Dare You Forever (Brothers of Ink and Steel #2.5) (2 page)

Chapter Three

Sophie

When I get back to the lake, Charlie is crying while Josh holds her hand in a consoling way.

“Daddy yelled at me.” She sniffles.

“What?” I ask.

“I just turned around for a second to grab her towel because she said she was cold, and when I turned back she was nearly up to her neck in the lake,” Josh explains. “I couldn’t get to her fast enough and I panicked.” He pushes back her wet curls. “I’m sorry I yelled but you scared me too.”

I’m so frustrated! He’s a huge guy and when he gets angry and his muscles coil and his veins pop from his neck, he’s terrifying.

“I need to talk to you for a minute.”

“What?”

“I’ve been doing this her whole life …”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Sophie, I’ve heard it all before—let me take care of all the discipline, we have a system, she knows me better—when are you going to start trusting me?”

“I trust you!” I retort defensively.

“No. No you don’t, and you need to.” He takes my hands. “We love each other, and we both love her. I’m going to make mistakes—I’m a first time dad—but you have to back off and let me.”

I don’t think I can.
I stare at him.

“Don’t you want me to be Charlie’s dad?” he asks. “If you do, you have to stop getting in the way. I listen to your advice, now you have to trust me.”

“Trust is earned,” I whisper.

“Haven’t I earned your trust?”

I hate myself right now. I hate the imagined damage I can make up in my head and the fear that plays on repeat, telling me it’s only a matter of time before he blows up, before he takes us down with him. It’s all lies, I know it. I feel it! It’s all irrational—I know Josh.

I wait too long to answer him, and the pain and hurt in his eyes turns to anger.

He lowers his voice and leans in to me. “Jesus Christ, Sophie, we’re getting married in three days! And you’re not sure if you trust me?”

“I trust you …” I have to turn this conversation around.

“But?” he says, drawing me out.

“But—”

“I can’t believe there is a but!” Josh’s voice cracks incredulously. “I have to take a walk. I’m sorry I scared you, jellybean. I love you.” He kisses the top of Charlie’s head and walks away without even looking at me.

“Now Daddy’s angry at you,” Charlie says matter-of-factly in a small voice. “I trust Daddy.”

The dam breaks—I kneel in the grass next to Charlie and pull her up into my lap.

“I love you so much, baby.” I can’t stop the tears.

“Mommy … why are you crying?”

“Cause I’m scared, sweetheart. I’m scared.”

I bury my face in the crook of her neck and feed off the warmth she lends me.

***

We drive home in silence, except for Charlie, who sings the pop songs that are playing over her favorite radio station. Things between Josh and me don’t get any better after we get home either; in fact, we pretty much ignore each other into the evening. Later, I put Charlie to bed alone. Usually Josh is a part of that ritual. My heart hurts, knowing I’m the one who’s driving him away. Between my fear and imagination during my waking hours and the blood-chilling images I dream when I’m asleep, I’m acting like a basket case.

I’ve spent so much time with Josh’s family—they’re amazing, loving people—I know my Josh; I’ve seen him at his best and his worst, I’ve seen him under pressure, I’ve experienced him being absolutely furious with me, and I know we’re safe. So why doesn’t that truth stop the panic?

How do I stop the panic? Because I can literally feel it tearing us apart.

I remember Josh’s mom told me once about how she and Colt got through some tough times. She said you’ve got to talk about them. When you put the problem in the light, the shadows can’t stay. They’re swallowed up by the truth in that light. Once the other person can see them too, they lose their power over you.

God knows I need those dreams to lose their power over me. Somehow I’m going about this all wrong.

I pull on my cozy Ugg slippers and make my way downstairs to the kitchen. The only glow comes from the over-the-stove light. It’s quiet and calm, peaceful.

I know what I have to do.

Reaching inside the fridge I take out two glass bottles of low carb beer.

When I find Josh, he’s sitting hunched over on the front porch step with his head in his hands.

The summer air is hot and humid here in Minnesota. He is so incredibly gorgeous—inside and out. He isn’t wearing a shirt, so all of his inked muscles are on display.

“Truce?” I hold one of the bottles out in front of him.

He glances up at me suspiciously. And not in the joking way.

“Yeah, I’ve been off.”

He sighs deeply and his shoulders relax. “You’re scaring me, scrapper.”

“I get that.” I open my beer. “Letting go of the past isn’t the cinch I thought it’d be. It’s like there’s this part of me that’s excited and ecstatic and floating above the earth on cloud nine—it’s the side that totally believes everything is going to be amazing. That part of me knows the kind of man you are and loves you as much as the air I breathe.”

“And now for that but.” Josh takes a pull from his beer.

I nod deliberately. This is more than a talk or an apology, this is my—and maybe our— now or never. “Isn’t it sad that anyone could be so mistreated that when a good thing finally comes along they’re so mistrusting they shove and push it away?”

I let my eyes wander into the night sky. The constellation of Leo shimmers above our heads with Venus bright and steady just below. I sit next to him on the porch step and deliberately let our legs touch. He doesn’t recoil, so that’s positive.

I think about how far we’ve come as individuals and as a couple. For starters, this is
our
house in Minnesota, just outside the city, on thirty acres. My name is on the lease. After Josh proposed to me, we decided to move from his apartment and find a family home that would be all our own. That was a huge step! A massive exercise in trust and faith, and it’s turned out amazingly.

I look over at Josh, so forlorn when he should be excited as hell, and I know it’s every bit my fault.

“You have done everything right, Josh,” I tell him. “And I do trust you with my whole heart—with me and Charlie.”

“Sometimes you do … other times you don’t.”

I begin to open my mouth to defend myself, but he waves his hand.

“White flag, scrapper! I’m here for the long haul—take all the time you need—I’ve been to the therapy sessions with you. I hate the son-of-a-bitch for everything he did to you … I have a love-hate relationship in my mind with your mother. She treated you appallingly, but she still gave me you, which makes me profoundly grateful.” Josh looks at my hand resting on my leg, then reaches over and weaves his fingers through mine. “I wish there was something I could do to make you feel so absolutely secure you’d be able to shed a layer of this God-awful fear.”

Warm tears escape my eyes. I tilt my head back as if I could force them back in, so he doesn’t have to see me like this.

I’m so lucky to have you.

“We’ve already come through so much, baby. We’ll get through this too,” he promises. “We’ll grow old together and watch our grandchildren play.”

I sigh in relief—he’s not giving up on me.

Yet,
the unwanted voice inserts itself in my head.
But don’t worry, you’ll fuck it up, I’m sure.

That unwanted voice sounds a lot like a disembodied Jim.

Chapter Four

Josh

“I know about pain. I know about forgiveness. And I know the time it can take to heal a wound you can’t see. I’m more than familiar with the terror that carves out a crevice so deep inside of you and traps you so that you can’t see the light of day clearly. But your day is dawning, scrapper, and we have our whole lives ahead of us to make it right.”

She lays her head on my shoulder. “Thank you.” I hear the tears in her voice. “I love you.”

“I love you back, scrapper—with everything I am.” I assure her and hope she takes it to heart.

***

“What the fuck!? No strippers,
again
?!” My youngest brother Will is not happy with the bachelor party agreement. “You know, usually bachelor parties are thrown as a surprise and the groom doesn’t even get a choice,” he snarls, running his fingers through his hair in front of the mirrored wall.

“Jesus Christ, Will! Are you so hard up you need a stripper?” my brother Jake taunts, zipping his pants.

“No, asshole … it’s just that bachelor parties and strippers are a time-honored tradition. And I’m more than disgusted at our lack of keeping tradition,” Will quips.

We’re standing in a Dior tuxedo shop in the heart of St. Paul being fitted. I look around me—my blood brothers Caleb, Jake, Sam and Will and honorary blood brother, Nate—and my
other
blood brothers Liam, Ryder, Talon, Connor, Reese and Chase—and I realize how fucking lucky I am to have the best families in the world. It’s not very often when these two families cross paths, but when they do, it’s like the stars have aligned and the planets have converged on some major astrological scale.

“Fuck the groom!” Ryder growls. “I’m with Will, and I say we have our own ‘bachelor’ party and leave these pussy pads behind for a big boy night out. Who’s with me?”

Caleb, Jake, Sam and Nate shake their heads, albeit with smiles on their faces.

“Those days have come and gone, my friend.” Sam laughs as he ties his polished leather dress shoes.

Liam sends a quick fist into Ryder’s shoulder. “Ain’t none of our women going to be cool with that dick-move idea.”

“Hell, I’m in!” Reese struts out of the dressing room then stops to straighten his gold silk tie and admire himself in the mirror. “I look fucking good. Tuxes are like guaranteed get-laid-suits.”

“Yeah, and with the wedding’s star-studded guest list, you might just get lucky with Emma Stone,” Jake says, working at the silk tie around his own neck.

Reese straightens his back and his smile grows wider across his face. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Talon rolls his eyes. “I swear your brain is in your dick.”

“Well, yeah!” Reese makes no apologies. “Where else would it be?”

We all laugh. Yep, that’s Reese all right.

Connor weighs in. “I’d totally make a play for Jennifer Lawrence.”

“You wouldn’t fucking know what to
do
with Jennifer Lawrence,” Ryder quips, leaning back casually in one of the rich high-backed leather chairs that decorate the large room.

Chase lifts his hand. “I got it! Whoever’s in, we’ll meet tonight at House of Ink and Steel and then head over to Queen of Hearts later—nude strip teases, lap dances, buffet and VIP room—it’s perfect. And come Friday, we won’t care how lame the geriatric party that Liam has planned for Josh is.”

“You guys are fucking pricks,” Liam yells from behind the dressing area, laughing.

“Oh, don’t get your dangly bits in a knot, Liam.” Reese winks at Chase as he tries to goad Liam on.

We’re interrupted when Thomas, the owner of the shop, comes in with a box. “Mr. North, the gold cummerbunds were just delivered.”

The tuxes are rich black and accented with a gold vest, silk kerchief and cummerbund.

I look them over. “Perfect. Thank you.”

“How are you sleeping lately?” I hear Nate ask Jake as the other guys are figuring out tonight’s arrangements.

“Livie decided to breastfeed and co-sleep, so baby Lily has more of the bed than I do,” Jake answers good-naturedly. “And that means I think I had about forty-five minutes of sleep last night all together.”

“Same here, bro.” Nate laughs and steps back into his Levi’s without bothering to go into the dressing room. “First real night’s sleep I had in weeks was last night at the hotel.”

“You two are such pussy whipped old men!” Will jeers, shaking his head disgustedly and unsympathetically.

Nate gets Will in a headlock—as his pants fall back down around his knees—and rubs Will’s scalp with his knuckles, laughing. “Shut up, asshole.”

“So, what is the bachelor party plan anyway?” Sam wants to know as he wraps the cummerbund around his midsection.

“That’s a surprise,” Liam explains, coming back out from the dressing stall in his street clothes. “But, hey!” he shouts above everyone’s chatter. “We all need to meet at Josh’s tomorrow around four. Don’t be late.”

Once everyone agrees to the arranged time, I lift my hand to gain their attention. “All right, losers. I have a lunch date with Sophie and can’t be late,” I lie. “See you all tomorrow.”

***

It’s been a while since I was in a public library. I usually go straight for the bookstore, but parenting is about personality and philosophy; it’s not an entirely one-size-fits-all endeavor, and I want to take my time to see what different authors have to say.

“
How to Take the ‘Step’ out of ‘Step-father,’
Parenting your Blended Family
,
Becoming an Instant Parent.
” I whisper some of the titles before pulling one off the shelf.

I don’t think I’m bad parenting material, but I’ve definitely never read a parenting book, and even though I think my parents are the greatest out there, they don’t have actual experience with becoming a blended family, so what the hell do I really know?

I need to do everything I can to put Sophie at ease.

I
have
to prove to her I’m the best man for the job—both as her husband and as a dad for Charlie—so she can come to her own wedding free from fear and doubt!

Wedding.

I’m getting married in three days.

I feel my adrenaline rise, and my body begins to tremble slightly like it does right before a fight.

I promised her I’d take on her old demons—and I am—but they don’t fight fair. They’re more like ghosts; they have no tangible physical body to grapple with; they can slip through a room and wreck a perfectly amazing moment then escape by disappearing into a wall.

I fight in the octagon with my fists and hands and entire body. I battle fires with real, touchable tools and equipment like ladders, axes, water …

So, all of those things are defeated by material forces …

But they’re also fought on a psychological level as well. If someone is trapped in a fire, you have to calm them down before they can be helped.

If someone is trapped in a fire, you have to calm them down before they can be helped.

“Oh fuck, yeah!” I cheer too loudly and am immediately on the receiving end of several nasty stares. I don’t give a shit! I know exactly what I’m going to do!

***

“Hey, baby!” I find Sophie making a sandwich in the kitchen of our new farmhouse and sweep her excitedly into my arms.

“I’m happy to see you too.” She smiles suspiciously at my exuberance. “Tux fittings go well?”

“Ha! Will and Ryder would like my head on a platter for not wanting strippers at my bachelor party,” I tell her as I pick up a half her sandwich and take a huge bite out of it

“Oh no,” she says, laughing. “Do you want strippers?”

“No, baby, not at all. I have all the woman I want right here.” I grab the full cheek of her ass in my hand, pull her against me, look into her eyes and squeeze until she giggles. “They’ll get over it. Besides, they’re going to do their own thing tonight.”

“And what are you going to be doing?” she asks, biting into the last of the sandwich half between my fingers. I raise my eyebrows playfully and then feed it to her.

“I don’t know. Going over some reading material and last minute arrangements.”

“Should I be worried?” she mumbles with her free hand over her mouth so I can’t see the chewed food. She’s silly that way.

“No, you shouldn’t be. I want you to be the happiest woman in the world.”

“I am.” She swallows and puts on a brave face.

But I know she’s terrified.

“Good, because all the accessories for the tuxes are in now, and the boys and I are ready to show up for a wedding.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s getting married?” she flirts, batting her eyelashes.

“Me. To the most beautiful woman on the planet.” Teasingly, I bend in and lavish her neck with small, light kisses.

“Josh, I have a question.”

“Shoot.” I run my tongue behind her ear.

“When did you first realize you were falling in love with me?”

I stop, pull my head back and look into her eyes and say without hesitation, “The night you came to my room at the hotel, after you stood me up at the Hard Rock event.”

“Really?” She blushes and she’s fucking gorgeous.

“I saw you there, you know,” I finally confess to her.

“You what?” Her voice is full of shock and she pushes away fast, looking at me like I just confessed to murder or something.

I keep a strong grip on her arms to keep her from fleeing. “I looked back just as you were turning around.”

She stutters, “I … you … the blonde …”

“I know. I was dense,” I explain with a grin and a shrug. “It was so fast I wasn’t even one hundred percent sure it really was you. But when you never showed up … well, the party wasn’t any fun without you. And I couldn’t stop thinking about you …”

She lets out the breath she’s holding and smiles

“Yeah, you made me a fucking mess.” She lets me fold her back into my arms, and her body melts against me in relief. “I was thrilled when you knocked on my door.” I remember it so clearly. I had asked her to accompany me to a Hard Rock Café celebrity event. I thought she was going to come until I got the text message where she politely excused herself and declined. An angry Silva, realizing I’d been hitting on her when I wasn’t supposed to be and wanting to keep up appearances, set me up with a blonde model to drape over my arm like an accessory.”

“You’d just gotten out of the shower and answered the door in your towel.” She strokes her hands up my arms, tracing my tats along the way.

“And you were in the smoking outfit I thought I saw you in at the event. When I realized it had been you …”—now it’s my turn to release a hot breath—“I wanted you to come in for that drink so bad.”

“I wanted to,” she confesses.

I tease, “You just wanted me for sex.”

“Well, Mr. North,”—now her fingers caress seductively down my chest—“I can’t deny that at the sight of your muscled, inked skin all steamy hot from the shower my blood was racing.”

“Now look what you did.” I take her hand and put it against my dick. “I’m hard as fuck.”

She smiles at her handiwork.

“I see you’re pleased with yourself.” I unfasten each of the tiny pink buttons down her blouse, starting at her neck.

“Oh, I am.” Her voice is heavy with love and lust.

“You were so brave to knock on my hotel room so late, especially after seeing me with someone else—you had no idea what was happening on the other side of that door—but you did it anyway.”

“Blind insanity.” Her breathing accelerates as I push her blouse back off of her shoulders to expose her creamy skin and lacy pink bra.

“Sheer guts, scrapper.” I reach around her and unhook the lace. “You were fucking fearless.”

“Fearless,” she echoes.

I drop the flimsy fabric and stoop to take her pebble hardened nipple between my teeth. “I wanted you so fucking bad that night.” I suck it in and pinch her other nipple between my fingers.

“Oh, Josh.” She sighs as her head falls back.

I lift her like the bride she’s about to become and carry her to the bedroom to treat her like the princess she is.

For a little while, our troubles melt into oblivion. I hope they stay there, but life has taught me differently.

I pray to the highest heavens this works.