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Authors: Jane Harvey-Berrick

Roustabout (The Traveling #3) (24 page)

BOOK: Roustabout (The Traveling #3)
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But when her breathing started to quicken, I spread my hand over her belly and used my thumb against her clit.

She screamed out my name,
my name
, and tightened around me, drawing a powerful orgasm up my shaft that left me gasping beneath her.

Tera fell forward onto my chest as my body continued to pulse inside her, and soft arms fastened around my neck, her breathing harsh in my ear.

An intense wave of emotion rushed through me. How could I ever be enough for a woman like this? Beautiful, smart, funny, kind—and rich. I couldn’t forget that. What chance in hell did I have to make a woman like this stay? She’d run from me. She
should
run from me. I had nothing to offer—less than nothing.

But for the first time in a long time, I wanted a woman to need me, to hold onto me and never let go. If only I could be the man worthy of her. But I wasn’t.

And I had to accept that all I’d ever have would be this.

I had to live for the moment—whether I wanted to or not.

I’d nearly blown it by boning her without a rubber.

After the shitstorm with Renee and learning about Scotty, the thought of doing that to Tera was horrifying. I knew she was on the pill, but I couldn’t risk fucking her without protection for her sake. Yeah, I’d always wrapped it, but some of the skanks I’d been with . . . not something I felt too proud of right about now.

I decided I’d make an appointment at the local clinic when I was up in Arcata and get tested for everything. It was the least I could do. The very least.

I lay on my good side in TC’s enormous as fuck bed, sweaty from some really amazing sex. My shoulder hurt like hell, but she didn’t need to know that and besides, it was so worth it.

Curled up beside me, she trailed her fingers over the top of the tattoo that started on my shoulder, her expression thoughtful.

“Are you ever going to tell me about the tattoos? Please, I’d like to know. You tell me what you think I should hear, but I want to know
you
.”

I frowned. “It’s not a pretty story, TC.”

“None of them are,” she said sadly, “but tell me anyway.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. Even then I could feel her patient gaze as we laid facing each other. We’d been naked together for hours, but speaking these words stripped me bare. I had no defenses left with Tera.

I took a deep breath.

“After I’d seen Renee with Randolph . . . with my stepfather . . . I had to leave. I couldn’t handle thinking about her like that. So I threw some shit in a bag and headed out on the I-40. I rode all night, only stopping when I needed to fill up the gas tank. I just kept going until my eyes were closing and I damn near drove off of the road.”

I felt her drop a soft kiss on my shoulder and paused as she stroked the small of my back.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“You sure you want to hear this?”

“I want to know
you
, so yes; the answer is yes.”

I sighed and rested my head on my hand before continuing.

“I didn’t even know the name of the town or which state I was in. But I found myself downtown, drinking in a real sleaze pit. I had fake ID, but no one cared enough to even look at it. I bought a bottle of tequila . . . and that was the last thing I remembered.”

Tera pushed a lock of sweaty hair from my face, concern shining in her crystal blue eyes.

I craned my neck to kiss her lips lightly and she smiled.

“The tattoos?”

“I don’t remember, and that’s the truth. But I woke up with my sleeping bag glued to my back and the skin was sore and throbbing. Although to be fair, my whole body was throbbing in time with the mofo of all hangovers.”

Tera laughed lightly.

“Exactly how much had I drunk the night before? I had no idea.”

I rubbed a finger across my eyebrow, remembering.

But here’s the thing that I’ve learned about drinking: it only numbs the pain, it doesn’t kill it. And with the sun searing my eyeballs, every gut-wrenching memory poured back in technicolor.

“Well, I managed to roll onto my side before I puked, so the day didn’t start completely shit.” I glanced at Tera but my lame joke seemed lost on her. “I squinted up at the sun, then immediately shut my eyes again, rolling onto my back. But the second I did, a bolt of pain shot up my side. That’s when I looked over my shoulder.”

I mimed the whole
what the fuck?
look that I must have had on my face, and this time Tera laughed.

“Jeez! Just when exactly did I get a freakin’ tattoo? Man, that is ugly!”

Gingerly I rolled onto my front so Tera could more easily trace over the four stars spilling down my back, outlined with thick black ink.

“Why stars?” she asked.

I had no idea why I chose stars. Maybe because they seemed so distant, glittering, peaceful compared to how I was feeling.

I felt disgust and hatred toward Randolph, but it was Renee who’d damn near broke my heart.

I turned my head to Tera and gave her a small smile.

“Well, I was too drunk to remember talking about it with the tattoo artist, but thinking about it later, maybe I thought that if Fate or life or my own damn family was going to shit on me, I’d smile at them all. I’d keep smiling till my lips cracked, and I’d
never
let them know that they’d beaten me.”

“I can understand that,” she said softly. “The first time I saw you, standing by that bonfire, you were laughing. Wherever you go, people smile. I remember thinking,
Oh, that’s him—that’s Tucker—Smiling Tucker McCoy
.” She paused. “You don’t have to smile for me, Tucker, not unless you want to.”

I held her small hand in mine and kissed her smooth skin.

“It wasn’t all bad, sugar, because that’s the day I joined the carnival.”

 

I remember someone shouted at me in guttural Spanish. A short fat guy with thick black hair was standing over me.

When he saw my confused frown, he spoke in heavily-accented English.

“Hey, gringo! You can’t sleep here.”

I staggered to my feet, staring around me.

“Where am I?”

“A bad place, kid,” he said, shaking his head. “You should leave. And get yourself an AIDS test after getting marked in a shithole like that—people piss in the alley where you were sleeping, and that bastardo uses dirty needles.”

He threw me a sympathetic look as I gagged, my empty stomach spilling out what was left of the tequila I’d drunk the night before.

The tattoo parlor had a broken neon sign advertising its services, and was next to a toilet. I heaved again, then forced a smile.

“If I die young, at least I’ll leave a good-lookin’ corpse.”

The man rolled his eyes and wandered away, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

I looked around me again. There was nothing that gave a clue as to where I was.

I stood up, reeling slightly as I tried to get my balance. Je-zus! What loony juice did I drink last night?

I patted my pants pocket, relieved to find my wallet and cell phone. But the battery was dead and I’d forgotten my charger when I’d slung a few clothes in my backpack and left Tennessee for good.

Maybe I could sell the phone because there was no one I wanted to call. I hesitated for a second, wondering if I should try to message Brandon, but then I shrugged off the idea. He’d always talked about going away to college, so he was leaving Tennessee anyway. He’d understand, I hoped.

When I checked inside my wallet, my smile slipped for a moment—twenty bucks wasn’t going to get me far. I had $237 in my checking account, but I’d have to be careful until I could get a job, because there was no way in hell I was going to turn tail and go back. I’d rather starve.

But first of all I needed water—a lot of it, and some greasy food to stick to the sides of my stomach. If I could force it down long enough to do some good.

My bike was in the alleyway where I’d left it, but it stunk of piss and I guessed that some asshole had drained the pipe without caring what he was doing. Hell, for all I knew, it could have been me. I smiled at the idea of marking my territory with my own piss.

Yep, I’d smile till my teeth fell out. Nothing would stop me smiling.

Talking to some locals, I learned that I hadn’t wandered across the Mexican border in the dark. I was in Leary, Texas . . . wherever the hell that was. I must have crossed the State line during the night.

Hot, yellow dust and jewel-blue skies; men with leathery skin and wide-brimmed Stetsons strolled in high-heeled cowboy boots. Where I came from it was more truckers’ caps and work boots.

I pushed my bike to save gas until I could find an ATM. I found a cheap tapas bar first, and bought a tortilla filled with chili, while the cute Latina waitress brought me a jug of water and a clean glass. I smiled at her and winked, grinning to myself when she blushed.

Then the image of Renee came into my mind, and the smile almost choked me.

By midmorning, I’d pushed that damn bike across half the town and still couldn’t find an ATM that would take my card. I was beginning to feel desperate when I heard the sound of tinny music.

I glanced up, wiping the sweat from my face with my arm, and saw the towering skeleton of a Ferris wheel with bright red and yellow buckets turning slowly through the scorching air.

Maybe I should just run away and join the circus. Well, I’d already done the running away bit. I could ask around if they had work.

An older woman with brassy blonde hair was sitting by the entrance selling tickets.

She looked me up and down, her hard eyes seeing right through me. Her eyeballs crawled along the bare skin of my arms, a feeling like ants were swarming all over. I had to stop myself from scratching.

“You can’t take that motorcycle inside, kid.”

“No, ma’am. I was wondering, you got any work? I’ll do pretty much anything.”

She squinted at me.

“Law after you?”

“No, ma’am,” I answered, trying to look trustworthy.

“Family?”

“No one who’d care,” I replied truthfully.

“Hmm . . .”

Her eyes skated over me again, making me shiver.

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” I lied.

“Kind of scrawny for 18,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“Must be ‘cause I’m a hard worker,” I smiled at her. “Just all gristle and muscle.”

She laughed, showing a gap where her front teeth should be.

“I like you, kid. Go see Landon. He might have something for you.”

Walking through the archway into the fairground, the door to my old life slammed shut behind me. I’d found a new way to live.

 

I glanced at Tera who was listening intently, her face screwed up in a cute little frown.

“Is that where you met Kestrel?”

“Nah, I didn’t meet him till much later. I spent six years as a roustabout, then mixed that up with a little stunt riding, Wall of Death, you know?”

Tera smiled. “I do now, although I’m finding it’s a learning curve.”

“Yeah, you gotta learn the lingo, sugar. So I did that for a while and then I met Kes.”

She sighed. “You’ve known him longer than I have and he’s my brother!”

I could hear the frustration in her voice.

“Don’t think of it that way,” I said gently. “It’s not the length of time you’ve known someone that matters. I’ve known my stepbrothers since I was in first grade: they were shitty then, and they’re fat and shitty now. But Kes is solid: you’re his family and he’ll do anything for you.”

She nodded slowly. “The carnies are his real family though—you and Zef, Zachary, Luke, Ollo. And Aimee,” she added with a smile. “She’s a carnie now, too.”

We stared at each other, each acknowledging the truth the other told. Family: that was a loaded word.

“So where does that leave us?” she asked, her voice quiet, hesitant.

My reply was reluctant. “I don’t know.”

It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.

Tucker

I woke when an alarm started ringing in my ear.

“Urgh, what?”

“Shh,” said Tera. “I have to get up for work, but it’s early, go back to sleep,” and she silenced me with the briefest of kisses.

I was vaguely aware of the shower running in the bathroom as I dozed through a haze of meds and too little sleep.

BOOK: Roustabout (The Traveling #3)
12.28Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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