Man of Honor (Battle Scars) (10 page)

T
hey moved it up, Mea. Aunt T just called me. His parole hearing is tomorrow.”

I replay Mikah’s statement in my head over and over again, all while lying facedown on my gorgeous, temporary, lavender bed. It even smells like lavender.

This can’t be happening. After what my father did to me, there’s no way they’d just let him go, right? But he’s been in prison for ten years already. Of a fifteen-year sentence. Maybe they’ll decide he’s served his time.

When I know the truth: there’ll never be enough time in prison for him. Not even a lifetime would do.

I’m filled with a perverted sense of relief, because I don’t have to go and say anything at all. The parole board can make their decision without me having to go through the turmoil of seeing my father again and speaking about him to a roomful of strangers.

I think about my mother. Not the vacant one who eventually succumbed to her desire to leave. But the one before. The vibrant one I can just barely remember. The one I hold on to so desperately in my heart. What would she do?

She’d say there’s no point agonizing over something you can’t change. And if there’s a possible outcome that worries you, you don’t have to handle it alone.

I’m tired of handling everything alone. I shield most of what I went through emotionally from Mikah, because he’s my little brother. It was always my job to protect him. I never told my best friends, because how do you tell someone that your father repeatedly assaulted you? It doesn’t come up in casual conversation. It really doesn’t even come up in deep conversations.

I never told a man I loved, because I never allowed myself to love one.

The one man I ever loved hurt me.

I roll over onto my back and then sit up. Staring around the gorgeous room, I make a decision. This is not something I can handle alone. Whether my father is released or not, I don’t want the burden of him on my shoulders alone anymore. I want to tell someone.

Taking a minute, I close my eyes and just breathe. In yoga, the deep breathing of the Shavasana calms you, relaxes you. I give myself about two minutes of the deep cleansing breaths.

And then I know who I want to tell first.

Glancing at the time, I’m shocked that it’s past midnight. I change out of my dress and into comfy yoga pants and a soft tank top. Leaving my feet bare, I tiptoe out of my room and into the hallway. Downstairs is quiet. Everyone must have turned in for the night.

There’s a night-light on the wall in the hallway. I follow the soft glow to Drake’s bedroom door. I don’t bother to knock.

Shutting the door softly behind me, I find him sprawled across his bed. I suck in a sharp breath, because there’s a soft lamp on the bedside table, and I’m able to take in the fact that he’s wearing nothing but charcoal boxer-briefs. His ass is absolutely perfect. I get distracted following the hard, cut lines of his muscular back to his tattoo-sleeved arms. I drink him in with my eyes, because my God he’s beautiful.

He’s asleep, snoring softly. He’s so big, his bare feet hang diagonally off the bed. I creep up and crawl into bed beside him, circling myself into a ball at his side.

Immediately, he tucks one arm around me and groans sleepily. He doesn’t turn his head to face me, but his hand is soft and warm against my ribs.

“Mea.” His voice is rough sandpaper against a wooden surface, and it sends a shiver creeping across my skin.

“How did you know it was me?” I whisper.

He sighs gently before rolling his big body over and pulling me into his chest. He cradles me with both of his strong arms, and I’m so relieved to be here I could almost cry. The lump in my throat is proof of that.

“Because I feel you, baby.”

His breath whispers across my face, and I wrinkle my nose. “You smell like a brewery, Drake.”

“Had a few before I crashed.”

I stiffen. “It smells like more than a few.”

He shifts, and when I look up at him, his eyes are half-closed. He’s barely having this conversation with me right now. Unease courses through my system.

“You were upset. Made me upset.”

I sigh. “Oh, Drake. I told you I was okay. I just needed a little time.”

Shrugging, he tugs me closer. It only takes another minute before his breathing slows and evens out.

He’s asleep.

Half angry with him that I was all geared up, finally ready to tell him my deepest, darkest secret, but he’s too drunk to listen, and half relieved just to be in his arms, I stay. It takes me awhile, but eventually, sleep finds me, too.

I’m standing beside the window in a Warrior pose when Drake’s waking groan draws my attention. Sitting up in bed, he searches the room until he finds me. I pad over to the bed and climb in. He places a soft kiss on my head.

“You weren’t a dream, sweetheart?” he asks.

Shaking my head, I don’t look up. “Nope. And neither was the fact that you were too wasted to talk to me when I came in here last night.”

He sucks in a sharp breath; his chest moves with the effort. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Mea.”

I’m not quite sure if sorry is going to cut it.

“It’s just…before these last couple of months…I don’t remember ever seeing you drunk. And now…” I let the sentence hang.

With a sigh, Drake sits up, pulling me up with him. We lean against the headboard together, both lost in our own thoughts.

“Did you have something important to tell me last night?” His tone is so soft, so gentle. It’s amazing he can talk to me like that, considering his size and toughness. I trace the inky lines on his forearm. There’s a big, Gothic-looking cross there, with lots of tribal lines working around it to make a beautiful mural.

He cups my chin with one hand, tilting it up so that I can see his face. His eyes are red-rimmed, shadowy underneath. It makes me sad.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He mutters a curse. “I fucked up. So, so sorry, baby. I want to be here for you. I do.”

But now, he’s going to have to prove that. So I just tilt my lips in a small smile.

I pull away from him and climb out of bed. “I’m going to go take a shower and see what Berkeley wants to do today.”

As I walk out of the room, I take one last look back at him. He’s sitting in the same spot, his hands covering his face.

If he wants to do this with me, if he wants to be the guy I turn to when I need someone, then he’s going to have to get his shit together. I’m enough of a mess for two people.

“Seriously, Berkeley?” My voice is grumbly as I pull the black leather strap tight on my helmet. “I’m pretty sure this was supposed to be a spa day.”

I glance around me, miles of Georgia’s deciduous greenery reflecting the radiance of the morning sun. I can already picture the miles of dirt trails and exploratory freedom just waiting for us to rip it up. When I turn back to Berkeley, she’s eyeing the acres around us with apprehension.

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, her voice is much breathier than usual. “This is a
couples
Before the Wedding weekend, Mea. Remember? That means we actually have to spend time with the guys. Dare’s pick today was riding ATVs in the jungle.”

She shudders slightly, and a barely suppressed giggle finds its way out of my throat. “Oh my God, Berkeley. Why didn’t you just tell him you were scared to death to do this?”

Berkeley has a lot of talents. I mean, a
lot.
She’s a gifted artist, and she hangs something of her own making on the wall of every interior design job she takes on. But when it comes to organized sports or basically anything that requires her to be physically active, she’s the very definition of the phrase “hot mess.”

With her helmet strapped firmly in place, one arm linked through Olive’s, Greta steps up beside us. The breeze stirs her gleaming raven hair. Berkeley frowns at Greta. Her natural grace and long, lithe limbs ensure that she’ll probably have no trouble handing the motored adventure vehicles we’ll be riding today.

“Dammit, Greta.” Berkeley’s voice carries a note of annoyance. “Why do you have to be so damned good at everything?”

Greta’s brows furrow as confusion puckers her forehead. “What?”

Laughing, I smooth my hand down Greta’s arm. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. Berkeley is going to hate every second of this, that’s all. But it’s too late to go back now, Berk.”

Olive pipes up. Her deep-south drawl is super-size in this environment, and she’s almost trembling with excitement. “Berkeley, it’s gonna be so much fun! We can race the guys and show them how awesome we are.”

When Berkeley turns a disgusted glance of disbelief on the redhead, I pat the helmet she’s still holding in her arms. “Suit up, Blondie!”

Berkeley glares. But at that moment, the guys stroll up to us, looking rugged and sexy and ready to ride. None of them will have an ounce of difficulty with today’s fun, and the machismo is basically rolling off all of them in virile waves of manliness. I try, I really try, not to roll my eyes, but I fail miserably.

And then Drake hits me with one of his rare super-size grins, and I’m a lost little girl looking for a comfortable place to snuggle into, and I almost cross the distance to wrap my arms around him. I clench my hands into fists and squeeze, just to force myself to stay still.

“Babe, why don’t you have your helmet on yet?” Dare’s voice is gentle as he takes the helmet from her hands and places it softly on her mop of curls. “There you go. You ready?”

Her smile falters.

Dare’s grin lights up his entire face. Before he met Berkeley, I heard the guy was a brooder. Not anymore. “I got us a two-seater, babe. You’re riding with me.”

The relief that floods Berkeley’s expression is comical, and we all burst out laughing.

I raise my hands toward the sky. “Praise Jesus. Now, can we get moving?”

Drake gives me a strange look. “What, like you’ve been four-wheelin’ before?”

Strange thing about being in Georgia. Everyone’s drawl seems to get stronger just from the open air and scent of peaches.

I place my hands on my hips and stare him down. “I grew up in Kentucky, and then I lived on a farm in Brunswick County. I’ve probably ridden more ATVs than you have, Mr. Army Ranger Extraordinaire.”

Drake’s eyes narrow with the challenge, and a sexy smirk curls his lips. “Want to make it interesting?”

The guys all hoot, and Jeremy raises his hand. “I’ll take that bet.”

Turning my scowl on him, he gives me a teasing grin and shrugs.

I might be little, definitely the smallest person in this group, but if Drake thinks I’m going to back down from this challenge he’d better think again. The stubborn adrenaline lights a fire inside me, and I stride toward him, holding my hand out in front of me.

I spit in it, and hold it back out to Drake.

The guys hoot again and I hear Berkeley’s quiet “Ewww.” Olive’s laughter is almost musical, and Greta just shakes her head as she leans into Grisham.

“Bet I make it to the end of the first course before you do, Sullivan.”

Without hesitation, Drake spits in his hand and envelops my small one in his enormous one. Glancing down at where we’re joined, heat flows into my lower belly because he tugs me close to his chest. Then, in front of everyone, he plants a soft kiss on my lips.

Leaning close to my ear, he whispers. “Just remember, I never lose.”

Without another word, I turn on trembly legs and mount my ATV. Everyone around us does the same, except for Jeremy. He stands off to the side and raises one arm in air. Dare is laughing so hard he can’t get the words out, but he gestures for Drake and me to pull up in front of the rest of them. Berkeley looks comfy in the front seat, though I have a feeling she’s got a vise grip on her man’s thigh.

I glance at Drake. He’s staring at me, and when he notices my attention he licks his lips and guns his engine. A hot flash thrusts me into a tailspin for a moment, thinking about the way his tongue feels when it touches my skin.
Damn him!
I shake my head. My curls whip against my neck as I pucker my lips and blow him a kiss.

Even from a few feet away, I can see Drake’s reaction to my air-kiss. His bottom lip is tugged into his mouth and his eyes hood seductively.

It’s at that moment that Jeremy’s arm slashes downward, and I grit my teeth and press down hard on the pedal.

It’s glorious; the kiss of sweet southern air rushing past my face and the sensation of speed taking control of you. I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to let go like this. I let out a scream of pure joy as my four-wheeler hits its maximum speed. When I allow my eyes to slide to my side, I see Drake is right there with me. There’s a big grin on his face that tells me he, too, is having the time of his life.

Laughing, I keep my eyes on the trail and notice a narrowing of the dirt path coming up fast. Determined to stay ahead of my competitor, I gun it, and he falls behind me.

Sucker.
I can’t hide my happiness, but deep down inside I know that Drake let me slip ahead. I glance over my shoulder and he’s trailing me closely. It only takes a few more minutes for me to reach the end of the narrow lip of trail, and that’s when Drake really hits the gas. He bullets past my vehicle and reaches the end of the trail just before I do.

I can’t help it when my lips puff out in a pout. We both pull off our helmets and Drake gives me an adorable smile that causes something inside my stomach to shift and flutter. “I thought I had you, Sullivan!”

He shakes his head, pretending to feel empathy for me, when I know all he really feels is euphoria. “A bet’s a bet, wild girl. I won it fair.”

His expression carries a hint of danger, and a sexy confidence that’s all Drake. His biceps bulge through his gray long-sleeved Henley, and it pulls taut over the broad planes of his chest. I can’t help it; my eyes scan every inch of him slowly. Hungrily. A gradual flame has been burning since I saw him this morning, and seeing him now, straddling his ATV, looking all windswept and sexy, it’s going to spread into an uncontrollable fire really quick. His faded jeans fit him just right; I can see the strong ridges of his thigh muscles as he clenches the seat.