Authors: R.K. Ryals
Chapter 14
River
“This isn’t helping anything,” Roman moaned.
He was doubled over in the passenger seat of the truck, his hand gripping the door handle until his knuckles were white.
“Throw up if you need to,” I prompted. “The window’s open.”
Roman threw me a murderous glance. “What the hell are you trying to do anyway?” he asked.
I hit the gas and swerved the truck, pressing the brake so it threw more dirt into the darkening sky.
Grinning, I looked at Roman. “I’m trying to make you feel better.”
The disbelief in his pale face was stark. “By trying to kill me?”
I laughed. “When has tearing through a field in a pick-up ever killed anyone?”
Roman’s hand moved to the dashboard as I swerved again. “Are you turning redneck on me?”
I shrugged, hitting the brake, watching as he slung forward, his hands stopping him. The movement was too much, and he shoved his head out the window, retching into the field below.
“No more redneck than you’ve become,” I told him as he re-entered the truck, cursing.
“You
are
trying to kill me,” he complained.
I turned the radio up, country music blaring through the speakers as I pressed the gas again.
Roman switched the station. “I don’t listen to that crap.”
I switched it back. “I don’t normally listen to it either, but I think you’ve earned it.”
Roman glared at me. “If this is supposed to be some type of intervention, you’ve totally screwed it up.”
I chuckled. “Have I? I apologize. I was going for the whole male bonding experience.”
Roman snorted, his shoulder hitting the door as I swerved again. “Somehow I think it’s more the ‘how much pain can I cause my brother’ experience.”
I hit the brake. “That too.”
Roman was retching out the window again, and I shoved the truck into park, my eyes watching the way the floating dust lit up in front of the headlights, the grass beyond swaying in the evening breeze. There was a light on in the cabin just beyond the field, and my eyes followed it to a bathroom window. The silhouette of a figure stood there, and I could tell by its shape it wasn’t Uncle Marley.
“
Why
are you doing this?” Roman asked, his head re-entering the truck, the back of his hand running across his mouth. I winced at the sour smell, but I shifted the truck back into drive, gassing it before glancing at Roman.
“Because for some misguided reason, I love you.”
Roman clutched his stomach, one hand on the open window, and moaned.
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
I slammed on the brake, watching as it threw Roman into the dashboard, his shoulder taking the brunt of the force, his cursing louder and more vehement.
“This is bullshit!” Roman growled.
I put the truck in reverse, gassing it. It threw Roman backward.
“We lost our father, Roman, in a horrible, horrible way. Don’t think I don’t still have nightmares about it. Don’t think I haven’t lost myself in a beer bottle or two. Don’t think I haven’t considered taking something to help me sleep, to erase the memories. I’m as weak as you are. I’m not stronger. I’m not something to look up to.”
I hit the brake, putting the truck in drive before gassing it again. Roman flew forward. I didn’t look at him. His head went out the window, the sound of retching loud and heartbreaking.
My voice rose. “I ran, remember? If anything, that makes me weaker. You can get past this. I know you can. I lost my father. I won’t lose you, too. If you’re so dead set on killing yourself, then I’ll do it for you.”
Roman’s head re-entered the truck, his bleak gaze meeting mine.
I leaned forward so he could see the intent in my eyes. “I
need
you just as much as you need me, brother. You don’t have to do this alone. I do love you.”
We Braydens didn’t express affection. We just didn’t.
Roman’s eyes were suspiciously wet as he clutched his stomach.
“I’ll stay,” he said finally. “I’ll stay, and I’ll try.”
I sat back, a sigh escaping my lips.
Roman groaned. “Can we get out of the truck now?”
I chuckled, putting the truck in reverse before driving it back to the front of the cabin. I parked, pulling the keys out.
“You’ll try?” I asked, my eyes sliding to Roman.
He nodded, his gaze on the river below. It was too dark now to see it, but he stared at it anyway.
I climbed out, rounding the truck before opening his door, ignoring the streaks of vomit that clung to the outside of the vehicle.
“I don’t need help,” Roman insisted.
He climbed down and immediately stumbled.
I pulled his arm over my bare shoulder. “Maybe not, but I’m giving it anyway.”
We trudged into the cabin. The living area was dark now, one lamp left on, the glow highlighting a figure on the couch, her sandy hair pulled up on her head. The steady inhale and exhale of breath was a sure sign Haven was sleeping.
I deposited my brother on a bar stool next to the kitchen island and opened the fridge.
“I can’t eat,” Roman protested.
There were two tin foil wrapped sandwiches just inside the door, and I took them out, my gaze sliding to Haven’s prone figure. She seemed used to taking care of people. I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had ever taken care of her.
“You need to try,” I insisted, handing him the ham and cheese with mayo before digging a Gatorade out of the cooler. “If nothing else, take a few bites and drink something. You’re going to end up dehydrated.”
Roman took the blue drink I handed him, taking several large gulps before clutching his stomach.
“Take it slower. It’s not a race,” I admonished.
Roman threw me a look. “I just want a shower.”
He took a few bites of his sandwich and a few more swallows of Gatorade to humor me. I had no doubt he’d lose it as soon as he got in the bathroom. I wanted to make this better for him, and I couldn’t.
“There might be some Dramamine in my bag,” I offered.
Roman shook his head. “Just a shower,” he repeated.
He climbed off the bar stool and moved to the bedroom he’d used earlier, pausing just long enough to glance over his shoulder. “I
will
try,” he said.
It would have made me feel better if he’d said “I will stop,” but I had to be happy with try. I nodded, and he disappeared into the room.
I polished off my sandwich, cleaning up my mess before moving into the slate bedroom. Stripping my blue jeans off, I entered the bathroom and turned on the shower. There was the faint scent of apples. My lips curved when my gaze found a small bottle of Suave apple-scented shampoo. Haven.
The shower I took was too short, but I was tired, and I pulled on a pair of plain grey sweat pants with only one objective in mind.
Haven barely moved when I lifted her from the sofa, her damp hair brushing my shoulder as her head rolled into my chest. It put her mouth too close to my nipple, and I shivered with the desire it caused as I carried her into the bedroom, gently laying her on the bed before pulling the comforter over her small frame.
Despite my family’s wealth, I didn’t always need the best of everything. The sofa would be just as comfortable as the bed.
I had just reached the door when the bedside lamp clicked on, her voice stopping me.
“Your feet are going to hang off the end of that couch.”
I grinned, my back to her. “My feet hang off a lot of things.”
She sighed. “I really would prefer it if you took the bed.”
I threw her a look over my shoulder. “Are you offering to share?”
A faint blush crept up her neck, her gaze falling to my chest before moving back to my eyes.
Shifting, I gestured at the room beyond. “It’ll be fine, I promise. The sofa converts into a bed.”
She threw back the comforter and pulled her legs over the side of the bed. “Let me take it then. It can’t be a large bed.”
I glared at her. “Can you let a man be chivalrous?”
She froze. “
Is
there such a thing?” she asked.
The grin came unbidden, my gaze going from her legs to her face. “You’re a funny one, you know that?”
She frowned. “That didn’t sound like a compliment.”
I stepped toward her. “You have a way of making people relate to you.”
She snorted. “I doubt that.”
I was in front of her now, my face peering down into hers. “Really, you do. A few hours of knowing you feels like days.”
“Sounds tiresome,” she teased.
“It’s a gift,” I countered.
There were sudden lines in her forehead, a troubled look in her eye. “Some might call it a curse,” she murmured. “By the end of this trip, you’ll want me gone.”
It was my turn to frown, my gaze studying her face. She had green eyes so dark they could be mistaken for brown and lashes so long they almost touched her brows. True, she was more willowy than curvy, but she was beautiful in an understated, elegant kind of way. The faint freckles on the bridge of her nose drove me crazy.
“Why do you think that?” I asked.
There was something stark and open about her eyes when she answered, “Because I am better at being abandoned than I am at keeping people.”
Chapter 15
Haven
The words came unbidden, slipping from my mouth before I’d even realized what I’d said, my sleep-fogged brain waking up in horror.
Blinking, I looked away. “I didn’t mean that.”
River didn’t say anything for a long moment, our breathing the only sound in the room. Inhale … exhale. Inhale … exhale.
He shifted, the muscles in his arms bunching as he lifted them. The possibility of River touching me made me tense, and his hands fell again.
He cleared his throat. “You have a lot of experience with abandonment?”
It was the wrong question for him to ask.
I backed away. “I didn’t mean that,” I repeated.
The back of my legs hit the bed, and I froze. I didn’t like the way River looked at me now. I wasn’t sure if it was pity or something more complicated, and I hated myself for finding him attractive. Roman’s words from earlier kept haunting me, his yelled accusations about River, about how he’d run away. It hadn’t taken much to put two and two together. We came from a small town. Everyone knew about the Brayden murder a year ago, and Poppy had refreshed my memory with the article at work. River had run away from his family out of grief. I didn’t need to find myself attracted to someone who found running an easy out. My dad had been a runner, and yet River had done something I knew my father would never do. He came back.
“You meant it,” River said, his words low, deep.
My gaze slid to his, watching as his brown eyes searched mine. “I shouldn’t have said it.”
“But you did,” he responded.
I snorted. “You’re not being chivalrous anymore. Chivalrous men would let it go.”
One corner of his lips lifted, the smirk both challenging and dangerous. “I never said I liked being chivalrous. Manners are bred into me, but it doesn’t keep me from being curious.” He took a step toward me, his eyes narrowing. “There’s something about you …”
His words trailed off, and my hand went to the quilt on the bed as I stumbled back. “There’s nothing,” I insisted.
His grin widened. “I make you uncomfortable.”
Scoffing, I crossed my arms. “The hell you do.”
There was something predatory about his gaze now, a glinting look in his eyes I suspected drew more than a few women to his bed. I wasn’t that innocent. I knew that look.
“Sometimes it helps to forget things.” He was in front of me again, his hand coming up to my face, pausing before sliding against my cheek, moving with infuriating slowness to my neck before tangling in my hair. The rubber band I was using to keep it up snapped, my hair falling like a wavy, apple-scented curtain around his fist.
I swallowed hard. “I don’t like to forget things.”
His face was so close now, I could smell the minty scent of his toothpaste, could see a small scar on his forehead, and a small bump in his nose as if it had been broken before but didn’t heal perfectly. It seemed he and Roman had a thing for broken noses.
“Why?” he asked me. “Is it because you like to hold grudges?”
I had a hard time remembering what we were talking about. Something about how it helped to forget things and how I didn’t like to forget them. His fingers tightened on the back of my head, turning my face up so that his lips were just above mine. I almost pulled away. I didn’t kiss strangers. Everyone I’d ever had a relationship with had been a friend first, someone I felt I could trust to some extent before I kissed them. I wasn’t sure I could trust River. There was something dangerous and terrifying about that. It didn’t help that he was a blue blood, that he was someone entirely inappropriate.
“No,” I whispered. “I don’t like to forget things because I don’t like to repeat mistakes. I don’t like feeling out of control.”
His breath was on my face, on my lips, and I shivered.
His gaze dropped to my mouth. “Because being out of control means letting someone else run your life? I’ve got enough experience with that for both of us.”
And just like that I wanted to kiss him. Not because he looked hungry, desperate for something to take away his tension, but because he looked like he was out of control and I had plenty of experience with control. We both had something the other needed, whether we knew each other or not. He’d lived a life under someone else’s control. I had lived mine needing control for survival.
When my fingers touched his face, his eyes widened, as if he was shocked I’d take any sort of initiative, but then the look in them changed, grew heavy with something I had little experience with. Desire.
The pressure of his lips on mine when it came was shocking, electric. I’d kissed boys before, had even lost my virginity at sixteen in an awkward moment with a friend of mine I’d dated for two years, but there was something different about this.
One of River’s hands pressed against the back of my head, his other sliding down to my back, his fingers playing with the hem of my shirt before resting on my hip.
His lips tangled with mine, his tongue seeking entry into my mouth. I gave it to him, the warm feel of him overwhelming as I clung to his shoulders, my palms sliding to his arms. The muscles there were tense and hot, full of restraint despite the urgency in his kiss. I could feel the slight swell in his skin where Roman had head butted him, but it didn’t seem to be bothering him. His passion burned me, causing my toes to tingle and my skin to catch fire.
River pulled my hips into his, and I gasped at the contact, at the hard feel of him against me. My fingers dug into his skin, my hips pressing against his in a silent battle we both seemed to be fighting, a desire to be close without crossing the lines. His palm slid down to my buttock, deepening the contact, and I whimpered without meaning to, the sound becoming an invitation I felt too willing to give.
When his palm slid to the back of my leg, lifting it so that he could settle against me, I didn’t fight it, I welcomed him. His mouth had slipped from my lips, his tongue pressing against a sensitive spot just below my ear. As he pushed against me, his sweat pants tight where they pressed my middle, his lips returned to mine, tangling with them in a frenzied dance that matched our hips.
Pressure built within me, and I heard his moan as we stumbled against the bed, his hand catching us, his fingers splayed on the comforter. My leg climbed higher on his back.
“Haven,” he whispered against my lips.
There was no doubt there was something he wanted to say, but a loud bang interrupted him, the sound of a door slamming loud in the quiet cabin.
River and I froze, our breathing hard as he held me above the bed, one of my legs wrapped around him, our eyes locked.
There was cursing beyond the bedroom door, the sound of Roman’s voice obvious as he stumbled in the dark. There was dry retching and more curses.
River’s eyes closed, his forehead crinkling with helpless pain.
“I should go,” River whispered, but he didn’t move, his body still resting against mine, his breathing slowing despite his racing heart. My shirt had ridden up, the fabric bunched just below my breasts, and I could feel the skin of his abdomen burning against my stomach.
My gaze searched his. “He needs you,” I whispered back.
He nodded as I let my leg drop, using one of my hands to brace myself against the bed.
River backed away, pulling my shirt down gently. “Look—” he began.
I shook my head, my gaze going to the door, my cheeks burning.
“You go do what you have to do. He’s in a lot of pain,” I interrupted.
River moved to the door, the lost contact making me shiver from the sudden cold. There was certainly nothing wrong with the air conditioner in this cabin.
Pausing at the entry, River glanced over his shoulder, his forehead creased. “Who are you?” he asked.
I didn’t understand the question, so I just stared at him.
He shook himself and moved out of the room. There was murmuring beyond the door as River called out to Roman and got a weak reply.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pressed my fist into the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, what had compelled me to let him kiss me. All I could see was the look in his eyes, the one that screamed words he probably didn’t know were
there, a gaze that begged for shelter. Mom had once told me she’d named me Haven for two reasons. The first because it had sounded romantic when she’d read it in a book, the second because having me in her life had rescued her, had given her a reason to live for something, had given her a reason to keep fighting for better things. I was her haven.
For a moment, I could swear I’d seen a similar look in River’s eyes when he looked at me.