The House on Hancock Hill (21 page)

Out of all the thoughts and emotions that fought for dominance—guilt and pleasure and pain—there was one that sparked violent and unforgiving, flaring into an inextinguishable blaze when I saw it reflected on Henry’s gorgeous face. Desire yanked taut an invisible rope that connected us, and without saying a word, without so much as breathing his name, I pulled him through my door and into the hallway. Henry reached for me at the exact same time, and we collided in an embrace. Before I had the chance to make a move, Henry pinned me to the wall, holding me so tight, he’d leave fingerprints, and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my throat. His scent overwhelmed me, clouded all my senses until I forgot everything outside of the safe confinement of his arms.

“Fuck,” he hissed, startling me with the ferocity of it. “I missed you.” His breath was hot and wet on my skin, and I groaned, lifting my chin to give him room. “So fucking much.” I didn’t think I’d ever heard him swear like this, and I gasped loudly, mind fogging with lust.

“Henry,” I croaked, but any thought fled when he hitched me up with two hands under my ass and fitted my legs around his waist. He brought his face to mine and kissed my mouth with hunger, his tongue a sweet and welcome invasion.

“Remember,” he whispered. “Remember what I said that last time we—”

“Yes,” I moaned, clinging to his shoulders and squeezing my legs around him. “Oh God, yes.”

Some small part of me wanted to slow things down, wanted to kiss him and undress him with care, show him my living space first, maybe. But I could feel how hard Henry was, and when he unbuckled me with one hand, tugging my cock out of my slacks and boxers, I didn’t last two seconds. I came with his mouth on mine—not kissing, just panting hotly—so violently I saw stars. When Henry dropped my legs, I didn’t even try to remain standing. I sank to my knees and sucked him off without thinking twice about it, Henry’s palms planted to the wall above my head in unconscious tribute to how we’d done this before. Even as he came in long, hot jets of cried-out pleasure, I sank my fingers into his thighs and shoved him deeper down my throat, needing this moment to last.

“Jesus,” Henry said weakly, after, when I’d found my feet again. “I didn’t mean for that…. Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course I am.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and remorse flickered over Henry’s eyes like a dull veil. With an almost unbearably loving touch, he straightened first my clothes and then his own.

“God, I’m sorry,” he whispered and he rubbed my bottom lip with his thumb. “I didn’t even take the time to kiss you hello.”

“I don’t deserve it,” I mumbled. “Not after—”

“Don’t,” Henry interrupted me. “Not now. C’mere.” With a palm between my shoulder blades, he drew me in. I couldn’t do much more than fist my hands into his shirt and hang on as he kissed me, sure and tender. God, nothing could compare to this. Butterflies burst to life in my belly at the feel of his tongue on mine. I slotted myself more firmly into his embrace, feeling like I’d come home for the first time since setting foot into my apartment after I’d returned from Hancock. Henry trembled in my arms ever so slightly, and I wanted to soothe him, take him into my bedroom and strip him bare and have him all over again. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember a single reason why I couldn’t have this, what had made me run. I’d been a fool. I loved him.

The thought made me gasp, and then it made me laugh. He straightened and looked down at me with a bemused smile, fingers combing absently through my hair.

“What?” he murmured, lips and cheeks flushed red.

“Henry—” I began. I
loved
him, screw everything else, and I was about to tell him this when I heard the door bang downstairs. There was a noise of something dropping, and then soft footfalls climbed the steps.

“J
ESUS
C
HRIST
,
Jason” came Tom’s voice through the door that hadn’t clicked entirely into its lock when Henry and I had pounced on each other. “You should tell that bookstore owner to do something about—” Automatically, I took a step away from Henry before Tom burst through the door. Henry’s eyes narrowed, but he let me go. “Oh.” Tom fell back even as he pushed against the door. With one glance, he measured up Henry, my messy hair, the entire situation, and pulled himself together. “I’m sorry,” he said, completely in control again. He held out his hand, and Henry warily shook it. “I didn’t realize you had company, baby.” I bristled, but before I could get a noise out, Tom was barging on. “I’m Thomas Ross. I’m sorry if I interrupted something.”

Henry didn’t supply his name but let go of Tom’s hand. “You didn’t,” he said at the same time I snapped, “You did.” Henry closed off fast and panic flared in my gut, wild and uncontrollable.

“Tom,” I said, stepping between the two of them as if Henry needed shielding. “This really isn’t a good time.”

“Yes, I can see that. I do apologize.” His gaze flicked from me to Henry, and I resisted the urge to look back, check what Henry was thinking. It wasn’t necessary. The small smile Tom couldn’t hide told me everything I needed to know. I almost physically pushed Tom out the door, but he got his last blow in. “I just wanted to talk to you about our trip to Florida tomorrow morning. I’ll call you later this evening, all right?”

“Henry,” I said, finally daring to face him. He no longer looked like he belonged, no longer made my apartment seem like home. Tom’s words had changed his bearing, subtly but unmistakably; his wings had been clipped when he should be soaring. “Please, don’t leave. Just give me a moment, I will be right back.”

At first I thought he’d refuse, but he relented with a sigh, shoulders hunching. “I’ll wait.”

Surprising both Tom and myself, I grabbed Tom by the arm and pulled him downstairs. There were boxes with books cluttering up the hallway, and one of the walls had a peeling Tintin mural on it. “That was a really shitty thing to do, Tom, implying there was still something between us.”

“I didn’t realize I wasn’t implying the truth.” Tom pulled his arm free and straightened his suit jacket. It shocked me to see he meant it. “I want to be on that plane with you tomorrow.”

“I told you, I have to do this alone.”

“All right, I’m sorry, okay? I saw the way he was looking at you and—” Tom snapped his mouth shut, glanced away, then back up at me again. “Of course you don’t have to do this alone, Jason. You don’t have to do
anything
alone.”

“I’m going by myself, Tom.” He stared at me, apparently unable to believe I was serious. I knew he wouldn’t understand, so I didn’t try to explain.

Tom nodded and then smiled, running a hand through his hair. “He’s a little bit gorgeous, isn’t he? Your man upstairs.”

“I don’t think he’s my man anymore, but yeah. I have to get back to him.”

Swiftly Tom stepped into my space and embraced me. “I don’t suppose I’ll see you again,” he whispered against my neck. Having no answer for him, I said nothing, just backed away and opened the door, not waiting to see him go. When I turned around, Henry was watching me from the top step and began a slow descent. What all of this must look like from the outside, I could only hazard to guess.

“Henry—”

“I brought the stuff you left behind,” he said, looking somewhere past my right shoulder, “in case you needed it.”

“Henry, please. That wasn’t what you think. Tom and I are no longer—” A sharp shake of his head shut me up.

“It was a mistake coming here,” he went on, tone tinged with a regret I couldn’t stand. “I just thought….” He looked at the ground. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you here alone after what you’d learned about your dad. But obviously that was foolish of me, Jason. I shouldn’t have presumed.”

Call me Jay again
, I wanted to say.
It’s you I need, I love you, the mistake was all mine
. Instead of voicing any of this, I went numb. I felt hollow and was so tired of all the emotional turmoil. The small black hole between my lungs reminded me of the things Henry was not saying. I opened my mouth to ask him if he’d known about Dad, but my throat seized.

“I should go. You have enough on your mind without me being here. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your dad.”

“Henry, no. Stay. We should talk, at least,” I finally managed, finding my voice. “You must’ve driven seven hours to get here, you can’t—”

“I can, but I won’t. I’ll find a B and B. And Jason?” Henry wouldn’t look at me, and it wasn’t in that slightly bashful way of his. It was because he’d already made his peace. “I’m sorry, but I think I need a clean break. No need to be a stranger for another fifteen years but it’s… it’s time I got over you. Take care of yourself, won’t you?”

“Henry—” I choked up and stepped into his path. My hands were trembling when I fit them to either side of his face. For a moment, he wavered, his honey-golden eyes finding mine. But I had hurt him. I had hurt him and it was too late. He took my wrists and pulled out of my grasp. Henry didn’t say good-bye, didn’t say anything at all, just walked through the door and out of my life as if that was all it took: one step in front of the other.

Chapter 13

D
ESPITE
THE
reason why I was in Tampa, a knot of tension in me eased the moment I stepped off the plane. The combination of cold and central heating in Michigan made me feel like a dried-out prune after five months of winter, so the humidity of the Sunshine State felt like a drink of water soaking right through my skin.

Tampa International was a nice airport, and since I had no luggage to wait for, it took me less than twenty minutes to find my way to a rental car. A Chevy Malibu this time, with less than five thousand miles on the clock. It even smelled new, still.

I took the 92 to St. Pete, the miles-long bridge so breathtaking on that clear day I had trouble keeping my attention on the road. The Skyway Bridge in the distance was a real eye-catcher, and I hoped I’d have the time to go there and check it out. Even if this talk with Mom turned out to be a disaster, I was determined to enjoy at least some of my time here. Maybe I’d see a shark, or dolphins—the only other mammals, if I recalled correctly, to have sex for the joy of it.

The car had A/C, but I rolled down my windows as soon as traffic slowed down and let the warmth fill the air. Maybe I should start thinking about opening a third bakery down here if mid-eighties in the beginning of April was normal for this place. Alice could take over Traverse City, and I could move. Maybe then I’d stop feeling so perpetually cold. A nice daydream until I remembered hurricanes and giant killer mosquitos. Michigan wasn’t so bad.

The GPS with Mom’s address took me to a tiny island connected to the mainland by only one bridge. Davis Island was apparently man-made and, in as far as I’d ever thought about it, much nicer than anything I’d imagined for Mom’s neighborhood.

Even though I was tired from traveling, it felt way too soon when I pulled into her drive. From the outside, the house looked small; the garage took up most of the front, flanked by gently waving palm trees and a six-foot-high fence that hid everything else. I left everything apart from my wallet and phone in the car. I had no intention of staying here longer than I had to, even if by some miracle we did get on.

I rang the doorbell. A soft chime sounded in the distance, and a few seconds later, I heard bare feet pad along tiles. Since I’d spent the entire flight and the sleepless night before it playing this scene through my mind a million times over, I thought I’d be prepared. I wasn’t.

A
TALL
,
slender woman in shorts and a black tank top opened the door. Her blonde hair was piled haphazardly on her head in a messy bun, loose curls gracefully tumbling down. It was dyed, but not obnoxiously so, just the color it always had been. Her tan made her eyes look green and her smile white. She looked good. Healthy.

“Jason,” she said after a long pause, no doubt returning the once-over I was giving her. I briefly wondered what she saw. “Please come in.” She didn’t hug me, which was a relief, but a flare of panic made my heart flutter as I debated what to call her. Mom? Mrs. Bray-Wood? Did she even go by that name anymore?

I decided on, “Hi, Mom,” in the end and immediately felt five years old again.

Her smile was small and sort of knowing when I stepped past her. As she closed the door behind me, she said, “You can call me Lizzie, if that makes you more comfortable.”

Not waiting for an answer, she preceded me into the house. It was a lot larger than the outside gave away. I loved the design. It had a complicated layout with shadowed corridors that could lead anywhere from a closet to a hidden family room.

It was cool inside, and a little dark because the shades were drawn. We went through a hallway, a formal living room, another hallway, and into a large kitchen. Without pausing, she slid open a glass door that led to a deck around a swimming pool. Beyond the pool, I could see the channel and even farther where it opened up into Hillsborough Bay.