Homewrecker (Into the Flames #1) (23 page)

When I pull into the driveway the last thing I expect is for Gunnar to be home. It’s still early, he should be at practice. I drop my bag by the door, figuring if he’s home early he’s probably going to be in a bad mood. When I find him, he’s out on the deck in a hoodie and shorts with his feet propped up on a chair and the hood covering his face. The grill burns, crackling beside me and it doesn’t take him long to realize that I’m behind him.

“Hope you don’t mind but I’m cookin’ us steaks for dinner,” he says without turning around.

“That works for me. I wasn’t sure what to make anyway.”

“We have to talk, Kennedy.” The words and tone in his voice make my stomach drop. We’ve been skating around what happened for so long that I was beginning to think maybe he had forgotten and everything that had been going on was all in my head.

Closing my eyes I drop back against the side of the house and sigh. “I don’t want to fight, Gunnar.”

“You think I do?” he asks, raising his voice. My eyes fly open and find him turned around in his seat, staring at me. “I hate fightin’ with you, baby. It fuckin’ kills me.”

Reaching his hand out for me, he waits until I step forward and grab it before pulling me around the chair and down into his lap. I try to move out of his grip but he doesn’t let me so I settle back against his chest. Raking his fingers through my hair, he moves it off my neck and over my shoulder. When his breath skims across my bare skin, I sigh. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve been close enough to feel it and it’s something I miss like crazy.

“This is crazy, Kennedy. Ten years of bein’ married. Over twenty of you bein’ in every single memory I have. Yet here we are fightin’ about stupid shit because neither one of us can seem to talk to the other about what happened.” He sighs, tightening his arms around my middle. “Talk to me. Tell me why you tried to stick your finger in my ass so we can move past it. You’ve never hinted that you wanted to do that before.”

The voice in the back of my mind screams because nowhere in what just came out of his mouth was any indication that this fight might be because of something he did. I swallow down the angry comment that is trying to force its way out and take a deep breath. All saying it will do is cause more of a fight.

“I know you’re holding back from me and I hate it,” I whisper. “I love everything about you, including how you treat me like glass sometimes. But at the same time, I hate that you think I’m going to break if you let loose.”

“You think I’m keepin’ shit from you?”

“No.”
Well, not anything close to what I’m keeping from you…

“Then what? How am I holdin’ back from you?”

Pushing his arms away I get up and flip the steaks, giving myself time to figure out what I’m going to say. After closing the grill I head back to where he’s sitting and straddle his lap so I’m facing him.

“I see you, Gunnar. I watch the things you do, how you act. I know you.” Running my hands up his chest, I slide them into his hood and up into his hair. He watches me carefully but doesn’t say anything. “Admit it, for a second the other day you loved it. I could hear it in your voice and for a split second before you flipped out on me, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I would finally get you to give me all of you. That you would be open minded enough to try something new and realize that I won’t break because you let go.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, baby. I’ve always given you all of me.”

“That’s just it, you don’t, and you think I don’t realize it. I watch how forceful you are with everyone. Everyone
but
me. I see it in your eyes every time we’re together. There’s part of you—the aggressive and forceful part—that’s begging to be set free. But you shut it down because you’re either afraid I won’t like it, or that I’ll break.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Scooting closer, I slide his hood off and press my forehead to his. “I’m not a fucking china doll, Gunnar. You’re hurting me more by not letting me experience that part of you. It kills me to think you don’t believe I can handle all of you.”

Pushing me off him, he stands up and plates the food. With his back still to me, he sets it down on the side of the grill and shakes his head. I can feel the aggravation rolling off of him from here, but I can’t figure out if it’s toward me or the situation.

“I don’t want you to feel like that. Fuck, I just wanna be able to go back and take this entire argument back. I want to redo our anniversary and change everything that happened, but I can’t.”

“We’re supposed to be honest with each other, Gunnar. Holding back because you think I can’t handle what you want isn’t being honest with me.” My brain screams at me because I should be following the words that are coming out of my mouth. How much of a hypocrite does that make me?

When he finally grabs the food and returns to the table, he drops down into the chair next to the one he left me in. After dishing it out between the two of us and popping the tops off a beer for each of us in silence, he grabs my hand. Pulling it to his lips, he kisses the inside of my wrist. His eyes are filled with the same regret that I’m feeling but mine is for more than just the fight.

“You’ve been the one person in my life that I knew I could always run to. I don’t like feelin’ like you’re pullin’ away because we’re fightin’. I want my wife back.”

“I never went anywhere. I still crawl into bed every night with you. I still love you like crazy. I just need you to realize that people grow and needs change and if you aren’t willing to change then you’re stuck in a rut. I don’t want that for us, baby.”

“I’m sorry, Kennedy,” he says, sighing. “I don’t want that either.”

“I’m sorry too,” I say, covering my hand with his. Part of me wishes that I could tell him exactly how sorry I am, for everything. For all the things that I can’t tell him, and the things I can’t possibly give up, but I don’t. I might be able to give them up with Dixon if he was willing to give me what I need, but he won’t. No matter how hard I push the fact that he can let go with me, I know he never will. His fear of hurting me somehow is always going to win out. I let the guilt swim in my stomach, but what does it matter when I know that I can’t possibly give up either of them? I can’t deny it anymore, not now. Not when I know I need them both because of what they give me. There is no way to be whole if I have to give up one of the pieces of myself.

After that he lets the conversation go and we eat, making small talk about our day around chewing. I, personally, don’t think anything has been resolved but at least the silence isn’t choking me anymore. We’re back to a place where we’re at least comfortable in each other’s presence and the conversation isn’t completely forced. I still see a break coming though. Once something is fractured, even the smallest bit, one wrong hit will cause a disastrous outcome.

What lies beyond the horizon for us is going to be cataclysmic. I already know that, but even though I see the warning signs flashing at every turn, I can’t avoid the train wreck that I know we are barreling toward at full speed.

Tugging me along behind him, he pulls me down the hall and into bed fully clothed. With my chest pulled flush against his, I run my fingers up his arm and kiss him. Like he was saying earlier, all I want to do is forget this week happened. I want to erase the fight with him and the misunderstanding with Dixon from my mind. I need to show him that I love him even though we aren’t on the same page.

Grabbing my hand, he stops my movement and tucks my arms between us. Pulling me closer, he props his head on top of mine and kisses my hair. “I don’t need that right now, baby. I just need to have you close to me.”

How many times is he going to have to shut me down before I finally give up even trying? It hurts like hell knowing he doesn’t want to be with me that way. I want to ask him if his needs are the only thing that count, because right now I need him to make love to me. I need the connection that we have between us when our bodies move against each other. Instead I keep my mouth shut and stare at his chest, ignoring the tears that silently fall until I know he has fallen asleep. I give him a few minutes, making sure he’s actually out before I slide out of his embrace and make my way back to the living room.

I drop back on the couch and flip the television, instantly regretting it when the screen fills with the image of flames. The ticker on the bottom of the newscast grabs my attention, telling me that the chemical plant on the other side of town is what caught fire. My heart sinks because as bad as they say it is means Dixon is there. Him being there while they evacuate the area around the plant scares the hell out of me. You don’t evacuate a three mile area surrounding a fire and expect everything to be OK. That’s their way of preparing for the worst and minimizing the risk of civilian casualties and injuries.

Glued to the screen, I can’t feel myself breathing as I watch the footage, hoping to see something—anything—to let me know Dixon is OK.

***

“Hey,” Gunnar mumbles, placing a kiss to the top of my head. I don’t move. I can’t bring myself to look away from the television. Thankfully he gets the hint and drops down beside me, mumbling something but I have no clue what because I’m consumed with the smoke still dancing across the screen. “Kennedy!”

I force myself to snap out of my haze and look at him. “What?”

“I asked if you even stayed in bed last night.”

My eyes shoot to the clock by the door and I shake my head. How I’ve been sitting here staring at this screen all night without realizing how long it has been is crazy.

“Oh, no…sorry.”

“You know, if I was a jealous man, we’d have a problem right now.”

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to disguise the fact that I’m completely freaking out at the moment. Inside me, every nerve is on edge. He doesn’t sound mad, but he’s good at disguising his emotions. I try to figure out if he knows what’s going on and he was hiding the knowledge last night, all while trying to listen to the news to hear if they announce the names of the firefighters that went missing a few hours ago.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“It means a jealous man would be thinkin’ the worst when his wife stays up hopin’ to hear from another guy. Especially since she’s never done it before.”

I stare dumbfounded at him for a minute. How do I explain how worried I am about Dixon without revealing what’s been going on? A sudden burst of anger sends me jumping to my feet because Gunnar should be more worried than he is. “Do you see what’s going on, Gunnar? The fire got so out of hand that they brought in the surrounding towns’ fire departments as well. There are two missing firefighters. Dixon won’t answer his fucking phone and the goddamn news won’t say who it is! How are you not worried?”

“Exactly my point, Kennedy. He’s
my
best friend,
my
brother. So why are
you
worried?”

“Don’t pull that shit with me, Gunnar. He’s always been one of my best friends too.”

With every word I say, my voice gets louder but Gunnar, as always, is calm and collected. Once—just one fucking time—I wish he’d show some kind of emotion. The only time I’ve really seen him raise his voice is on the football field.

“He’s probably fine.” He shrugs, switching the TV over to watch game tapes. “Maybe they sent him home and he’s sleepin’, or maybe he’s still at the plant searchin’ for hotspots. It’s not gonna do any good to watch the news.”

My hands shake uncontrollably as I reach for my keys. I’ve never left Gunnar before during an argument other than the other night, and that was only to the other room. It has never been to physically get away from him and never to go see another man, but I can’t stand being in the same place as him right now. He should be more worried about his best friend, and for some reason the fact that he isn’t infuriates me. I know the second I walk out the door everything will change. Whether that’s a good or bad thing is yet to be seen, and right now, I’m not sure which way I would rather it go.

Storming past him, I head out the door and slam it behind me. Every step I take toward my car has the knot in my stomach getting tighter because I’m waiting for Gunnar to come after me, to realize what is actually happening, but he doesn’t. I doubt he even got off the couch or pressed pause on the video.

The car rumbles to life under me and after I shift and peel out of the driveway, I dial Dixon’s number again. Just like every other time, it goes straight to voicemail, so I head toward his house. I don’t know why, he’s probably not there, but I know I won’t get anywhere near where the fire was. I’ve never in my life been this nervous before. The entire drive I feel like I’m going to throw up, and when I finally reach the end of his long driveway, I’m pissed as fuck to find his truck parked in front of the house.

“Dixon, you sonuvabitch! Open this fucking door!”

I pound as hard as I can against the door when I reach it, but it’s obvious that he can’t hear me over the ear splittingly loud music he has playing. I try the knob, knowing even if it’s locked I have a key in the car. Luckily it isn’t and when I push my way in, the smell of smoke is overwhelming. I call out for him again but there’s no way he can hear me since I can barely hear myself think over the noise. He’s not hard to find though, all I have to do is follow the trail of clothes that leads to the basement door.

At the bottom of the stairs I find him pounding away on the heavy bag in nothing but a pair of black boxers. His back, covered in nothing but smeared ash streaked from the top of his head down, flexes with every hit and for half a second I forget why I'm even there. When I finally snap out of my trance, I rush forward, slamming my hands against his back and shove him forward. Dixon stumbles forward before quickly spinning around with his fists raised. The instant he sees that it’s me, he drops them and starts yelling. I can’t hear myself think, let alone what he’s saying over the sound of Avenged Sevenfold’s “Hail to the King”. Reaching over, I grab his iPod off the dock and chuck it at him. It slaps against his chest before falling against the mat covering the floor, not even fazing him.