't put this all on you. I don't mean to take my anger out on you, but Christ you have no idea how I feel right now. Bottom line, we can't do this, and you damn well know it."
The force of her anger came at him, as did she. Taking a step forward, she leaned toward him, her small body shaking with emotion.
"John! That's bullshit! You practically live here; we all but begged you to!" She shook her head, her look of disbelief as painful as the burn in his gut. "I love you. I didn't lie."
"Love is great, Carrie, but it's going to take a lot more than just that to get us all through this. You going to stand up to Garrett if he says no way, this wasn't supposed to happen? That me fucking you is fine but not if I god damn love you?"
He had to step back, take a deep breath, and lower his voice. He shook, near tears but refusing to let her see it. Anger rose up again at his weakness. He strode to the phone, grabbed it, and held it out toward her. "Here, call him. Right now, Carrie. Tell him you don't just have some feelings going on here, but that you and I are in love with each other, and you knew where this was headed but didn't tell him the whole story. Show me you aren't going to bail on me again the minute someone slams us hard over this."
"John, that's not fair. You're trying to force something, and things don't turn out well that way. I have to consider his feelings too, you know; this isn't just about you or what I want."
"Exactly. His feelings and yours matter more than mine do, and they are supposed to, because I'm just the extra guy. You have a husband, Carrie, a good one, and you won't lose much by turning your back on me. You can't challenge him like that, and you know it, and do you think I fucking want you to? To rip the two of you apart because I don't have the balls to walk away?"
He felt dark and cold as he tossed the phone to the counter and moved to walk around her. The idea he was doing the noble thing didn't stop the bite of pain as he headed up the stairs to gather his things together.
As he walked into the bedroom, it hit him how familiar it had become, how his things were thrown on the night stand with Garrett's, clothes in the hamper all mixed together so he had to sort through them to find his own. He hesitated as the scent of Carrie's perfume wafted up from one of her shirts. Closing his eyes, he held the wall of emotion threatening to fall on him in check.
Better that this happened now. That the neighbor had intervened before he'd spent the day in this bed with her, because he knew standing here with this pain rolling through him, he might never have left. He might have confronted Garrett and thrown his feelings out there, letting the chips fall where they may.
She deserved better. Better than someone who would be selfish enough to put himself over the incredible marriage they already had, the friendship he had with Garrett. He'd walked into this knowing it was a roll of the dice. That he likely wouldn't come out the winner. He had memories, and whether or not that was better than not knowing at all, he probably wouldn't be able to judge for quite some time.
When he came down the stairs, he had calmed, gotten back his control enough to maintain his distance. He shrugged his duffel bag off his shoulder.
"I'm going to the station. We've been running short, and Chief called for anyone to jump in on extra shifts, so I'll be taking as many as I can. I'll tell Garrett."
"Tell Garrett what? That I made a mistake, and you can't forgive me, even give me a chance?"
Tears poured from her eyes, but she stood tall, staring him down. He couldn't have loved her more than he did in that moment. And his love for her steeled his resolve to walk away while they could still recover from this. Much more, and his heart would shatter.
"I'm going to tell Garrett this is how it has to be. We all knew the risk, and we took it. It's not your fault, and I'm sorry if that's how it sounded. The fucking neighbor just brought home exactly why we can't do this. Garrett isn't going to accept taking on a full three way relationship, and neither is the rest of the world." He sighed. "We must have been insane, me and you, to even think so."
She reached her hand out, but he backed away. He wanted to grab her and pull her into his arms, tell her it was all a mistake and they would figure it out. Hold her and wipe that gut-ripping look off her face.
A sob hitched in her voice as she pleaded with him. "Don't let this go too far; you're letting one mistake get to you, letting it convince you to let go of us, of me."
"Oh, you have no idea how much it's getting to me, but it has nothing to do with her, with that. It's a fantasy to think we can love each other. That we can just all settle in together like we aren't the fucking freaks we are. That's not the real world, and the real world is that I'm the odd man out, always will be. The real world is Garrett, is your husband, not me. The real world is he isn't going to accept me loving you. Fucking you, sure. Love, no. Maybe I just need someone I don't have to worry about losing because I'm not really married to her."