Colorado 02 Sweet Dreams (18 page)

“Of all of us,” I was still whispering.

“What?”

“He’s the strong one of all of us,” I explained and the tears started to fall in such great waves I didn’t know where one stopped and the next began. “We… we… girls. His girls. We fall apart,” I finished, a loud sob tore up my throat and it sounded only slightly less painful than it felt.

Then I was in Tate’s arms.

* * * * *

“Laurie, baby, wake up,” I heard Tate call and my eyes opened.

We were on a plane and I was snuggled into him, head on his chest, my arm wrapped around his stomach.

I tilted my head back and looked up at him.

“We’re landing, we need to put the seatbacks up,” he told me quietly.

“Right,” I whispered and pulled away, pulled my hair out of my face and sat up.

Tate was on that plane with me for reasons known only to Tate. All I knew was, he managed to get me into the bathroom at the hotel and then he disappeared. By the time I was out of the shower, Betty was in my room, my clean clothes from the laundry folded on my bed. She coaxed me through my makeup and blow drying my hair drill and I dressed in an outfit she chose for me. She packed for me while I was doing this, grabbing my makeup and hair brush when I was done.

Then there came a knock on the door and, like I was a celebrity, Betty shoved my sunglasses on my nose and I was whisked from my room by Ned who guided me into a big, black Ford Explorer that had Tate at the wheel.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked Tate after Ned tossed my bag in the backseat.

“I’m your ride,” he replied and then we were off and I barely got a chance to wave at Ned and Betty who were both standing outside my room.

“Whose SUV is this?” I asked once we were out of Carnal.

“Mine,” he answered.

I looked at him. “You drive a Harley.”

“Not big on puttin’ bad guys on the back of my bike when I hunt them down, Ace. Fucks with my street cred.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, turned to face the road, black thoughts assailed my brain and I fell silent.

 I found out after the silent ride but somewhat hair raising drive to Denver International Airport (I would understand much later that this was because my plane was leaving and Tate didn’t have a lot of time to get me to it) he wasn’t just my ride. This was because he didn’t drop me off. He parked in short term parking, guided me to the ticket counter, we checked my bag and got two tickets (though I didn’t know that) and we both got in line to go through security and throughout almost all this Tate had two bags, mine in one hand (my hand mostly held in his other), an overnight bag slung over his shoulder but I was too out of it to notice it was his.

“You can’t go through if you don’t have a ticket,” I informed him.

“I’ve got a ticket,” he replied, looking over my head and down the line.

“To where?” I asked stupidly and his head tipped to look down at me.

“Indianapolis,” he answered.

I felt my brows shoot into my hairline. “You’re coming with me?”

“Gettin’ you there, comin’ home tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Ace, you’re a fuckin’ mess. I’m gettin’ you to your family and I fly home tomorrow.”

“That’s insane,” I whispered.

“It’s what I’m doin’,” he returned.

“But –”

“Shut up, Ace.”

I stared at him.

Then I said, “Okay.”

Then I went through security with Tate and got on a plane with Tate.

Now I was landing in Indianapolis with Tate.

We landed. We taxied. We were let loose from our seatbelts.

Tate got up and was so big, still had his beard, his hair had grown longer and was not only curling around his ears but also his neck, he was wearing a skintight black tee, very faded jeans, motorcycle boots and had a very cool tattoo slithering down his bicep I’d never noticed before because he was always in long-sleeved shirts, and therefore he looked
exactly
like what you’d expect a bounty hunter to look like (but even cooler, scarier and more handsome) so the other passengers let him have his space as he pulled his black, leather overnight bag out of the overhead compartment. Then he grabbed my hand, pulled me out of the seats and pushed me in front of him with his hand in the small of my back.

We walked through the airport and I started running when I saw my sister’s partner Mack’s tall, dark blond head peering over the crowd at the end of the terminal.

I hit him straight on so hard he went back on a foot.

“Laurie, honey,” he whispered as his arms went around me.

I just started crying again.

He let me cry and had a man-style nominally syllabic conversation with Tate while he held me tight.

“You Jackson?”

“Yeah. Tate.”

“Mack.”

“News?”

Silence.

“Right.”

Mack pushed me to his side, slid his arm around my shoulders and he guided me to the escalator that would take us down to baggage claim.

“Got another situation,” Mack said when we’d exited the escalator and when he said it his arm gave me a squeeze.

“Yeah?” Tate asked and my head tilted back to look at Mack.

“What?” I whispered.

“Your Dad’s out of surgery, he’s in ICU. Only your Mom’s been able to see him. They’re keepin’ a close eye and they want him to rest,” Mack told me.

“Okay,” I replied.

Mack was silent and we stopped by our baggage claim.

Then he pulled in a breath. “Brad’s at the hospital.”

I tore out of his arm and took a step back, shouting, “
What?
”

“Laurie…” Mack said.

“Ace…” Tate said.

I looked at Tate and informed him, “That’s my
ex.
”

He got close to me and took my hand. “Okay, baby.”

“My ex as in my
ex-husband
who spent five years of our marriage
fucking
my best friend,” I shouted, oblivious of the other travelers turning to stare.

“Yeah, babe, I know,” Tate had pulled my hand up and placed it palm down on his chest with his hand over it.

“He’s at the
hospital
,” I screeched, “where my father is in
I…C…U!
”

Tate’s head bent so his face was close to mine. “Calm down, Laurie.”

“No!” I shouted in his face. “What a
jerk!
”

“Do you want me to beat the shit outta him when we get there?” Tate asked, sounding serious and I blinked at him.

“What?”

“I will,” Tate stated.

“You… you’ll… beat the shit out of him?”

“Say the word, babe.”

“Would… wouldn’t you get arrested for something like that?” I asked.

“Probably,” he answered.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t,” I decided.

“Your call,” he muttered and turned to the baggage claim, moving my hand so it became my arm wrapped around his waist and sliding his arm along my shoulders.

“You’ll yell you see the case,” Mack instructed but he sounded like he found something funny.

“Yep,” Tate said, his eyes on the now moving carousel.

“You’re good, by the way,” Mack went on.

“What?” Tate asked.

“Took me five years with Carrie to figure out how to talk her down from a drama. Laurie’s been in your town for what? A month? Shit, man, you’re the master.”

Tate chuckled.

This conversation didn’t penetrate me. I was post-shouting at the Indianapolis Airport, pre-visit to the hospital where my father who I adored but had left worrying about me for six months (or longer) was in ICU and my ex-husband was hanging out for reasons that could only mean he’d gone insane.

Therefore, I collapsed into Tate’s side, resting my head on his shoulder.

His arm around my shoulders got tighter.

It wouldn’t be until much,
much
later that I would remember that I hadn’t called Wood.

* * * * *

Apparently the tear reservoir had run dry by the time we made it to St. Vincent’s Hospital because when I hit the waiting room and Mom and Caroline fell on me, all I could do was hold onto both of them in our mini-huddle.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Mom whispered in my ear, “missed you so much, hon.”

I just held her tighter.

After a long time, we disengaged and they stepped back. Carrie looked toward Tate first. Then her mouth dropped right open.

Then she muttered, “Holy cow.”

Mom heard Carrie and she stopped smiling sadly at me, looked up at Tate and then she blinked and her head reared back.

“Um… Mom, Carrie, this is Tate Jackson his my bo –”

“Boyfriend,” Tate stated firmly, his deep, rough voice filling the waiting room and I could swear Carrie looked like she was going to faint and I could swear this because her upper body started teetering in a random pattern all the while Mom blinked again, repeatedly.

I looked up at Tate in shock but he was looking over my sister’s head.

“Can I help you?” he asked and I turned to see who he was looking at.

Brad was standing there, looking pale, somewhat haggard even though he also looked like Brad but after all these months, all that had gone on before, more than a month in Carnal with the likes of Tate and Wood, he didn’t seem like my glorious, beautiful Brad anymore.

He had light brown hair he used product on to sweep back from his face and, like always, even in a hospital waiting room, his hair looked perfect. He didn’t wash it and let it fall as it lay. He
styled
it and sometimes he took longer fiddling with his hair than I did blow drying mine and this was saying something because I had a lot of hair. He was only three inches taller than me so he’d never liked me to wear very high heels. He had blue eyes that I’d used to think were piercing. Now they just seemed blue. And he had an absolutely great body but he honed this by going to the gym five times a week, never missing a scheduled visit. He even went in when he was sick, such was his aversion to the thought of losing his carefully crafted physique.

His eyes were on me.

“Ree?” he asked, staring at me like he’d never seen me before.

“What are you doing here, Brad?” I asked back.

When he heard my voice he breathed, “
Ree.
”

“We couldn’t get him to go away,” Carrie informed me.

Brad jerked as if pulling himself together and then his eyes moved to Tate briefly before they came back to me.

“This is my family,” he explained.

“Sorry?” I whispered, feeling my body get tight.

“He’s been sayin’ that a lot,” Mack muttered to Tate.

“I’m guessin’ you’re Brad,” Tate said to Brad.

“Yes, Ree’s husband,” Brad said to Tate.

Tate looked down at me. “Thought you signed papers?” I nodded to him and he looked to Brad. “I think in the eyes of the law that makes you not her husband anymore.”

I looked at Mom and Carrie. “Tate would probably know; he used to be a cop.”

“What’s he now, hon?” Mom asked.

“A bounty hunter,” I answered.

Caroline’s eyes shot to Tate and she repeated, “Holy cow.”

Brad got even paler.

Mack chuckled.

Mom’s round eyes hit Tate and she whispered, “Oh my.”

Tate ignored all of us and told Brad, “So I’m thinkin’ Ace’s question is still pertinent.”

“Ace?” Brad asked.

“Lauren,” Tate answered.

Brad’s eyes narrowed on me. “He calls you
Ace?
”

I threw my hands up. “What are you
doing
here, Brad?”

Brad started toward me but stopped abruptly. He stopped abruptly because Tate moved in between him and me and planted a hand in Brad’s chest.

“That’s about as close as I want you to her,” Tate said low.

Brad took a step back and glared at Tate. “I get that you’re a big guy but I’d like to talk to
my wife
.”

“Then you shouldn’t have thrown her away when she
was
your wife. Now she ain’t. Now she’s somethin’ to me and I don’t let men I don’t like get close to her and I gotta tell you, man, I do
not
like you.”

Brad’s eyes came to me and he snapped, “Ree!”

I moved forward two feet until I was standing behind and beside Tate and I leaned beyond him to Brad.

“Are you telling me that you flew all the way from Phoenix to cause this drama when my father is in ICU just because you feel like a schmuck because you totally screwed me over and you didn’t get to make yourself feel like a good guy and say good-bye when I left town?”

“No, I’m telling you when I heard about your Dad I knew you’d be here and I flew all the way from Phoenix so I could tell you I want you back!” Brad returned and everyone in the room got very still except Tate and me.

Tate didn’t get still, as such. Instead, he got the definition of still. His body completely turned to stone which was good because my bones turned to water and I had to grab onto Tate to remain standing.

“What?” I whispered.

Brad took a step forward, Tate moved a millimeter and Brad stopped but his eyes stayed pinned to me.

“I want you back, Ree,” he said softly. “I made a huge mistake.”

“Yeah, man, you did,” Tate cut in and Brad’s neck twisted so fast he probably gave himself a hitch when he looked up at Tate.

“Will you stay out of it?” he clipped.

“She’s holdin’ onto me, bud. I’d say I’m in it,” Tate returned.

“Ree,” Brad said when his eyes came to me.

And when they did, it hit me, like taking a bullet that ripped through me, changing my life, altering my perceptions in a way I knew there was no going back.

“Go away,” I whispered.

“Him or me?” Brad asked, jerking a thumb at Tate.

“Not Tate,
you
,” I was still whispering.

“Ree,” Brad repeated.

“Honest to God?” I asked quietly and Brad opened his mouth to speak but I kept talking. “Do you know how beautiful my life is now, Brad? Can you even understand what a beautiful life is? It isn’t about the perfect house and a keeping-up-with-the-Jones’s new car every two years and having the right landscaper and bragging at parties that you have a house cleaner. Not when all that stuff is
shit.
It’s
surface
. There’s nothing underneath.”