Lost Hart, page 9
He kissed her shoulder blades from one side to the other, sweeping her hair off her back as he did so, before finally pulling out. They’d had the conversation about past partners earlier in the week, and neither of them had been with another person since the last time they were together. She wasn’t ready to go on the pill just yet, but she figured they could use condoms in the bedroom and pull out in the shower.
She pushed herself up to standing using the wall for support and turned to face him, once again looping her arms over his shoulders and lifting up on tiptoe. “I hope you’re not planning on taking that ice cream home with you.”
He grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She nuzzled her nose against his. “Good. One less thing for me to worry about.”
“Don’t ever need to worry about me. I take care of you, remember? Ice cream, orgasms and all.”
Regarding him with a sarcastic, wry expression, she pulled away from his face but let her arms remain where they were. “Right, because the big bad bald man can take care of himself.”
His cock jerked against her hip, and her eyes flared.
“I can take care of myself, if you get my drift, but there are some things I’d much rather you take care of.” His brows bobbed salaciously over those stunning green eyes.
Smiling, she released his shoulders and slowly sank to her knees, taking his hard length in her palm and angling it toward her mouth. “I can take care of you in other ways, too,” she said before closing her eyes and pushing the crown past her lips.
His hand fell to the top of her head. “Yeah, but let’s just start with this.”
Chapter 10
Thursday night, Stacey sat up in bed with a gasp, her heart palpitating wildly, body in a cold sweat.
It’d been months since she’d had a dream like that.
But it was no dream. Dreams were meant to be pleasant.
This was her worst nightmare.
Her family was being torn from her. Her children taken by faceless men wearing dark hoods, leaving her screaming and reaching out for them, but unable to move.
She wasn’t bound, but her feet refused to cooperate.
It was like she had superglue on the soles of her shoes and was stuck to the ground forever.
The look in Connor’s eyes still haunted her now that she was awake.
He was scared. Confused. And the way he called out to her and reached for her made her blood run icy through her veins.
With shaky hands, she turned on the bedside lamp and checked her phone.
It was only midnight.
Chase had left two hours ago, after a wonderful family dinner and a few energetic rounds in her bed.
She’d fallen asleep shortly after seeing him to the door, exhausted from her day with the children and running errands. No matter if she went to buy one item or thirty, a trip to Costco with two children was always mentally draining.
But even if a trip to Costco to stock up on baby wipes, diapers and multivitamins was the mental equivalent to writing the bar exam after a night of heavy drinking—or so she imagined—she wouldn’t trade her life for the world.
She wouldn’t trade that day for the world.
Her children were happy, healthy and safe.
Exhaustion was part and parcel with being a mother, and she knew these moments were fleeting. In the blink of an eye Thea and Connor would be grown and with families of their own. Hopefully, she’d have grandchildren to spoil and dote on, but she knew the day where her chicks left the nest would come faster than she could ever imagine. So even on the hard days, on the days that seemed impossible and never-ending, she kept her chin up and embraced the chaos, the endless laundry piles and toy-scattered living room. Because too soon it would all be gone.
“Mama?” Her slightly opened door opened wider and a sleepy-eyed Connor stood there with a concerned expression. “I heard you call my name.”
Had she called his name?
She didn’t remember that part of the nightmare.
She remembered screaming, but she hadn’t woken herself up with a scream, let alone his name.
She called him over with a gentle flick of her fingers and he crawled up her bed from the foot. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Just had a bad dream.”
He snuggled into the covers with her. “I had a bad one, too.”
Holding him to her chest, she kissed the top of his head and swept her fingers over his sandy-blond hair. “Want to talk about it?”
“Bad men were taking me and Thea. You were yelling at them to give us back. I was scared.” He cuddled in closer to her.
Crap.
This wasn’t the first time they’d shared a dream.
It’d been happening for a couple of years now. And as Connor got older and could articulate and remember his dreams better, Stacey was realizing just how often it happened between them.
It was wonderful to discuss when their shared dreams were fun and magical, like the two of them holding hands and flying through the cotton candy clouds.
They usually talked about their dreams in the morning over breakfast—if they could remember them—and because she was in his so often, he would ask if she remembered this part or that part, thinking that she knew what he was talking about because she was there, too. They didn’t so much interact in their dreams, but seemed to have similar ones. Shared experiences.
Either way, it was sweet and wonderful and something she looked forward to.
But when they were nightmares like this, she wanted to figure out a way she could sever this connection they had. Who was causing who to dream this way? Was she sending her dreams to him?
Because if so, it needed to stop.
He was only four.
He didn’t deserve the nightmares that plagued her.
He didn’t deserve to experience the horror and fear that she did.
Not at four.
Not ever.
The only person she’d mentioned this to was Joy, and of course, as a therapist, Joy was just fascinated. But she offered little in the way of a fix.
Stacey thought maybe hypnosis or as a last resort some kind of exorcism, but Joy merely laughed and said there wasn’t much you could do. It was a mother-child bond, and one as tight as Stacey’s and Connor’s was nearly impossible to break, and not one Stacey should try to break. It would loosen on its own over time. But because it had been just Connor and Stacey for so long, their connection was strong, so strong they were even in sync in their dreams.
“It was just a dream, sweetie,” she said, sliding them down so they were laying in her bed. “It wasn’t real. Nobody is going to take you or Thea. You’re safe here with me.”
“And Chase, right? He’ll protect us, too?”
For now. As blissful as their reunion was, the jury was still out on whether he was sticking around for good. She held onto hope that he was in this for the long haul, but every so often, a look he gave her or an off-handed comment he’d say had her questioning his permanency.
It was easier to just give Connor what he needed right now and she nodded and kissed his forehead. “Hmm. Chase will protect us, too.”
“Why’d you call my name? Is it because you were there, too? Did we have the same dream again?”
She hugged him tighter. “I think maybe we did, honey. But it wasn’t real. I promise.”
Connor yawned and his eyes fluttered. “Can I sleep with you?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” She reached over and turned off the light.
“Can you snuggle me until I fall asleep?” he asked, his voice soft like he was already half-way there.
“I’ll snuggle you all night if you need me to, baby.” She kissed his head again.
“I love you, Mama.”
Oh God, this kid was going to rip her heart right out of her chest.
She kissed his head again and adjusted them into a more comfortable position. “I love you, too, baby.”
“I’m glad Chase is here. I protect Thea, you protect me and Chase protects you.”
“Something like that.”
“But who will protect Chase? Thea is too little.”
Such big thoughts for such a small person. He shouldn’t be worrying about who was protecting who. He should be thinking and worrying about the next episode of Paw Patrol and what he wanted for breakfast.
“We protect each other,” she finally said.
“Because that’s what families do?”
Stacey squeezed her eyes shut and focused on her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “Yeah, kiddo,” she finally said. “Because that’s what families do.”
But Connor was already asleep.
She spent the rest of the night holding her son, drifting in and out of consciousness, but never deep enough to dream. Never deep enough to bring back the bad men who were trying to snatch her children from her.
Because the only way that would ever happen, would be over Stacey’s cold, dead body.
They’d been doing the family thing for over a week now.
Chase had dinner nearly every night with Stacey and the kids, then they’d bathe the kids, put them to bed, and then bang like they hadn’t banged in months—because they hadn’t.
Then he’d leave, kiss her goodbye and go battle his demons and nightmares on his own at home.
It wasn’t perfect. Fuck, it wasn’t even what he wanted, but it was the best he could offer them at the moment.
He wanted to be with Stacey, wanted to be with those kids and do the family thing. More than he ever thought he would want to. So for now, this scenario would have to do.
It was Friday night, and he knew from talking to Heath and Brock that Rex was set to arrive home from his job in the Yukon around six that night.
So with his balls thoroughly drained and his head feeling clearer than it had in fuck knows how long, Chase realized what he needed to do next.
Rex lived in another part of town, but since Victoria wasn’t that big, another part of town was only a fifteen-minute drive from Chase’s place, even less of a drive from Stacey’s.
He left Stacey’s after a thorough kiss goodbye and was at his brother’s front lobby by eleven o’clock. Rex was a night owl, so unless he was in bed “entertaining” a guest, he was probably still awake.
Parking his truck on the curb, he locked it with the fob and headed toward the lobby, where a keypad was embedded in the wall under a small outdoor overhang.
He didn’t even have to look up his brother on the tenant listing.
Rex was in 411.
He punched in the number and waited for it to ring.
“Yeah?” Rex answered. Diesel woofed in the background.
“It’s me.”
The surprise in Rex’s tone was unmistakable. “Come on up.”
The front door clicked open, and Chase heaved on the handle.
He took the stairs, because given the choice between a small box and a few flights of stairs, he’d take the few flights of stairs any day. Hell, he’d climb fifty flights before he stepped foot into an elevator the size of a shoebox.
He reached his brother’s door and knew it would already be unlocked.
He knocked out of courtesy and opened it.
Rex was standing in his living room with two open beer bottles on his coffee table. He tilted his head at one to indicate it was for Chase.
Chase nodded and murmured a thanks just as Diesel bounded forward and shoved in face into Chase’s crotch. A couple of sniffs seemed to satisfy the pup and he loped back over to his bed beneath the wall-mounted television.
By the looks of things, Rex was sorting through his laundry. He had two piles on the couch and a hamper between them. He’d pick up a shirt, give it a sniff and then toss it into one pile or the other.
“So?” Chase’s other bald brother asked.
“So why’d you go after Stacey?” Chase took a seat in the leather recliner positioned in front of Rex’s enormous flat-screen television.
Rex’s lip lifted at one side, and he bent down and picked up his beer from the coffee table, taking a long pull from it. “You weren’t.”
Chase closed his eyes and sipped his beer. “What makes you think that?”
Rex set his beer back down and went back to sorting his laundry. “Didn’t see you making a move. Brock sent me to check on her, said you ‘needed space.’ Figured that meant you weren’t interested.” He tossed a pair of black jeans into a pile.
“We’d had sex the night before you went over to her place, took your shirt off and hugged her like you wished she was naked, too, and on her back.” Chase fixed his brother with a steely gaze.
Rex lifted a shoulder. “Didn’t know.” He tossed a sock into the same pile as the black jeans. “Is that why you haven’t returned one of my damn calls or messages? You’ve been pissed that I tried to move in on Stacey? Even though she turned me down immediately and said she only sees me as a friend? A low blow, I might add. Haven’t been tossed into the friend-zone before. Not a fan.”
Rex was roughly the same size as Chase. They were the closest in age, and although Rex and Heath shared similar coloring and the dark blue eyes, Chase and Rex were often mistaken for twins. Even growing up, people thought they were twins. Just shy of two years apart, they’d always been close growing up—all the brothers were.
So to not have Rex in Chase’s life, even digitally, these last several months had been more painful than Chase was prepared to admit.
“You with Stacey now?” Rex asked, scooping up the pile with the black jeans and heaving it into his white laundry hamper.
Chase nodded slowly, staring straight ahead at the television. There was no sound, but a Canucks-Flames game was playing on the screen. “We’re sorting through some shit. Taking it slow.”
Well, they weren’t taking it slow when it came to how much, how often and how hard he’d pounded her into the mattress over the last week.
They also weren’t taking the family thing slow either. At least not in Connor’s eyes. The poor kid had actually asked Chase that night if Chase was his new dad because his other dad was dead.
Knife. To. The. Gut.
But they were taking everything else slow. Whatever else there was left.
She’d pushed a little more for him to tell her his secrets, but he’d quickly changed the subject. He just couldn’t see any way to tell her that wouldn’t result in her going all buggy-eyed and questioning whether he was safe to leave alone with her children.
He was. At least awake.
Asleep was another story.
Not that he would hurt either of them, but the idea of Connor getting out of bed and seeing Chase in the middle of one of his nightmares was a nightmare in and of itself for Chase.
A knock at the door had them both turning around.
Diesel was back up from his bed with another woof.
“Hey, hey!”
The floppy-haired, blond puppy dog in the form of Heath came into the apartment carrying a six-pack of beer bottles, Brock in his wake.
Both Brock’s and Heath’s eyes widened when they saw Chase sitting in the recliner.
Diesel did his customary sniff of them both, got himself some head pats and ear scratches, then returned to his bed.
“Things good here,” Brock asked warily, “or have you both just kicked the shit out of each other and are taking an intermission?”
“Neither have split lips or black eyes,” Heath said, wandering over to Rex’s fridge and stowing the beer. “I’d say they’re mending fences.”
Chase cleared his throat. “That’s why I came.”
Brock took a seat where the laundry pile had been, while Heath seemed content sitting on the floor beneath the television. He tipped a beer up to his lips.
Rex pinned his gaze on Chase. “Look, I’m sorry I tried to move in on Stacey. She’s hot, sassy and sweet. Can you blame me?”
Chase grunted and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah.”
Rex rolled his eyes. “Fine. But she turned me down, said she was in love with you. Shocked the shit out of me because I saw no more than high school puppy-dog eyes exchanged between the two of you.”
“People move at different paces, bro,” Heath said gently. “Some play the long game. Others”—he pointed at Rex and then himself—“go all in right away.”
Rex’s expression said he understood and agreed. He turned back to Chase. “I just didn’t think you’d take it so fucking hard and ghost me for half a fucking year.”
Chase’s thumbnail picked at the label on his beer, and he stared at it for a moment, the paper lifting up and curling on one side. “Mumps and infection in Peru left me sterile.”
The room went dead quiet.
Not that it was loud to begin with, but now you could probably hear a fucking pin drop.
He took his time lifting his gaze to his brothers.
All of them looked crestfallen. Like it was they who had been given the news they were shooting dust.
“How do you know?” Heath asked.
“Mom shanghaied me into getting tested about nine months ago. She had a suspicion, her being who she is and all.”
“Nosy, meddling, obsessed with us,” Heath said with a grin.
They all loved their mother more than anything in the world. Would kill and die for her. But she did have a penchant for meddling in her sons’ lives and getting them to do things they wouldn’t necessarily do without her prodding them like cattle.
“When did you find out?” Rex asked. He’d taken a seat on the other end of the couch from Brock, the laundry he’d deemed “clean” back in his duffle bag.
“Just before I took the gig watching Stacey. Fucked with my head big time. Still does.” He took a long swig of his beer, hating the pity that stared back at him by three people he loved most in the world.
“Stacey know?” Brock asked.
Chase shook his head.
“She know anything about Peru?” Heath asked.
Chase shook his head again.
“You gonna tell her?” Rex asked.
That was the fifty-million-dollar question, wasn’t it?
