Unbeautifully (18 page)

“There is an old story passed down through the generations of a Native American grandfather counseling his young grandson, telling him that he has two wolves living inside of him, constantly fighting each other for dominance. One is the wolf of peace, love, and kindness. The other represents fear, greed, and hatred. The boy asks, ‘Which wolf will win, Grandfather?’ and the wise old man replies, ‘Whichever one I feed.’ ”

Eva stared at her, wondering what the woman was talking about.

“I’m sorry,” Eva said, “but I don’t under—”

“May I be frank?” Kajika asked.

“Of course.”

“It’s no secret you are in pain; it is also no secret why. Not in this house.”

Eva snorted. Nothing was secret in Cox and Kami’s house. Both of their neighbors, each a mile away in opposite directions, could hear the two of them screaming at each other. Eva was surprised Kajika had stayed as long as she had.

“You’re afraid,” she continued. “And if I know it, he does too.”

He being Deuce, Eva guessed.

“And your fear is perpetuating his, a vicious cycle that unless stopped will do nothing but continue to grow. Before you know it, you will no longer know each other.”

Kajika’s dark eyes looked kindly upon her. “You must feed the wolf of peace some love before it is too late.”

Eva said nothing; there was nothing to say. Kajika was right. She was afraid. Afraid and ready to run, just as she’d always done where Deuce and she were concerned.

After planting a kiss on Devin’s cheek and gathering up Ivy, Eva gave Kajika a small smile and headed outside.

Once she and Ivy were settled inside her truck, she called Deuce back.

He answered after only one ring. “Where you at?”

She swallowed hard. “Still at Kami’s.”

He cleared his throat, something he never did. He was hesitating. Her stomach dropping with dread, Eva held her breath and waited for what would come next.

“You headed home?”

“Do you really want me to?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “I do.”

Don’t be afraid, she reminded herself. Don’t be afraid. But she couldn’t help it. She was terrified of what might happen, but more so of what might not happen.

“Deuce—”

“Just do it, Eva. We gotta talk.”

Biting her lip, she looked out the window, across the beautifully manicured field that constituted Cox and Kami’s front yard. She couldn’t handle another failed attempt at being together. It would break her.

She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she whispered. She had barely gotten the word out before he hung up.

“Mama?”

Shoving her phone in her purse, she glanced over at her daughter. “Yeah, baby?”

“You sad?”

Eva swiped at the tears running down her cheeks.

“Just a little bit, baby,” she whispered, leaning over the bench seat to place a kiss on her daughter’s chubby, dimpled cheek, then ran her fingers through her tight blonde curls. “But mama’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

With a heavy sigh, she put the truck in gear and headed home.

Twisting the doorknob, Deuce pushed open the side door and walked inside the house. Closing the door softly behind him, he locked it, set the alarm, kicked off his boots, and walked quietly through the dark kitchen, headed for the stairs.

He found Eva on his side of the bed, her body curled around his pillow, sound asleep. He stared down at her for several moments, his hand hovering just over her head, wanting so badly just to touch her, to feel her again without thinking about…

He could do this. He could touch her and it would only be about her and him and no one else. Just her, just him…just her…

Fuck.

He spun away, cursing, and headed for the bathroom. Turning on the shower, he stripped off his clothes, stepped inside, and stood under the spray of hot water, his eyes squeezed shut, wishing, praying for the strength to put his family back together.

Preacher might be the biggest dick to ever walk the earth, but he’d been right about one thing. If he took off, left in the middle of the mess Frankie had made of his club, everything would fall to ruin in his wake.

He had to fix this shit.

He just didn’t know how.

Deuce had never been any good at cleaning up messes. Usually he just ignored them, moved the fuck on, and eventually forgot about them. Or at least tried to forget about them. There were some he’d never been able to let go of. The biggest one being the beautiful woman sleeping on his side of the bed. Eva had been the best mess he’d ever made and now…

He was still making a mess of things between them.

Then, as if she knew, as if she could feel how badly he was aching for her, the shower door clicked open and Eva stood naked before him. His eyes skimmed her body, her heavy breasts and perfect curves, and he hardened instantly, wanting her.

“Can I join you?” she whispered.

He nodded, moving aside to let her in and she stepped inside, filling the small space he’d allowed her.

They stared at each other. Her looking up at him with those big gray eyes filled with pain and confusion and so much wanting, and him, looking down at her, watching her hair flatten against her cheeks and shoulders as the water poured over her.

“I fucked up, Eva,” he hoarsely blurted out. “I got into it with your old man. I was feelin’ shitty and pissed off and I tried to fuck some bitch but—”

He never saw it coming.

Eva’s fist slammed into his jaw with an audible crack and his head whipped right.

“Fuck,” he muttered, cupping his jaw.

“You fucking piece of shit!” she screamed, spinning around and kicking open the shower door.

He lunged for her, grabbing hold of her wrists as he propelled them both across the bathroom. Belly first, he pinned her up against the wall and bent his head to her ear.

“I couldn’t do it,” he growled. “I didn’t even want to.”

“You’re never going to stop!” she cried, struggling against his grip. “You’re never going to change!”

“I didn’t fuckin’ do it!”

“Did you touch her? Did she touch you?”

He fell silent and closed his eyes. “Baby,” he rasped. “It was only—”

Eva went screaming crazy in his grip, thrashing and kicking and shrieking nonsense at the top of her lungs.

“STOP!” he roared, trying to keep a good hold on her but they were both wet from the shower, and Eva managed to twist a hand free of his grip. She spun around, her hand flew through the air and he had only enough time to flinch before her palm cracked down on his cheek and already sore jaw.

“Motherfuck!” he yelled, grabbing for and missing her hand. She slapped him again, this time, on his ear.

“You wanna hit me?” he roared, curling his hand into a fist as she continued slapping and shoving him. “Then fuckin’ hit me, EVA! FUCKIN’ REALLY HIT ME! FUCKIN’ HURT ME, BITCH.
FUCKIN’ HURT ME
!”

He slammed his own fist into the side of his head and he swore he felt his brain do a goddamned backflip.

He hit himself five more times, swift punches, each to his face, one right after the other, bam-bam-bam, before he realized Eva had fallen silent, staring up at him with tears streaming down her face.

“It’s never going to end,” she whispered. “Is it?” Reaching up, she cupped the side of his cheek and ran the pad of her thumb under his eye. “We were doomed from the start, weren’t we, baby?”

Years of heartache and pain grabbed hold of his balls and twisted like a motherfucker.

“No,” he growled, slapping her hand off him and grabbing her face, squeezing her cheeks. “You ain’t leavin’, don’t even think it.”

She tried to shake her head in protest and he squeezed harder, refusing to let her interrupt him. “Shut up and listen to me,” he demanded. “Everything’s all fucked-up right now but that don’t mean it’s always gonna be that way. Shit’s been bad before and we figured it the fuck out, didn’t we?”

When she didn’t respond, he glared at her. “Didn’t we?”

She nodded.

“Yeah, we fuckin’ did. And we’re gonna do it again. I’m gonna fix it, Eva. I came home tonight to start fixin’ it and I’m tellin’ you that I didn’t fuck the bitch. I couldn’t fuck her, not when all I want is you, darlin’.”

He watched more tears pool in her eyes and spill over.

“I’m gonna fix it,” he said fiercely. “And then I’m gonna fix it again and keep on fixin’ it until the bad stops outweighin’ the good, until there ain’t nothin’ but good left.

“You feel me, Eva?” he asked, releasing her face.

She nodded again. “Promise?” she whimpered in a small child-like voice, full of pain and desperation that gutted him straight to his soul.

“Promise,” he growled, grabbing the back of her head and crushing his mouth to hers. A breath, a blink, a heartbeat passed and Eva was gripping him, grabbing at his hair and climbing up his body, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He fought desperately against the images that assaulted him while battling the rising nausea in his gut as he tried to give her what she needed, what they both needed…and failed.

“Fuck,” he whispered, pulling away from her mouth, tears burning in his eyes. “I can’t…not yet.”

“
No
,” she cried, gripping his face, forcing him back. “No, no, no, please, Deuce, please…I’m yours, baby, I’ve always been yours. Please, baby, please make me yours again…please make it good again.”

His tears spilled over and he gritted his teeth, feeling pathetic, hating the fact that he was crying, hating being helpless, just fucking hating everything and everyone.

“Please don’t stop,” she choked out, her own tears falling. “Please.”

He grabbed her before he could think twice about it, determined to make good on his promise. He grabbed her and kissed her and she kissed him back, hard and fast, and in turn he kissed her harder and she gripped him tighter and it became a battle for control, for power, but not power over each other, power over their life together, power to regain control of what had been so brutally ripped away from them.

“Say it,” he rasped. “Fuckin’ say it, Eva, say it right the fuck now.”

“I love you,” she cried softly. “No one else, baby, not like this, not the way I’ve always loved you.”

“How much do you love me?” he asked hoarsely, cupping her breast and squeezing.

“You already know,” she whimpered. “You’re everything to me, everything, you always have been, baby…” She trailed off and peeked up at him with those damn eyes of hers. Staring straight into his rotted-out soul, supercharging him with need.

He needed to lay claim to her once and for all, to strip her of that beautiful spirit, to keep it safe, protected inside him so that no one, not one single motherfucking thing or person could ever take her away from him again.

“You’re my reason, Deuce,” she whispered through her tears. “You always have been.”

He stopped moving and stared at her.

Her reason.

Him.

The knowledge propelled him forward and he found himself pushing inside of her, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, splashing against her chest as he shuddered through the onslaught of both unwanted memories and wanting, needing to be inside of her for so long now and not being able to.

And then…

He groaned as she quivered, moaning as she stretched for him.

Fuck, she was tight and wet and his, she was all his.

“I love you,” she whimpered, her head falling backward. “I love you so, so much, Deuce.”

Fuck him.

“Eva,” he rasped, cupping the back of her head and forcing her to look at him. “Marry me, darlin’.”

A sob escaped past her beautiful lips and her eyes filled up again. He took her mouth in his and kissed her softly, slowly, making his way across her cheek to her ear, where he paused.

“One more time, babe,” he whispered. “Marry me?”

“Yes,” she breathed out.

He closed his eyes.

He was home.

It had taken him nearly half a century to get there, but he’d made it.

He was finally, finally fucking home.

“Deuce?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna have to call Christine.”

His eyes flew open and he glared down at Eva, wondering why the fuck she was talking about his ex when he was balls-deep inside her, asking her to marry him.

“Why the fuck do I gotta—”

She placed a finger over his lips and smiled. “In case you forgot, baby, you’re still married. Kinda makes it hard to marry me.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, closing his eyes again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“She’s going to want money,” Eva mused.

“Yeah.”

“A lot of money.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s—”

“Jesus Christ, woman, shut the fuck up. Here I am tryin’ to fuck you and you’re tryin’ to make me blow a fuckin’ hole in my skull.”

“Sorry.” She giggled.

Deuce glared down at her until he couldn’t continue glaring at her perfect, smiling face and ended up smiling like a damn fool himself.

“Eva?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna fuck you now.”

“Okay,” she whispered, running her index finger underneath his bottom lip. “But, Deuce?”

“Babe?”

“I want it slow.”

He grinned.

Then he gave it to her slow.

“Hello?” I said breathlessly, nearly falling out of bed trying to grab my cell phone off the nightstand.

“Eva’s tellin’ me you’re campin’ with Anabeth and her family?”

My brain stalled out.

Father.

My father was on the phone.

And I’d completely forgotten about everything other than Ripper and the past week we’d spent together.

“Yes,” I choked out, my hand over my pounding heart, trying desperately to swallow the sudden anxiety that, at the sound of my father’s voice, had lodged itself in my throat.

“Yeah, well, I’m back, so when you comin’ home?”

“Tomorrow,” I said quickly.

There was a long pause. “Like to spend some time with you, baby girl,” he said gruffly. “I know I’ve been—”

“Don’t,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut, counteracting my burgeoning tears.

“Danny girl,” he said softly. “I—”

“Please, Daddy, don’t do this now, not over the phone.”