Dangerously Broken (24 page)

“Ah, Jesus.”

She was so wet and tight and clenching his cock already. Pleasure went through him in a rush that made him dizzy. Keeping one hand under her, he stroked her body with the other, finding her skin in between the patches of wax hardening on her stomach and ribs. He began to move inside her, and raised his hand to her face, which was torn with pleasure. Touching her lips he ordered, “Suck,” and slipped two fingers into her mouth.

Wrapping her lips around his fingers, her tongue slid over the tips, in between them. She worked them as she would his cock, and he had to force himself to calm, to not explode inside her. He began to fuck her in rhythm with her warm, sucking mouth, losing himself in the cadence, in her body, in her utter submission to him.

Summer Grace
.

“You are mine, my sugar girl. My girl. My heart,” he muttered, gasping in between the words that didn’t do enough to convey what he felt.

She moaned around his fingers to tell him, “I’m going to come. Please, Jamie. I need to . . . Please.”

“Yes. Come for me. I’m gonna come, too. Now . . . Right now. Ah!”

He fell on top of her as his climax came down on him like a wave of heat and need that drowned him in sensation. He grasped the chains above her head, felt her fingers searching for his and twined their hands together as she shuddered, as she came with him.

“Baby, baby, baby . . .”

“Jamie. Love you, Jamie.”

He drew in a long breath, breathing it all in—the scents of desire and candle wax, their intermingled sweat and come. The scent of her hair and what was left of her sugary lip gloss. And he
had
to kiss her, to drink her in. To drink in this moment. He pressed his lips to hers, heard her small sigh, felt her body give in to his once more. And it was perfect.
They
were perfect.

S
UMMER
TURNED
ONTO
the main boulevard and headed toward home. The city was quiet on a Sunday night, and she considered stopping for groceries but decided she could do her shopping tomorrow night after work. She wanted to stay in her head, exactly in this lovely space where Jamie had put her. Her cell phone lit up, but she saw it was her mother’s number, and let the call go to voice mail. She wasn’t ready to tell her about Jamie, about their budding relationship. And she didn’t want anything to intrude on her mood.

Their weekend together had been incredible. Being with all their friends made her feel more like a couple somehow. And then their night at The Bastille . . . She was still flying from the wax play, and even more from the amazing connection she’d felt that night, and still felt. The weekend had stripped away the nagging voice full of doubts that always seemed to be lurking in the back of her mind, waiting to come out and take over. But Jamie’s love, his tenderness after they played and even during the play, wiped out everything else. If only they could be together all the time those voices might not ever come back.

A small shadow of self-doubt flitted through her mind, but she fought it down.

“No,” she murmured to herself. “Everything is fine. We’re together. He’s not going anywhere.”

She made another turn into her neighborhood and the lights and buzz of the city gave way to the quiet Gentilly district. She passed the rows of old homes, some of them still closed up or showing signs of damage from Katrina, many more restored to their former glory. She was glad to see her neighborhood coming back to life, blossoming in the wake of the terrible storm. She felt somewhat the same inside.

Jamie was making her blossom in a way she’d never been sure was possible. The idea made her smile to herself as she pulled into her narrow driveway. Getting out of the car, she grabbed her purse and her overnight bag. She went up the stairs and unlocked the front door, eager to get inside, to get things ready for work in the morning so she could climb into bed, close her eyes and remember every detail from the weekend.

She shut the door behind her, pulled her cell phone from her purse and, dropping her bags on the floor, she texted Jamie.

I’m home safe and sound!

Good girl. Glad you made it home. Get some good rest, baby. Love you so much. Call me if you need me.

Love you, Jamie.

Her body warmed all over. Even in text she could
feel
him.

With a smile on her face she walked through the house, turning on lights as she went, heading to the kitchen to make some tea. She flipped on the lights—and stopped.

No!

Madame lay on the kitchen floor, her fluffy white side sunken in, her legs stiff, her blue eyes wide.

She felt as if she couldn’t breathe as she sank to the floor. Reaching out, she touched the cat, knowing she wouldn’t feel anything but death. When she finally managed to catch her breath, she smelled it in the room.

“No!” she wailed, her fingers clenching and unclenching in the still-soft fur. “No, Madame. Please don’t . . .”

She stumbled to her feet, ran into the living room and came back with a throw blanket, laid it carefully over the cat’s body as tears poured down her cheeks. Her mind was going blank. She couldn’t think of anything but the tearing ache of loss in her chest.

Closing her eyes, she held on to the counter for support, whispering, “Please no. No more death. No more, no more.”

Unwanted visions of Brandon flashed through her mind. She remembered her last day with him. The fight they’d had that she’d never told anyone about, not even Dennie. She’d tried to sneak into the house after a night out partying with her friends and found Brandon waiting for her at the kitchen table, looking tired and annoyed.

“Summer Grace, what do you think you’re doing creeping into the house at six o’clock in the morning?”

“You’re not my father, Brandon.”

“No, but I am your brother, and this is not okay. You’re not even seventeen years old yet! You can’t have everything your way, Summer Grace, just because that’s how you want it. What the hell were you doing all night?”

“Nothing that’s any of your Goddamn business!”

“Keep your voice down. Do you want to wake up Mom and Dad?”

“What’s wrong, Brandon? You don’t want the scolding father role taken away from you? Well, I’m not your kid. I’m not your responsibility. So get over yourself.”

She’d marched upstairs, leaving a fuming Brandon behind, knowing she’d disappointed him. Knowing he cared as much as their parents did, maybe more. Tears had stung her eyes—tears of guilt and wounded pride. What a fool she’d been. And so careless of her brother’s feelings. So careless . . .

Fuck.

Her eyes flew open. Had she forgotten to leave food for Madame? She ran to the back door, but there was plenty of food and water in the cat’s dishes. She turned to glance over at the blanket-covered body on her kitchen floor, but had to look away.

Pressing her fists against her eyes, she begged, “Please, Madame. Please, please don’t be dead.”

Hadn’t she said the very same words when Brandon died? Hadn’t she begged him to come back to her? For months. But he never had. Her parents hadn’t, either. Even Jamie had abandoned her. They all had. They’d left her alone and she hadn’t known how to handle the world—the entire big, fucking scary world at sixteen years old! She’d felt . . . orphaned. Lost. And she damn well wasn’t going through this again. First it was Brandon, now it was Madame, then it could be . . . What?

She couldn’t stand to think of it. Couldn’t stand to look at Madame’s body on the floor. She was dead and there was nothing she could do about it. Death was so damn final. But it was just as final when someone chose to turn away from you and broke your heart.

Brandon.

Her parents.

Jamie.

Madame.

Jamie!

“Oh no,” she moaned.

She was so, so cold. She wrapped her arms around her chilled body, but she couldn’t seem to get warm. And the tears were coming faster than she could wipe them away.

This was the universe warning her. She was not going to be allowed to keep anything. Anyone.

Jamie.

“You can’t have everything your way, Summer Grace . . .”

Brandon.

Somehow she managed to find her way to the front hall, to dig her phone out of her purse, to dial.

“Den? Something’s happened.” She had to stop as another sob caught in her throat, choking her. “I need you. Please come.”

“Oh, honey, what is it? No, never mind—I’ll be right there. You just hang on, you hear me? I’ll be right there.”

It wasn’t until she hung up that she realized she was on the floor, but there was nothing she could do about it. She was drowning in helplessness. Powerlessness. All she could do was wait in this house filled with death. God, it was all too familiar, the quiet of it.

The house was so quiet after the funeral, even though her mother and father and her grandparents were there. No one was saying anything. No one asked her if she was okay, if she needed anything. No one offered to read her to sleep, or to make her hot chocolate, and she knew at that moment that part of her life was gone forever, and she was on her own. On her own except for Dennie, and thank God for her.

“She’s coming. She’s coming,” she whispered to herself, wiping uselessly at her wet cheeks. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and bowing her head as if she could hide from the world. “Please hurry . . . please.”

*   *   *

M
ONDAY MORNING
J
AMIE
was just opening up the shop when his phone rang. He juggled his coffee in one hand, tossed his leather jacket over the back of the office chair with the other before pulling his cell from the pocket of his jeans.

“Hello?”

“Jamie?”

“Dennie? What’s up?” His stomach dropped. Why did he know already something terrible had happened?

Death magnet.

Fuck!

“Is it . . . is it Summer Grace? Is she okay? What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“She’s okay. I mean, she’s not okay or I wouldn’t be calling. She hasn’t been in an accident or anything. She’s not sick. But listen, Jamie, she’s not in great shape, my poor girl, and she asked me not to call you, but I thought . . . I thought I should. I thought you should know.”

“Know what? What’s going on?”

He heard Dennie blow out a breath on the other end. “She found Madame dead last night—her cat. And she just . . .” She paused, lowered her voice. “. . . she freaked out. I mean total meltdown. She’s been at my house since last night crying like the world has ended, and I can’t get her to stop. She hasn’t slept. Well, neither have I. I won’t leave her like this. My grandmother has been helping me sit with her, but we don’t know what else to do.”

Jamie ran a hand over his hair. “Wait. Her
cat
died? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I know it doesn’t make much sense on the surface . . .”

“I don’t know. It does and it doesn’t. What is she doing now?”

“Still crying. I really think you should come.”

“I do, too. I’ll be right there. Let me call Duff and see how soon he can get here to cover me.”

“Thanks, Jamie.”

Ten excruciating minutes later he was in the truck on his way to Dennie’s house out in Lakeview. He cursed at the morning commute traffic, his fingers tight on the wheel. On the inside he felt like he could easily burst open—like some torrent of anger and grief would come pouring out. He swallowed it down like bile.

Finally he pulled up in front of Dennie and Annalee’s house. He cut the engine and jumped out, stalked up to the door, knocked and waited. Shifting from one foot to the other, he tried not to let this feel like the end of something.

Dennie came and opened the door, and he pulled the screen door wide and stepped into the dim hallway.

“She’s in the back bedroom,” Dennie said, keeping her voice down. “Come on.”

He followed her through the quiet house and through a doorway at the end of the hall. It was dark in the room, with just a small glow of sunshine coming through the drawn curtains, but he could vaguely make out a shape under the pile of quilts in the old high bed.

“Summer Grace?”

“No. No, no, no.” Her voice was rusty, as if it hadn’t been used in a long while. Or as if she’d been crying all night.

His chest went tight.

He moved closer, sat on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” he said gently. “You okay, baby?”

There were several long, quiet moments, then a hard, wrenching sob.

“Ah, it’ll be okay,” he soothed. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”

Suddenly she sat up, her hair disheveled, and even in the faint light he could see how red and swollen her eyes were. “No, it will not be okay. It has never been okay. Not
ever
! I’ve been stuffing it down for too damn long, but that’s the reality of it. And God, Den, I told you not to call him. How could you?”

The last came out on a small sob, and his heart broke a little to see her like this. To have some idea of what she was feeling. And to know that some of it, at least, was his fault.

He reached out to stroke her wild hair from her cheek, but she waved his hand away. “Don’t. I can’t stand it—the sympathy. Don’t you think I know how fucked up this is? How fucked up
I
am?” She sniffed, wiped her nose on her sleeve. Muttered, “I didn’t even like that cat very much.”

“Come on, sweetheart. No one liked that cat much. And we both know this is about more than just the cat.”

“Of course it fucking is!” Her eyes were blazing. “It always has been. I thought I’d learned the lesson well: everyone leaves, one way or another.
Everyone
. Even you.”

“Summer Grace, I’m right here.”

She closed her eyes, bit her lip. “For now. But I’ve just had another lesson in impermanence. I don’t think I can stand one more. And fuck it all, I don’t want you to see me like this. Please go.”

“I can’t leave you like this.”

Her eyes flew open. “Just go!” she yelled, then collapsed into tears.

Dennie rushed to her and wrapped her in her arms. Looking up at Jamie, Dennie whispered. “Go, Jamie.”

He got up, feeling shell-shocked. He took a step back, watching Summer Grace,
his
Summer Grace, sob while Dennie held her. And felt as if the world had been pulled out from under his feet.

He turned and left the room, left the house, got into his truck and drove off.

*   *   *

H
E’D BEEN BACK
at the shop for most of the day. Duff had looked at him questioningly when he arrived, but instead of asking questions his cousin had just given him a fond slap on the back and gone next door to keep an eye on the crew doing the build-out.

Since then Jamie had spent a lot of time staring at the computer screen, fielded a few phone calls, but none of it had stuck in his brain. It felt as if his brain
were
stuck, worrying, wondering if Summer Grace was okay. If there was something more he could do. If he could only get her to
talk
to him.

He knew that Madame’s sudden death was bringing her old loss issues up and shoving them right in her face—that much was obvious. But why was it taking such a toll on her? Had she never really dealt with losing her brother? She’d seemed okay all these years. Stronger than most. But maybe she’d simply held it all inside, covering it up with the tough-girl act.

That had to be it. Which meant that, given time, she’d get through this. But did he give her the space she’d asked for, or did he step in and
make
her let him help?

He got to his feet, muttered, “God fucking damn it, I’ve never backed down from a challenge before.”

“What’s that, cousin?” Duff asked, coming through the office door.

“Duff, there are times in life when you just have to go after what you want.”