Playing Dirty (4 page)

And now he was back. He was alive and fully expecting to come home, to walk back into the life he’d been torn from and resume his position within their family. And where did that leave Trenton? More importantly, what about Phoebe? No matter what happened, someone was bound to get hurt. But her first concern had to be Phoebe.

She loosened her grip on the railing and let out a slow, even breath. First, she needed to call her sister. No matter how much she’d missed Phoebe the past fourteen days and was anxious to have her daughter with her, bringing her home today simply wasn’t going to happen. If Griffen couldn’t keep her an extra day, then she’d see if her dad could take Phoebe overnight.
 

No matter how much Ford and Trenton argued, nothing was going to be decided right this second. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and imagined Ford and Trenton were as well. Heaven knew, she needed to at least try to manage a few hours sleep, because at this point, her brain had simply refused to function. If she did nothing else this morning, she needed to tell Ford and Trenton she wasn’t yet ready to deal.
 

Her feet weighed a ton as she turned toward the house. The hydrangeas she and Ford had planted the summer before they’d left for college caught her eye. She was exhausted and numb, but her mind wouldn’t shut down for the life of her. Every place she looked, she saw Ford’s presence, his touch. She’d have loved nothing more than to liberate that fresh bottle of scotch from the liquor cabinet, but she knew from experience no amount of alcohol would staunch the flood of memories of Ford.
 

She struggled to draw air into her lungs as more memories assailed her. The first time she’d ever lain eyes on him and how she knew in that split second there’d never be another guy for her. Her throat tightened with unshed tears as she recalled their first date, their first kiss. Their first everything.

God, she’d been so crazy in love with him.

When they were mere juniors in high school, he’d given her a promise ring for her seventeenth birthday. Memories of the first time they’d made love, which had been a disaster because they’d been too young and too nervous to fully understand the emotional depth of their actions, crashed into her. Eventually they’d figured it all out, and once they had, there’d been no going back for either of them. The night before their high school graduation, the promise ring had been exchanged for a half-carat diamond engagement ring. Ford had saved for the pricey ring by working the previous two summers and all through his senior year in the garage of the used car lot in town.
 

For half of her life she’d lived under the belief she and Ford were destined to be together forever. Then his plane had gone down and forever had come far too soon, ripping her world apart. As she reached for the door, she couldn’t help thinking that she’d been given a second chance at happiness. The only question was, which husband was her true second chance?

* * *

Trenton had never been a violent man. As a rule, he didn’t lose his temper and he always,
always
kept his emotions in check. He used his wits, not his fists, to get what he wanted. When he faced an opponent, he used his brains, not his brawn. The fact that he’d hauled off and connected his fist to Ford Grayson’s jaw was not his brightest move, but when he’d seen the guy manhandle his wife, he’d lost it. Even now, he wanted nothing more than to give into the rage still simmering inside him. Explode. Go completely ballistic and tear apart the man who’d caused this crazy nightmare in the first place.

 
Instead, he scrubbed his hand down his face, then looked over at Mattie’s…what? Husband? First husband? What the hell did you call a man who’d come back from the dead? Lazarus?

Why couldn’t Ford Grayson have just stayed dead?
 

“She’s moved on, you know,” Trenton said. “She buried you and moved on with her life.”

“With you.”

Trenton refused to feel guilty, not when he and Mattie had done nothing wrong. Hell, they’d done everything right. “She’d been widowed for over three years when we met. We took things slow,” he said. “We dated for more than a year before she finally agreed to marry me.”

At that, Ford shifted his gaze to the wood floor between his feet. He sat on the edge of the chair, his elbows on his knees, an empty glass clasped between his hands. Finally, he looked back at Trenton, pain evident in his eyes. “And what about my daughter?”

“Phoebe’s a great kid. Smart,” he managed a half grin. “Too damned smart. Mattie’s done a good job of raising her.”

“Alone,” Ford added. More than a trace of bitterness filled his voice.

Trenton walked back to the liquor cabinet where he contemplated another drink. “Thomas and Griffen help out some. But yes, for the most part, it’s just been Matt and Phoebe.”

The sound of the door opening had Trenton tensing. He honestly didn’t know what to expect. Without warning, his life had gone from near perfect to sheer disaster in a matter of seconds. Unfortunately, he didn’t see their circumstances improving any time soon. Not so long as Mattie’s dead husband continued to draw breath.

Mattie.
His
wife.
His
, not Grayson’s. The woman who only two weeks ago he’d promised to love for the rest of his life. She came inside and walked into the family room looking as if she wanted to be anywhere else in the world. He couldn’t blame her, because he had the same thought. If only they could turn back the clock, return to their elegant suite in one of the finest five-star hotels Paris had to offer. Go back to that moment in time when their lives still held the promise of their future—together.
 

She looked to him, then at Grayson. The anguish in her beautiful green eyes hurt him in ways he’d never imagined possible. He loved this woman, would do anything for her, but there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to ease her pain.

Mattie’s gaze kept darting between him and Grayson. He wanted to be sympathetic. He wanted to be understanding.
 

He wanted to be the one she chose.

And therein lie the issue. Whether she realized it or not, Mattie had to be the one to choose between him and Grayson. And until she did, all of their lives would remain in limbo.
 

Mattie cleared her throat. “I have something to say.” She waited until she had their attention. “I know none of this is easy. For any of us. And I know you both have questions. God knows I have a few. But I need some time.” She looked to Grayson. “Trenton and I have been up for nearly twenty-four hours. I’m exhausted, and I’m sure he is, as well. What do you say we all get some rest, then we can attempt to sort this out?”

“Fine,” Grayson said. “But I’m not leaving. This is still my house.”

“Don’t think I’m leaving you alone with him,” Trenton countered. No way in hell was he leaving Mattie and Grayson alone together. “It’s not happening.”

“Ford, why don’t you take the guest room?” Mattie suggested. At Grayson’s curt nod, she turned her attention to Trenton. “Will the day bed in the study work for you?”

Not really, but what was he going to do? Start a territorial pissing match over sleeping arrangements? He hated that Grayson was even under the same roof as Mattie. Grayson no doubt felt the same about him, but that thought failed to bring him so much as a modicum of comfort. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much any of them could do about the situation at this point. And Mattie was right, he
could
use a few hours shut eye.

“That’ll be fine,” Trenton said.

“For now,” Grayson added, shooting him a dark look.
 

Mattie winced. Trenton didn’t appreciate the threatening tone, but bit his lip for her sake. They would sort this out, as she’d said. Unfortunately, they were in a no-win situation. Because no matter how it went down, in the end, someone was going to get hurt.

Three

FORD QUIETLY CLOSED the door to Mattie’s bedroom.
Their
bedroom. Not his and Mattie’s, but the one she’d been sharing with Avery. He stared at the queen-sized bed and struggled to control the white-hot rage that had him wanting to cross the hall to the study and rip Trenton Avery apart with his bare hands.
 

How did they get past this? How did he forget that his wife had fallen in love and married another man?
 

He didn’t like the answer.

Avoiding the bed, he walked to a blue-floral chaise he didn’t recognize and sat as the door to the en suite bathroom opened, spilling light onto the shaggy throw rug. Steam billowed into the bedroom a heartbeat before Mattie appeared, wearing a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a matching, pink tank top. In that moment she wasn’t a thirty-year-old wife and mother, she was the young girl he’d fallen hard for, the one who’d promised to love him forever. He saw the young bride who’d climbed into his dented pickup truck, bringing with her little more than their hopes and dreams as they headed off to Baylor University.
 

She walked toward the bed, then halted when she spotted him sitting on the chaise. The barest hint of a smile tugged her lips, lips he seriously longed to claim again. His heart twisted at the sight of her. He still couldn’t believe he was here, that he’d survived Hell only to come home to find his wife had chosen to spend her life with someone else.

What the fuck happened to forever?
 

Her smile evaporated, replaced by a frown. “You shouldn’t be in here,” she said as she dragged a comb through her damp hair.
 

He really didn’t give a shit. At this point, he’d take any advantage he could, fair or unfair. Playing nice wasn’t his style, and his wife should at least remember that much about him. “You’ve changed your hair.”

She let out a sigh. “It’s been five years, Ford. Hairstyles change.”
 

“I like it long,” he said with a shrug. Is this what they’d been reduced to? Safe, inane topics like the length of her hair? Or maybe all the renovations and new furniture choices she’d made with no input from him, putting her stamp on the home that had once belonged to his mother.

She moved to the side of the queen bed that had replaced the king they’d once shared, then sat directly across from him. The hesitation and caution banked in her gaze had him feeling as if it were eighteen hundred miles separating them rather than a mere eighteen inches.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do,” she said quietly. “If I do what my instincts are screaming at me to do, I’ll betray Trenton. But if I ignore those instincts, then I’m betraying you, or my memories of you. This is all very confusing.”

He pushed his fingers through his hair, not sure what he was supposed to say. There should be no hesitation between them. No doubt or insecurity. They were Ford and Mattie Grayson, childhood sweethearts who’d promised to love each other until the end of time.

And then he’d died. No amount of guilt could change the facts. He’d died and she’d struggled to make sense of her life without him. He understood. What he didn’t like was how successful she’d been at making a life for herself without him.

“You’ve gotten gray,” she said.
 

What’s next? The weather?
 

“You really shouldn’t be in here,” she added. “It’s not...”

“Not what? Right? You’re still my wife, Mattie.”
Her lips pulled into a tight line. “Where have you been?” she finally asked him.
 

He reached across the space separating them, took hold of her hand and pulled her to him. Instead of slipping into his embrace like he’d wanted, she moved to his side and sat next to him on the chaise. Her reluctance annoyed the hell out of him. He wanted to be understanding, but all he could manage was searing, hot jealousy. Legally, she might still be his wife, but he understood she would have to consider Avery’s feelings. They were newlyweds, after all, even if his resurrection nullified her marriage.
 

“We can talk about that later,” he said. His stock answer. Funny how even in five years, some things never changed.
 

She reached for his hand and laced her fingers with his. Tears clouded her gaze as she looked at him. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered. Her breath hitched. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

He turned so he faced her. The anguish in her eyes equaled the agony deep in his own heart. God, could they ever come back from the hurt they were causing? Could he forgive her? Could she forget Avery? Could he get past the fact that another man had taken what had been his? Had touched her, loved her?

“Oh, Ford,” she said as she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him. She hung on tight and he slid his hands up and down her back, cradling her to him. For the first time since stepping back onto American soil, he felt home.

The tears she’d been fighting all morning finally arrived. Her entire body trembled with the force of the sobs tearing from her. He held her, attempted to comfort her as she cried, as she expelled the emotion she’d kept bottled inside since she’d walked in the door and found him in the family room waiting for her. The truth was, he didn’t really know what to say to her. For years the words he’d planned in his mind, over and over during his captivity, escaped him. Maybe he’d lived with fantasies for too long, but those fantasies had helped him maintain a semblance of sanity. Dreams of his wife, the illusion of holding her against him, of tasting her sweet lips, inhaling her exotic scent, of feeling her body beneath his own had helped keep him strong. For the first time in years he’d been able to trade a portion of those dreams for reality. The taste of heaven he’d kept alive in his dreams was no longer a figment stored in the dark recesses of his mind.