Beautifully Wounded (The Beaumont Brothers) (16 page)

Lena

I really wasn’t surprised when Jackson said that
Brodie wouldn’t be joining us for dinner. He had a date almost every night when he wasn’t working the bar. “Smells good,” he’d said when he strolled into the kitchen right before leaving. He stuck his finger in the sauce and put it to his lips. “It is good. Now I’m almost sorry I have other plans.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say.
I’d felt uneasy around Brodie since walking into that conversation he’d had with Jackson before I moved upstairs.

“Lena,” he paused
, waiting for me to look at him. “I’m sorry about the things I said last week.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’m not a mean guy … normally.

“Normally?”

“I mean, I just worry about my brother.”

“Well you need
n’t worry. There’s nothing going on between us.”

He frowned. “That’s debatable, but not the point. I like you
, and just want you to know that what I said the other day, well, it was nothing personal.”

“I
t felt personal.” God, where’d Jackson go? I did not want to have this conversation with Brodie right now. Or anytime. Ever.

“I’m sorry. I guess what I’m trying to say is,
Jackson tends to … well, obsess about helping people. I just don’t want him to get hurt you know.”

We all knew the possibilities of Troy finding me and causing a world of trouble for not only me
, but them, as well.

“
Well, don’t worry. I won’t let that happen. I haven’t told Jackson yet, but I’ll be leaving at the end of next month after I’ve made enough money to pay you both back for your hospitality, and also make enough to get me back on the road.”

He took a step back, his eyes wide with surprise. “Oh.”

“Let’s keep that to ourselves though if you don’t mind. Otherwise, you and I both know that Jack will spend the entire month trying to coax me to stay.”

“Right. I guess you know him better than I thought you did, but you also know that’s going to hurt him.”

“I’ll try my best to keep things casual. I like him, but not that way,” I lied. “And I don’t want to hurt him.”

The chicken
Marsala turned out perfect. Not tasting too much like wine, with just enough butter to give it a creamy texture. I’d learned to make it perfect for Troy or he’d have rewarded me with a backhand across my cheek.

We ate in silence. The wine Jackson brought home went very well with it too. He must have liked it because I caught him scraping his fork over
every last drop of sauce on his plate.

“The parade was fantastic today. I’m so glad we didn’
t miss it,” I said, breaking the silence.

“That would have been a shame. I’m glad we caught it, too. Wow, Lena, that was fantastic. I am now, officially
, a chicken Marsala fan.”

I stood to clear the dishes from the table and Jackson joined in to help. I didn’t
quite know how to react to that at first since it was something Troy would have never dreamed of doing. I don’t know why I was so surprised about Jack’s willingness to help tonight. He’d done everything every other night, and it had been me offering to help him, which at first he wouldn’t let me do because of my injuries. I was healed now. The side of my back still hurt a bit where Troy kicked me, but nothing like it first did.

There were only a few things left to clean up
, and I was looking forward to going back upstairs and collapsing into bed. It had been my first day out, and I was exhausted.

“
After we finish cleaning up, I need to do some practicing. You can join me if you’d like. I’ll go build a fire, dancing flames seem to help me think,” Jackson said.

“Oh.” I was tired, but the prospect of listening to him play
, and me jamming along, was too much to pass up. “Okay. Go ahead out and I’ll finish up here.”

After wiping down the counter until it was spotless, another rule of Troy’s, I went into the living room to find Jackson in the big easy chair, guitar in hand, the fire roaring.
My fingers practically itched with the anticipation of strumming the chords on his spare guitar. And there it was, leaning against the side of the sofa. Jackson looked up and smiled. “Go on. Pick it up.”

A force much greater than I had the power to fight
—not that I would have—made me walk over to the sofa and pick up that guitar. I sat with it, and within a few minutes, we were deep into that song Jackson taught me the other night. He’d said he’d written it, but he’d yet to sing the lyrics aloud, and I knew he had some because I’d seen him with this notebook jotting down words as he’d played it. I wondered what it was about.

“When are you going to let me hear the words to this?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t being too forward or prying. After all, I knew from experience that song lyrics could be very personal sometimes
, and the way he always hid them from Brodie and me, I figured these must be pretty private.

“Oh. They aren’t quite ready, yet.”

“I can’t wait to hear them because I love the tune.” His lips curved up on one side, and I got the impression that he was proud of the ones he’d written so far. I didn’t press him about it any further. We played for about an hour, shooting ideas back and forth, and he really seemed to like everything I suggested. I’d been nursing the same glass of wine I’d had at dinner, and finally took the last sip. I didn’t drink much; I never wanted to after witnessing Troy make a big fool of himself so many times, or how nasty he became whenever we were alone. But right now, in this moment, I wanted another glass of wine, mainly because I didn’t want the night to end. I was having such a great time. I stood. “I’ll get some more wine, would you like another glass?”

“Sure.”

I headed to the kitchen, and realized he’d followed me in there. I reached out for the bottle, and his hand came over mine. “Allow me.” He smiled, and I pulled my hand away. He stood close and poured the wine. He held my glass up for me to take, but when I reached for it, he took my hand into his free one and placed the glass back on the counter. He stood facing me, and our gazes locked.

“The lyrics are about you,
Lena,” he confessed, and I watched his mouth as the tip of his tongue moistened his lips before he leaned his head down. Then those beautiful lips were on mine, soft, tender at first, then his tongue glided over my lips, breaking the seal. My pulse throbbed and quickened as his tongue swirled around mine. Taking and controlling, and … and I wanted this, needed his touch. I went limp in his embrace, and the heat rose under my skin, my body vibrated against his strong powerful one. Was this really happening? I reached up and ran my fingers through his thick hair while his hand slipped under my shirt, his fingers grazing my side below my rib cage. I forced Troy’s wicked face from my mind, but it was no use. Would I always have his hateful glare in my thoughts every time I tried to be with another man? Maybe it was better for Jackson’s sake that I did. Brodie’s words rang loud and clear in my head, and I once again shoved my hand against Jackson’s chest putting several inches between us.

Jackson

Lena slowly sh
ook her head, a tear escaping from one of her eyes, and I stepped toward her, brushing it away with my thumb. My fingers held her cheek as her gaze fell to the floor. “Jackson, I …”

I pulled her close against me and tilted her chin up, giving me access to her lips.
“I’m sorry, Lena,” I said. “I’m so very sorry he hurt you. I’m not him. I won’t hurt you I promise. I will never hurt you.”

Her lips parted as I said
all those words, our mouths mere centimeters apart, and she sighed into me, surrendering to me as if those words held some magic potion in them. I held her close until there was no space between us, as though I couldn’t get close enough. She opened her mouth and allowed me in. The tip of my tongue brushed softly against hers, and I let her reach out for mine. I didn’t want to hurt her or take what she didn’t want to give. I wanted to be careful with her, more careful than I’d ever been with a woman in my entire life. I’d never cared or thought about what I took before. A kiss had always been just a kiss, never meaning much. This time, I cared because Lena deserved it. She deserved to be kissed the way a woman should be kissed, with tenderness and respect, but I couldn’t keep the heat out.

We continued the kiss
. I didn’t want to stop, ever, but I knew if we didn’t we’d soon be doing more than just kissing. Well, at least that’s what I would have wanted. Lena, on the other hand, wasn’t ready. I knew this. After what seemed like too little time as far as I was concerned, she slowly pulled away.

We
just stood there in the kitchen. I waited for her to say something, but instead of talking about what just happened, she walked out of the kitchen, grabbed her keys, and left, slowly shutting the door. I listened to the quickness of her steps as she ran up the stairs to the cottage.

I didn’t know what to do.
She’d been through so much with that monster jerk she’d married. She’d been wronged beyond comprehension in the worse possible way, and she needed time, healing time before I thought she’d be ready for me. She needed time, space. I knew that, and I’d give it to her, but damn it, it was painful to do.

Lena

I stood with my back against the door and sank down to the floor. My God, what just happened? I couldn’t believe I let Jackson kiss me. Just earlier in the evening I’d made a promise to Brodie, and myself, that I wouldn’t get involved with Jackson that way.

I
skimmed my finger over my lips, remembering his touch, the texture, the taste. Jackson’s lips had been so soft; he’d been so tender and loving. I could tell he was holding back the second time because of the way he let me take control. The first kiss had been more urgent, but the second, the second kiss was tender and caring. I’d never been kissed like that before. I licked my lips and thought about what to do.

Oh God, I wanted him so much.

I got up, yanked off my clothes and got into the sweat pants and T-shirt that belonged to Jackson so I could have him close to me. I reached over and flipped on the iPod he’d lent me and climbed under the covers, bringing them up under my chin; a poor substitute for Jackson’s warm body. Music always soothed my spirit, and it was comforting to sleep by, particularly the Christina Perri album he’d downloaded to it. As the song, “Arms” played softly, I wrapped my own around my shoulders and thought about Jackson’s strong biceps, pretending he was right there beside me, rocking me to sleep.

But I couldn’
t sleep. How could I sleep thinking about that kiss and the song he said was about me. I couldn’t believe he thought about me that much to write a song. I laid there for about fifteen minutes more, and decided to get up and make some tea.

Jackson

Five
minutes after Lena ran upstairs, Brodie came home. I was glad he missed the show.

“Hey,” I said
, and he grunted as he walked to the fridge. Something was off. “What’s going on?”

He turned toward me, holding a bag of peas to his face.

“What the hell happened to you?” I asked.

“Some joker thought he’d use my face for a punching bag, that’s what happened. Parades seem to bring the worst
, as well as the best, out of people, and some of them can’t hold their liquor, particularly when their wife is cheating on them.”

“You were with a married woman?”

“She was here for the parade from Fall River Valley, and I didn’t know she was married. She lied about that.”

“
Ya think?”

He gave me a sour look. “Don’t judge.”

I laughed. “I won’t judge you if you don’t judge me, little brother.”

He gave me a side-ways glare. “What happened now?”

“I kissed Lena tonight,” I blurted it out, too excited about it not to.

“She’s still married.”

“Legally separated as of three days ago, and what about not judging?”

“Okay. Well, it was bound to happen
, I guess.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“You said not to judge.”

“I know, but I still want your opinion.”

“No, you don’t. You only want it if it’s something you want to hear.”

He had a point, so I let it go. I knew how he felt about it, and I didn’t want to hear it, but I’d hoped that because of his messed up evening, he’
d try to see things a little differently. Brodie had a bizarre way of dealing with things. I knew this by the way he used women. In his mind, he wasn’t doing anything wrong, just having fun. But I knew what tormented my little brother.

I couldn’t stand not knowing how
Lena was feeling about the kiss, and I couldn’t stand not knowing whether or not she hated me now. So I drove into town and picked up some sticky buns from Traci’s Bakery. Luckily, I caught Traci just as she was locking up for the night.

I knocked on
Lena’s door, and she opened it a crack.

“Hi,” I held up the pink box. “
We never had dessert.” I gave her the most charming smile I had. “And these are the best cinnamon buns in the entire county, something everyone should try at least once. And it’s my way of saying ‘thank you’ for dinner.” That was all true, but it was also my excuse to see her.

I’m sure she saw through my lame excuse after I’d said it by the way she smiled and slowly opened the door wider for me to enter. She turned toward the kitchen. “
I just finished boiling some water for tea. I’ll get us a cup.”

I set the box of past
ries on the small coffee table and watched her in the kitchen. She’d changed into the sweatpants I’d given her. I wondered if she slept in them, and had to pull myself from the vision of her under the sheets, without the pants. We sat at the table, drank the tea and ate the sticky buns, avoiding any and all discussion about the kiss, but I knew we were both thinking about it.

After a short while,
“Distance” by Christina Perri and Jason Marz played softly in the background from the iPod station I’d lent her. The songs on it were my collection, and I knew them well. Such an appropriate song for our situation. It was almost as if the iPod knew I was coming up, and wanted to give me a message. The unspoken tension between us was deafening, and when the song changed to another on the same album, I couldn’t help myself as Christina Perri’s voice gave me all the instructions I needed and I put my arms around Lena and held her close as we swayed to the words of “Arms.”

When
the song ended, I led her over to the small bed/sofa. Without saying anything, she sat down, and I sat next to her. She rested her head on my shoulder and I draped my arm around her.

“Will you tell me the words?”

“The words?”

“The lyrics. To the song
you’re writing.”

“Ah …” Was I ready to reveal them? I shuffled my body so that she’d be more comfortable. “My guitar is all the way downstairs.”

She sighed heavily. “Can’t you just say the words?”

“I guess,” I said
, and picked up her hand, rubbing my thumb over her fingers as I spoke.

Fleeing demons from the past

Only to find she can’t escape

Her wounds are deep, scars are masked

By her pain as she moves too late

Fleeing demons from the past

She longs for days without the pain

H
ealing wings for hope at last

When
ev’ry turn, it seems the same

All her fears can fall away

Now that she’s right
here with me

I felt the wetness of her tears on my shirt.

“Come on, baby, you’re exhausted.” I helped her stretch out onto the bed. I knew she had to be tired after the busy day
; it being her first day out. I pulled the cover over her and slid in next to her, holding on to her. At first, I thought she might object, but when she scooted her body up against mine, fitting hers into every curve of mine as if we were molded together, I realized that I shouldn’t have worried. She didn’t need to comment on the lyrics, I wasn’t looking for anything, I only hoped she understood them. When she began to sob, my heart broke, and I knew she had. She cried for a while, and I held her close. We stayed like that for the rest of the night, her sleeping in my arms.