Fall Into Me (17 page)

“Tori.” At his quiet voice, she lifted her lashes and met his gray eyes with reluctance. A small frown drew his brow together. “Please don’t.”

“So what does he have to be sorry for—” She dropped the question, dates falling into place. “You said he
was
engaged to Angel, and you said, that night…” She swallowed, pushing the words out. “That night, she was on the rebound.”

He nodded, his gaze steady on hers. “Jim went to Biloxi one week, came back with Rhonda the next, asked Angel for the ring.”

Ouch. She darted a look at the lovey-dovey couple once more. What had seemed romantic now appeared tarnished, a little sordid and tattered around the edges. “Tick’s right. He’s an ass.”

With a harsh sound of disgust, Mark lifted his glass. “That makes two of us.”

She covered his wrist, caressing, soothing. “At least you apologized, and you said she was okay with that.”

“Yeah.” He set the glass down with a thump and turned to her, his eyes stormy. “I’d undo it if I could, Tori, make it so it never happened. But I can’t.”

“I know. It just feels like every time I turn around, we’re running up against it again. I end up feeling jealous and insecure, and I hate that because I don’t want to be those things.” She ran her fingertip over the slight cleft in his chin and sighed. “I just want to be with you.”

“I know, baby.” He tugged her into his arms and folded her close. “I’m sorry, I really am, Tor.”

She toyed with the hair at his nape for a second, then pulled back on a wave of regret. Coney was a gossipy small town and he worked in a political job. Shanna appeared with their food. With some of the edginess gone, Tori lifted the bread and sprinkled pepper over her tomato. “At least we don’t move in the same social circles, so we’re not constantly bumping into one another. That would be awkward.”

Mark froze in the act of spreading mustard on his bun. “Yeah, about that…”

All well-being evaporated. “Oh Lord, Mark, what now?”

He cleared his throat. “Troy Lee’s dating her. Pretty seriously too.”

“Which means we
will
be running into her socially.” Shoulders slumping, she dropped the top piece of bread back on her BLT. Great. Just…great. She tucked her hair behind her ear and summoned a smile for him. She would darn well learn to deal with this. The insecurity was her problem and she’d conquer it, even if it killed her. She wouldn’t let it push him away. “Well, Mama says what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”

He returned her strained smile with one of his own. “You know that applies to us as a couple too, right?”

“Yes, I do. We’ll be okay.” She patted his knee. “Now eat your sandwich. We both have to get back to work.”

The pounding bass of Big & Rich spilling from the jukebox did little to help Angel’s tension headache. Although Monday was a busy day for her, it normally was the bar’s slowest night. However, tonight a larger-than-normal crowd answered her prayers to be kept busy. Even with the noise and the people, her mind weaseled out of its box of blankness.

She smiled and teased and bantered with her regulars, pulled boxes from the supply room, helped Shanna, who worked two jobs and was the best waitress she’d ever had, wait tables. Through it all, her stubborn brain circled back and around and over itself.

Five, six, maybe seven weeks. Do this, don’t do this. Do this and keep it. Do this and give it away, to a couple who could…

Another twisted game of eeny-meeny-miney-moe. Chilled, she rubbed her palms down her arms. And she’d thought herself so damn
responsible
, so careful, taking precautions. She was no better than the girls they’d all talked about in high school, the ones who let a guy beneath their skirts then paid the price of whispers and ruined lives.

“Wow. Good thing you felt well enough to come in after all.” Julie settled a box of Jim Beam on the bar and began stocking. She had to yell over the din. “Do you believe this place tonight? Who opened the floodgates?”

“Stop complaining. This is what I like to see. This is what makes your paycheck, baby.” She moved to the end of the bar to take an order. She darted a look up at the clock over the mirrored wall with its glass shelves full of liquor bottles. Eleven twenty. Before today, she’d have been vibrating with anticipation, knowing Troy Lee was off duty, knowing she’d see him soon. Tonight, each minute after eleven filled her with a sick dread.

Yes, getting involved with him, letting herself fall deeper and deeper into him so fast…that had been responsible too. Guess speeding got her in trouble in other places than the roads.

“Your man’s here.” Julie nudged her on the way back to the storage room.

Dismay crashed through her and she closed her eyes. Lord, please.

“Hey.” Energy and pleasure vibrated in his voice. She couldn’t avoid this forever, might as well just deal with it. She lifted her lashes. The beauty of his grin, the sparkle of those gorgeous blues, slammed her with loss, and she sucked in a harsh breath, her throat hurting all over again. He leaned across the bar to kiss her. “Angel baby, wait until I tell you about my day.”

She wanted to wrap herself around him and cling. Instead, she folded her arms over her midriff and dug her nails into her skin. “Good, huh?”

“The best. Only thing that makes it better is you.” His thumb rubbed across her jaw in a firm caress. She swallowed. He couldn’t say these things, couldn’t be this way, not when she had to tell him… He jerked a hand over his shoulder. “Chris and Cookie came with me. We’re going to have a beer and hang out while I wait for you.”

Sweet Jesus
. Her gaze shot over his shoulder, to the back booth Cookie always chose. Sure enough, he and Chris Parker sat there, Chris talking with his hands while Cookie nodded, grinning.

Somehow, she dragged up enough presence of mind to straighten and try to appear normal. “Corona for you, Bud Light for Cookie. What does Chris drink?”

“Bud Light for him too.”

“Here you go.” She pulled the bottles, her hands shaking only a little, and set them before him.

He leaned forward to kiss her again. “Thanks, babe.”

She watched him walk away, threading his way through tables and patrons to meet his coworkers, his wonderful grin flashing as he joined in on whatever minicelebration was going on there. Her eyes prickled, her nose stuffing up as a wave of tears swamped her. Watching him walk away for good, losing him for good, was going to be so damn
hard
.

The last hour of the night dragged, her every synapse tuned in to him with excruciating awareness. She hurt, all over, as though her confusion and misery manifested itself physically. As the clock ticked nearer to one, patrons drifted out, and Shanna and Julie started on nightly cleanup. Angel busied herself, tallying the day’s paperwork, preparing a deposit, shoring up her flagging nerves.

Troy Lee’s warm, rich tones wafted over her as he walked Shanna and Julie to their cars. The big wooden door closed behind him and his footsteps whispered over the scarred floor. Her stomach plummeted. Lord, this was it.

He wrapped strong arms around her from behind, hugging her to him. The solid heat of his chest against her back tempted her to lean into him. He kissed the side of her neck, his laughter shivering over her.

“I’ve been dying to get close to you…” His voice faded. She bit her lip, holding her body stiff in his embrace, and he went motionless, a sudden tension vibrating through him. “What’s wrong?”

She pushed his arms away, trying to get words beyond the tightness in her raw throat.

“Angel?” He touched her shoulder, a tentative, feathery contact that made her want to cry, to scream.

“I’m pregnant.” Saying the words aloud, even in a small, shaky voice, sent the reality crashing through her all over again. Eyes closed, she dug her nails into her palms and waited for everything to fall apart.

He hissed in a sharp breath. “What?”

“You heard me.” Lifting her chin, setting her jaw, she turned to face him. “I’m pregnant. Somewhere between five and seven weeks, which means…which means…”

He stared at her, gaze darting over her features. A hard swallow bobbed his Adam’s apple. “Which means it’s not mine. We weren’t…it’s only been—”

“It’s not yours.” She rubbed at her arms. Sweet Jesus, she was cold.

He glanced away and chafed a hand over his nape. A frown pulled at his brow. “So five to seven weeks…it could be Jim’s or Cookie’s.”

“Exactly.”

Her voice cracked, and his too-pale face softened. He reached for her. “Ah, baby.”

“Stop. Don’t.” She fought his easy hold, his efforts to draw her close. “What are you doing? Don’t you
get
this?”

“I get it.” He didn’t give in, pulling her to him with a gentle, inexorable grasp.

“Troy Lee.” His name broke as it crossed her lips. “Do you hear me?
I’m pregnant
. I don’t know who the father is—”

“Sshh.” Holding her close, he pressed soothing kisses to her temple and cheek. Tears seeped beneath her lashes, all of the day’s fear and pain gathering in a huge sob welling in her throat. “Damn it, why didn’t you say something earlier? Today had to be hell for you.”

“Why are you doing this?” Weeping in earnest, she wound her fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt.

“Doing what?” He rubbed his hand down her back, his cheek pressed to her hair.

“This.” She uncurled her fingers, planted her palms against his chest and levered away. Panic twisted through her. She waved between them, tears still spilling from her eyes. She sniffled. “Being like this.”

“Angel, you didn’t think…” He grabbed a couple of beverage napkins from the stack under the bar and pressed them into her hand. While she blew her nose, he folded one arm around her shoulders, sheltering her, while he wiped at her wet cheeks. “You didn’t think this would change how I feel about you?”

With damp napkins crumpled in her hands, she looked up at him. “How can it not?”

Confusion darkened his blue eyes. “Because it doesn’t. This doesn’t change who you are—”

“Who I am?” She laughed, the sound strained and mirthless. “You mean a white-trash slut who tumbled from one bed to the next and got knocked up and now doesn’t even know which one it was?”

Anger tightened his features, and his jaw ticked. “Don’t you ever say that about yourself again.”

“It’s true.” She swung an arm out in an expansive gesture. “Isn’t that what everyone is going to say?”

“Screw what everybody says. Angel, I…” He cradled her face in his palm and inhaled sharply. “I love you and nothing about this changes that.”

He couldn’t say these things, couldn’t
do
this. “You don’t love me. You can’t.”

“Actually, I do, and believe it or not, I’m capable of loving. Christine, my sisters, my Grandma Shirley.” His mouth hitched in a half-grin, although his eyes remained serious. “You.”

She stared at him, thoughts tumbling over themselves in her fatigued brain. “What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled her to him, wrapped his arms about her in a tight embrace, rubbed his face against her hair. “But you don’t have to worry about me going anywhere. I’m right here, Angel.”

In slow motion, she allowed herself to lean in, to link her arms about his waist, to drink in his solid presence. “It’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I can’t ask you to.”

His kiss at her temple was fierce. “You’re not asking me to do anything. I’m here because I want to be.”

“I think…” She swallowed and pulled back, brushing her hair behind her ears, not quite able to meet his gaze. “I think we have to slow down, though. Until I figure out what to do. I have to get my head straight.”

His hand slipped to her nape, to become a soothing, caressing weight there. “I can get that. You need some time.”

She covered her face with both hands, a shaky half-laugh, half-sob escaping her. “You’re not normal, Troy Lee.”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t think normal is what you need.” He kissed her forehead. “Let me drive you home.”

“I can drive.”

“I know you can. Let me take care of you a little, all right? You look like you need it. You can sleep in, and I’ll get Chris to run over here with me in the morning and we’ll drop off your car at your place.” He tucked her against his chest again, mouth buried in her hair. “Sound good?”

She nodded and sighed into his chest. “Take me home.”

Mark’s cell rang what felt like mere moments after his head hit the pillow and he shut his eyes. Without opening them, he fumbled for the vibrating rectangle. “Cook.”

“Hey.” Suppressed tears quivered in Tori’s voice, bringing him to instant alertness. “Did I wake you?”

“I just laid down. What’s wrong?”

“Can you come over?”

Nightmares, flashbacks of the rape. She didn’t have to say it. “I’m on my way.”

He tugged on jeans and a T-shirt, slid his feet into loafers and tucked his phone and keys in his pocket. This late the apartment complex was quiet and deserted. The temperature had dropped and a wave of goose bumps lifted on his bare arms. He jogged up the stairs to Tori’s second-floor apartment, but she swung the door open before he could knock. Sure enough, in her pale face her eyes glittered with unshed tears.