Dawson's Fall (Welcome to Covendale #5) (13 page)

“And Sheriff Tanner told you all that.”

“More or less. He wasn’t too polite about it, though.” Jonah cracked a smile. “Anyway, she might be good for you.”

“Christ, Jonah, don’t you do this to me.” Mark glared at the table, and eventually managed to relax enough not to shout. “Look, I’m glad to know you don’t hate her,” he said. “We’re kind of…hell, I don’t know what we are. Speaking to each other.” And having incredible sex, but he wasn’t sharing that with his brother. “But it can’t go any further, and you know it.”

“Further than what?”

He sighed. “For one thing, she wants to have fun.”

“Then she’s definitely good for you.”

“Come on, man,” he said. “You know how I feel about that.”

Jonah gave him a serious look. “Actually, I don’t,” he said. “But I’d love to know why you think all work and no play is the best way to live.”

“Forget it. I’m not having a heart-to-heart with you,” he said. “I’m not nearly drunk enough.”

“Spill it, or I’ll beat it out of you.”

“I’m a goddamned adult, Jonah!” he snapped. “I’ve got responsibilities. A company to run. I don’t have time for
fun.
”

“And?”

His jaw clenched hard. “And the last time I was out having fun, Mom died. Okay? So don’t tell me I need to relax.” He closed his eyes. “I never should have gone to that party. If I’d been there…”

“Then what? She would’ve lived longer?” Jonah said. “You’re an idiot.”

“What?”

“Don’t look so damned butt-hurt.” Jonah stared at him unblinking. “Mom had cancer,” he said. “She got sick. She died. And it was
not
your fault. Understand?”

Fresh anger coursed through him, and he barely held it in check. “It was my fault I wasn’t there,” he said. “I knew she was dying.”

“So you should’ve hung around and watched her die. Is that it? Because that’s the last thing she wanted.” Jonah leaned toward him. “She wanted you—all of us—to
live.
But you stopped doing that years ago. It’s high time you started again.”

Mark shuddered inwardly. “Honestly…I don’t know how.”

“You can start by having fun with that girl.” Jonah pushed back from the table with a faint smile. “Gotta run,” he said. “Don’t wait up.”

“Yeah. Watch your back, bro.”

“You know it.”

“And Jonah…thanks.”

His brother nodded and left.

Mark sat there for a long moment, the beer forgotten. He’d never thought about it that way—but Jonah was right. Mom wouldn’t have wanted any of them to watch her die. So maybe what he’d done wasn’t so unforgiveable after all, and it might have even led to something good. If he hadn’t kissed Aubrey for the first time back then, he never would have. And they wouldn’t have this…thing. For what it was worth.

Eventually he got up to hunt down a piece of paper. After all, he’d promised to write back.

Chapter 12

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now Aubrey wasn’t so sure. She felt a little silly hanging around the playground in the middle of the night. Okay, a lot silly. Plus it was almost midnight, and Mark still hadn’t shown.

Today had been another busy day at work, since the crew was doing extra so they could have Saturday off. She and Mark had spoken all of twice—well, technically once. The second time he’d just pressed a folded piece of paper into her hand without a word. He looked a little embarrassed, and completely adorable. When she opened the note to read it, she had to smile.

All it said was:
I’ll be there.

She figured he wasn’t much of a note writer. But at least he was making an effort—or would be, if he actually got here.

Right at midnight, a figure strode across the darkened field toward the lit playground, hands in his pockets. She waited until he reached her, and said, “You made it.”

“Yeah.” Mark looked around slowly. “Haven’t been here in years,” he said. “It looks…smaller.”

She laughed. “You’re just bigger.”

“I guess.” He wore a dubious expression. “So what are we doing here?”

“Having fun. Remember?”

“Right. How do we have fun?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “What did you used to do on the playground?”

He smiled crookedly. “Nothing. I was usually in time-out or detention.”

“Oh. Well.” She took his hand on impulse, and it felt so right that she left it there. “I always loved to swing,” she said. “Want to?”

“I guess.”

“Don’t sound so excited.”

That wrung a smile from him. “I’ll try to tone it down.”

“Good.” She led him over to the big metal swing set—two sections, three swings each. “I remember, me and Beth always fought over the middle ones,” she said. “They go the highest. Mind if I take the middle?”

“Knock yourself out.”

She settled on the flexible seat, feeling the momentary bite of cold rubber through her jeans. Mark hesitated before taking the swing to her left. “This’ll be great,” she said. “I used to stay on these things until I was dizzy. It’s like being drunk without the hangover.”

“Huh,” Mark said. “I hope you didn’t know that when you were eight.”

“No,” she laughed. “But I know it’s fun. Ready?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s go!”

It only took Aubrey a minute to remember the rhythm of pumping and leaning, going with the force to push the swing higher. Soon she was soaring, the wind rushing her face as she headed forward, and the delicious swoop of dropping back weightless, feeling like you’d hit the ground before momentum carried the swing to the height of the arc. It was every bit as fun as she remembered.

Then she realized Mark was just sitting there, watching her.

Her mood dulled a bit as she dragged her feet through the mulch beneath the swing set, first slowing and then stopping. “You’re not swinging,” she said.

He gave a slow shrug. “I’m working up to it.”

“Come on,” she said. “You can’t have fun if you don’t even try it.”

“I am having fun.”

“Seriously, Mark. Just try it.”

His hands tightened around the chains, and he stared at the ground. “I don’t know how.”

“To have fun?”

“To swing!” He breathed out slowly, still not looking at her. “I don’t know how to swing, okay? I’ve never done it.”

You’re kidding.
She resisted saying that out loud—because she could tell he wasn’t, and he was mortified about it. Her heart went out to him. “Well, it’s never too late,” she said. “Let me show you how.”

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. But he turned toward her, and said, “I guess if you really want to…I’ll try.”

“I’ll try, too,” she said with a smile. “I’ve never taught anybody how to swing.”

“Yeah, well, good luck teaching me. Graceful is not my strong suit.”

“It’s not about grace,” she said. “It’s about momentum. Like in physics.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Trust me. You’ll get it.”

She talked him through the process, explaining how to pump his legs to get started, to lean back and push on the way forward, and straighten and pull going back. After a few wobbling half-starts, he was flying almost as high as her.

The look of sheer wonder on his face brought tears to her eyes.

She couldn’t help watching him discover the simple joy of swinging. Eventually he closed his eyes and leaned back, losing himself in the motion and the moment. She’d bet his brothers would love to see him like this. But the experience was hers—and she was grateful for that. Maybe it was greedy, but she didn’t want to share it right now.

His eyes opened, and he looked over at her. “Quick question,” he said.

“What?”

“Um. How do I stop?”

She laughed so hard, she almost fell off the swing. “A little at a time,” she said. “Let your legs dangle, and drag your heels on the ground while you’re going back.”

“Okay.” Doubt edged his voice, but he managed to slow himself gradually and stop.

She stopped pumping and let the swing slow a bit. “Check this out,” she said. When she’d gone to about half-height, she timed her release from memory and jumped out as the swing moved forward. She even managed to land on her feet, with a slight stumble. “Whew. Used to be able to jump from a lot higher.”

Mark grinned. “Showoff.”

“Hey, you were great for a first-timer.” She walked over to him as he stood from the swing. “You okay?”

“I’m good. Really good.” He smiled. “Thank you for that. It was…fun.”

“Well, I’m glad,” she said. “I had fun too.”

“So…” He glanced around the playground. “What should we do now?”

“I don’t know. What else is fun?”

His sudden, hungry expression made her pulse race. “I can think of something,” he said, reaching out to trace her jaw with his fingertips. “But it’s not playground appropriate.”

She groaned softly. “My place?”

“Meet you there.”

“Hurry,” she said.

Flashing a smile, he bent and kissed her. “Five minutes, tops.”

They headed for their separate cars, and Aubrey wished they’d come here together. Because right now, five minutes was way too long to have him out of her sight.

* * * *

Mark reached Aubrey’s place about a minute behind her, and only because he’d been a little distracted on the way over. The desire was a flame burning in him, fueled by something a lot more than physical.

He never would’ve believed that he’d find his happiness on a playground. But there it was. Something in him had changed, lifting the weight he’d been carrying for longer than he could remember. And it was all because of a swing, and a Monroe.

No—not a Monroe. He no longer thought of her that way, his family against hers.

It was because of Aubrey.

She let him in, and they headed for the bedroom without speaking. He intended to take his time, to fight his frantic need and tend to her pleasure first—but her passion blazed just as hot, and waiting was out of the question.

They came together like a storm, intense and furious, escalating quickly to an explosive peak. At some point he called her name as she clung to him, back against the headboard, eyes half-closed and fluttering. Her shuddering climaxed fueled his own, momentarily blinding him to all but sheer sensation.

Spent and aching with pleasure, he lay down and drew her to him, cradling her body as she rested her head on his chest. He stroked her hair with near reverence, and murmured, “Have I told you how incredible you are today?”

“Mmm.” The small sound vibrated through him, warm and comforting. “Tell me again.”

He laughed softly. “You’re incredible.”

“Right back at you.” She sounded as deliriously sated as he felt. “Hey,” she said. “We should try swinging naked.”

“I think that might be a little too much fun.”

“No such thing as too much.” She shifted slightly and looked up at him, suddenly serious. “Mark…I’m going to tell them.”

His brow furrowed. “Tell who, what?”

“My family. About us.”

He stilled as a tangled swell of emotions flooded him. Hope and horror, love and fear. One caught his attention above the rest—love.

He loved her. And he never wanted to see her hurt…which would happen if she told her family.

“You can’t,” he said.

“I knew you’d say that.” She lifted her head without moving away from him. “But I’m going to,” she said firmly. “Yes, they’ll be furious. And maybe one of them will try something stupid, or maybe they’ll write me off for good. But I’m done toeing the Monroe line.” She reached for his hand, twined her fingers through his. “My life, my choice,” she said. “And I choose you.”

“God, Aubrey,” he rasped. “You really want to…”

She nodded. “I don’t want to keep us secret.”

“Neither do I.” A smile broke through his reservations, and he allowed himself to hope they could be together. No risk was more worth taking. Maybe it would mean losing his business, if the Monroes decided to retaliate—but he’d finally realized that he’d rather have her. “Listen, do you want me to be with you?” he said. “When you break the news, I mean.”

“No. I wish you could, but I’ve got to do this myself.” She squeezed his hand briefly. “I’m supposed to have lunch with them tomorrow,” she said. “That’s when I’ll tell them.”

“If you’re sure…”

She smiled. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

“All right. Then I’ll tell Gage and Luka.” He smirked. “Jonah already knows, because he’s a meddling bastard.”

“Wow.” She let out a shaking breath. “We’re really doing this. Romeo and Juliet, together at last.”

“Er, let’s not be Romeo and Juliet,” he said. “They died.”

“Oh, right. It’s been a long time since twelfth grade English.”

“Yes,” he said, closing his eyes against a rush of emotion. “An eternity.”

But the eternity without her was over now.

Chapter 13

Lunch was going exactly as Aubrey had expected. Horribly.

She’d dropped the bomb a minute ago, and so far there’d been nothing but frozen silence. Her father wouldn’t even look at her. This was the right thing to do, and she was determined to stick to her guns—but they weren’t going to make it easy.

Jason was the first to speak. “This is some kind of sick joke,” he said. “Right?”

“I’m not joking,” she said. “Look, you don’t know anything about him. Both of you have spent your whole life judging him, and his family, on something that none of them had any control over.” She clenched her hands together hard beneath the table. “I know you’re upset, but how is that fair?”

“Fair has nothing to do with it.”

Roger spoke in a hollow, guttural tone, unlike anything she’d ever heard from him. His fury was a living thing prowling the room. “What is it, then?” she said. “Revenge? Settling the score? If you’re playing some kind of game, then we win by default. Because they lost twice.”

“So they should get you to make up for it?” Jason said. “I don’t think so.”

“Listen to me,” she said. “This is not a game, and I am not a prize. I
want
to be with Mark. He’s a good man, he works hard—and he doesn’t make decisions for me.”