Man of Honor (Battle Scars) (16 page)

“Always so beautiful, baby. Every fucking time.” With a growl, I pump into her until my seed is spreading warm and free out of me and into her.

My seed.

My body goes rigid; every muscle clamping down in an effort to deny what I just did.

Mea’s quiet gasps blow heat against my shoulder, and I let my head fall against her chest. Pulling out of her slowly, I lay hold of myself above her so I don’t crush her with my weight. She strokes me so softly, her fingers tracing sensual circles against my fiery skin.

“What is it?” She can sense that something’s wrong, and I won’t hold back from telling her the truth.

“I just came inside you. So sorry, baby…I forgot…” I fumble with my words, trying to find it in me to actually feel sorry when in reality nothing has ever felt that good.

Her tender strokes don’t change. “It’s okay, Drake.”

Lifting up to look at her. “Yeah?”

She smiles up at me. “Yeah. About a week ago, I decided it was time to go on the Pill.”

Confusion washes through me as my mixed emotions create a turbulent ocean inside my brain.
What does that mean? Why aren’t I panicked about this?
Never, ever have I come inside a girl without a condom. I can’t even believe I let myself get that carried away. But that’s what Mea does to me. She takes away my control. She makes me feel powerful and powerless at the same time.

The fact that she went on the Pill, for us…it makes me smile.

I lie back on the bed, trying to catch my breath. Mea rolls off the bed, and I watch her as she sashays toward the bathroom. Groaning, I want to follow her. But I force myself to stay put.

She returns a few minutes later, and snuggles back into the bed. I pull the comforter over both of us as a sated sigh leaves her lips.

“Thank you.” The two simple words leave me reeling.

“For what?” The lump in my throat makes words difficult.

“For being a man I can trust. I
feel
you, Drake.” She turns over on her side, her eyes almost glowing in the darkness of my bedroom.

Hearing my own words thrown back at me fills something inside me I never knew was missing. Not until Mea.

And even though I can’t say it aloud, even though I’m not ready to admit it to myself yet, a mantra finds its way inside my head as we both drift off to sleep.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

T
he remaining weeks before the wedding fly by in a blur. The Carolina breezes become warm and fragrant as the crepe myrtle trees start to blossom.

Drake’s kept his promise. He’s been bringing two of the guys from his garage, Will and Hoover, over to work on my studio every evening after he closes up. I’ve made a habit of bringing them dinner each night. So far, barbecue sliders with the marinated pulled pork I made myself in my slow cooker has been their favorite. Will keeps hinting at how good it was, and I giggle every time Drake slaps him on the back of his head in response to his flirty begging.

The very next day after Drake offered to help me realize my dream, I gave Lenny and Boozer my notice at See Food. They were happy for me, and I promised that the restaurant would always be another place I can call home.

I can’t remember a time when I’ve been so
happy.
There’s a man in my life that’s changed my perspective. Mikah is happy and thriving with his job and his life in Wilmington. I think he’s even started dating someone, though he won’t tell me anything about her yet. I know he will when he’s ready.

My best friend is ecstatically planning to marry the man she loves, and my other bestie won’t be far behind. I’m finally going to open the business I’ve always dreamed of owning, and I can claim to have done it independently. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Be able to take care of myself, because I learned the hard way that relying on someone else to take care of you is a dark and dangerous thing.

I’m terrified.

It’s all
too
good.

It’s all
too
perfect.

It’s all
too right.

It means it’s only a matter of time before it all comes crashing down around me. It’s what I’ve been protecting myself from since I was fourteen years old. Good never stays. Good disappears in the blink of an eye.

Good fails. Every time.

So while I’m pushing the thin strap of my black wedge sandal through the tiny metal clasp on my shoe on the night of Berkeley and Dare’s rehearsal, an aching pain in my stomach makes me wince. I straighten and lift my arms over my head, attempting to stretch the pain away. I frown at my reflection in the mirror across Drake’s bedroom. I’m wearing a poppy-red halter-top sundress. The tops of my breasts peek flirtatiously out of the V neckline. I’ve always had enough curves to be proportionate to my small stature, but I’ve never had a problem with spillage. I turn this way and that, trying to figure out why my dress isn’t fitting the way I expect it to.

Drake’s low whistle from behind makes me spin around. He’s entered the room wearing casual gray slacks and a plain white button-down. The sleeves are rolled up just the way I like them, exposing his muscular forearms and the winding black tattoos that snake their way upward.

“You look beautiful, baby girl.” His full lips curve up into a sweet-and-sexy smile.

My stomach flutters wildly when he calls me that.

Sauntering toward him, I stretch up on my toes to kiss him. Taking my hand, he gestures toward the back door. “Ready?”

We stroll out onto the back patio. Right away we’re met by the cathartic sound of waves meeting the sand. I sigh, sniffing the air. “This deck is going to be my favorite place to be this summer.”

Drake locks his door, and then takes my hand again. “Looking forward to that. There’s gonna be a ‘bikini only’ sign hanging right over there.” He points toward one of the lounge chairs.

He leads me down the steps and onto the boarded pathway to the sand. We walk along the quaint boardwalk, observing the private beach behind the row of cottages on Drake’s street. It’s a short walk; Dare and Berkeley live exactly three houses down. We open the gate leading into their backyard, which is decorated for the rehearsal dinner.

Colorful Japanese lanterns hang from the trees, and tiki torches line the pathway leading to their deck. There are Adirondack chairs scattered about, Dare and Berkeley’s favorite form of seating. A long, rectangular table has taken up residence in the middle of the yard, and soft music is playing.

Berkeley and Dare are standing with Berkeley’s parents, over by a buffet table laden with barbecue fixins’. We move to walk toward them when I suddenly realize something.

“Shoot. Forgot my purse.” My mumble warrants Drake’s attention, and he glances down at me.

“I’ll get it for you.” He turns to head back toward our house.

“Wait.” I grab his arm. Normally, I’d be all for letting him return to get my purse. But my stomach is starting to turn, and I swallow back bile as I shake my head. “It’s okay. I can get it. I’ll be right back.”

Drake opens his mouth to argue, but I turn quickly and half-walk, half-jog back down the beach. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s watching me. I smile and wave, knowing he’ll stand sentry there until I get back.

Traipsing through Drake’s backyard, I grab his spare key from under a large stone and let myself into the house.

“There you are.” My purse is sitting right on the bar top where I left it. My wedges move silently across the kitchen tile as I head in that direction. Then my stomach twists, lurches. Heaves. Changing direction, I lurch toward the kitchen sink. Leaning over the stainless steel, I lose the contents of my stomach into the basin.

Sputtering, I lift myself back up and rinse the drain. I lean with heavy hands onto the counter while I catch my breath.

“Dammit!” I slap the granite with my palm. “A stomach bug? Now?”

Grumbling to myself and moving slowly, I make my way to the bathroom. After I brush my teeth and wash my face, I walk with a steadier gait back to the kitchen.

As soon as I grab my purse from the counter, it begins to vibrate.

I pull my cell out and check the screen. Tapping the green icon, I put the device to my ear. “Aunt Tay?”

Aunt Tay’s voice, usually cheerful even after a long day of working around the farm, drifts across the line, tight with worry. “Is this a bad time, sweetie?”

Taking backward steps until I reach a chair, I plunk down at the table. My stomach is full of turmoil today. Now it knits with dread. “What’s wrong?”

Tay sighs. “He called.”

No.

No.

No.

Finding my voice, it leaves my throat as a hoarse bark. “When?”

“Just now.”

Closing my eyes, I picture Tay standing in the big, farmhouse kitchen. She’s standing by the big, double-sided brick fireplace. Wringing her hands, twisting her fingers this way and that. Phone trapped between ear and shoulder.

“What…what did he say, Aunt Tay?”

Silence on the line.

“Tay?
What did he say?
”

My breath is hitched, caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat. My spine straightens, an involuntary reaction to the fear racing along my back.

“Honey…he lies. All he wants is power and control. It’s all he’s ever wanted.”

“Aunt Tay, you called
me.
What did he
say
?”

A deep sigh. “Let’s meet, Mea. I can’t do this over the phone.”

Drake leans against the gate, his posture relaxed and lazy. But when he spots me approaching, he straightens. He studies me as I walk toward him, and as hard as I try, I can’t school my features. Not for Drake.

“What’s wrong?” He’s beside me in an instant, stopping me midstride. His hands stroke my shoulders as he searches my face.

I smile even though it’s weak at best. “Not now, okay? We have a rehearsal to get through. Then I’ll tell you.”

Drake doesn’t move. His big body serves as a mountain in my path, blocking me from continuing any farther. “Just tell me one thing, baby. Did he contact you?”

His eyes are stern, hard. The usually dancing light in their depths is still and cold. He’s serious and he wants an answer. Now.

I toss my curls and give him the most honest one I can at the moment. “No. He didn’t contact me.”

Drake’s body sags as he relaxes each coiled muscle. “Thank God. You sure you’re okay?”

His eyes are still full of concern, but relief is there, too.

I’m not okay.

Taking his hand, I lead him through the gate and into the gathering. “I’m fine.”

The other guests have arrived, and we trek down to the shore, where the wedding is to take place the following day.

Dare and Berkeley will pledge their lives to each other while standing near the surf, the rollicking waves serving as the musical score during the ceremony. It’s where they spent their first date. It fits.

Tonight, we’ll practice for tomorrow. And then, to Mrs. Holtz’s horror, we’ll have a rehearsal dinner in Dare and Berkeley’s backyard, barbecue style. It’s something we love to do, and tonight will be no different. Except for the fact that the couple had the food catered in by the same company preparing the food at their dinner reception tomorrow night.

“You okay? Something seems…off with you.” Carrying a plate laden with barbecue and slaw, Greta settles into the chair beside mine.

The rehearsal went off without a hitch, and now everyone in the wedding party has gathered in the backyard for a well-earned meal. I catch Drake’s eye where he’s standing chatting with Dare’s brother Chase. His assessing gaze takes in everything about me: the way I’m sitting, my company, even my plate of food. I send him a reassuring smile, which he returns with one of his own.

I rest my head on the back of my chair. “Just tired. It’s been a busy couple of weeks.”

Greta takes a delicate bite of pork. Chewing, she studies me. “That’s right. I need to come by and see how the studio is coming along. I’m so proud of you, Mea.”

A smile threatens to split my face. My friends can always manage to mask any inner turmoil going on inside me. “Thanks.”

My mind plays through the scenes from my week. Watching Drake and the boys install flooring into my studio. Directing where they should place furniture in the lobby and in my office. Screaming when they almost dropped one of my mirrors. Late dinners with Drake, cuddled up on his couch. I’ve been sleeping with him every single night. He pretty much hates the idea of me going back to my crappy little apartment, and I don’t mind staying in his much nicer house. Especially when we’re in his bed at night. One late night in his kitchen, when we’d just returned from the studio, something he said to me struck a chord in both of us. It changed the air sizzling between us from sexy and flirty to serious and life affirming.

“Nightcap?” I’m fussing around in Drake’s liquor cabinet, trying to find something to mix with the soda he keeps in the refrigerator.

“How about some coffee?” Drake suggests. His hands find my waist, pulling me up to stand before him.

A small smile touches my lips. “You really have changed. No more drinking?”

He wraps his arms around my waist. “I’ll have a beer every now and then. I’m no saint, baby. But for you…yeah. I’m different.”

I unfold myself from his grasp and head into the kitchen, pulling out the single-serve coffeemaker. Putting a mug under the spigot and a tiny plastic coffee cup in the filter, I turn it on. While the coffee brews, I rummage around in the fridge, pulling out cheese to spread on crackers for a snack. When I turn, Drake is still standing against the counter, his eyes intently locked on me.

I stop. “What?”

He shakes his head, scrubbing a hand down the front of his face. “This.” He gestures around us. “You. In my kitchen. In my bed every night. Damn, girl. I never thought I’d love this so much.”

I’m frozen, staring at him as he pours more of himself into me. He’s perplexed, the little line in his forehead a dead giveaway.

“I just don’t want it to end. I like you being here. I like the way I am when I’m with you. I like us.”

Dropping the cheese on the counter, I go to him. I’m drawn in by his words, by the way his eyes are staring straight through me, by the way his dark and light mix together into a perfect cocktail.

“I like us, too. I’m sorry it took so long.”

He hefts me up, plants me on the counter. Planting himself between my legs, his gaze turns dark and smoky. And I love his dark just as much as I love his light.

Greta and I both gaze over at Berkeley. Wearing a black maxi dress, her hair falling haphazardly over her shoulders in a cascade of blond curls, she’s a vision. She laughs at something Jeremy Teague says to her, probably something completely inappropriate.

“She’s so happy,” I muse, transfixed by her. “I can’t believe she’s getting married tomorrow.”

“I know.” Greta sighs, her crystal-blue eyes soaking in our friend’s joy. When she turns them on me, there’s a glint in them. “So. You and Drake, huh? I always knew it.”

I wave a flippant hand. “Oh, you did not. I was a master of deception when it came to Drake. No one knew.”

Greta throws her head back and laughs. “You were! I thought you hated him. But it was all a ruse.” She wags a “you naughty girl, you” finger at me.

Putting my plate aside, I lean forward. “I did hate him. At least I thought I did. For something that was so completely not his fault. After Berkeley’s wedding is over, I need to tell you guys something I’ve only to this point shared with Mikah and now Drake.”

Her expression changes, worry breaking free through the mask of happiness. Then the expression morphs into one of relief.

“You’re finally ready.” She breathes.

Then she leans forward and squeezes me up into the tightest hug we’ve ever shared. Kissing my cheek before she pulls back, she whispers in my ear.

“We’ve always been ready to know you, Mea. Just been waiting on you.”