Still (24 page)

Then her gaze, almost against her will, strayed over to the beer on the second shelf and she noticed that a six pack of beer was missing.

Sour bile filled her mouth and she carefully shut the door to the fridge before turning and leaning against it. How stupid could she be? Of course he’d continue to drink, after all that had been his number one source for comfort. Drinkers didn’t just stop, they’d go back to it in times of stress and she’d certainly given him a good deal of stress over the past few days.

Still, he’d been sneaking around doing it. She clenched her hands into fists, her nails biting into her palms. The betrayal hurt, cut deep and fast, easily slicing through the fragile ropes holding her heart together. She’d trusted him, in her home and with her body, and he’d snuck around behind her back. Why couldn’t he have talked with her about this? Did he have so little faith in her?

Owen would have never have betrayed her like this.

“Wyatt!” The word left her mouth in an angry yell and echoed through the kitchen and down the hall.

“Michelle?” His voice sounded faint, but closer when he yelled again, “Michelle?”

“In the kitchen.”

He strode in, clad only in a pair of jeans and wearing some thick leather gloves. Flakes of sawdust lay scattered about his chest and arms while the scent of wood wafted from his skin. He must have showered at some point because the glitter was gone and his hair was shorter. Cut close on the sides and a bit long on top, he looked more masculine than ever. His eyes were clear and bright, but she couldn’t smell his breath this close. She’d give him a chance to explain, to right the wrong between them.

“What the fuck are you doing stealing my beer!”

He stepped back as if slapped, the color draining from his face. “I didn’t steal anything!”

Oh, he looked so pissed and hurt. For a second she wondered if she’d misjudged him, but the evidence spoke for itself. Six packs of beer didn’t get up and walk away. “Don’t lie to me. There is nothing I hate more than a liar.”

He tugged off his gloves and threw them on the counter. “I’m not lying to you. What the fuck, Michelle? Do you really think I’d feel the need to sneak anything? I’m a grown man and if I wanted a drink I’ll have a fucking drink-but I didn’t drink your goddamn beer!”

His shout echoed through the kitchen and his anger was swiftly turning to rage, but she was too pissed and wounded to care. “You can have a goddamned drink anytime you want, but not in my fucking house. Not until you get your shit together and I don’t have to worry about you ending up sitting on your dead friend’s grave with a knife.”

Tears welled in her eyes and she dashed them away with an angry swipe. Wyatt clenched and unclenched his hands, his nostrils flaring. “Is that what you think I am? Some pathetic suicidal drunk?”

“No! At least I didn’t think that until I found out you were stealing from me.”

“I didn’t take anything!”

“Yes you did!”

“Fuck!”

Wyatt grabbed the vase holding the single rose and hurled it against the wall. The fine crystal shattered and water splashed down onto the tiles of the floor. The beautiful flower landed in the puddle, its petals mangled and cut by the broken glass.

They stared at each other for a brief moment before Yuki’s voice cut through the air. “Well, I can see now would be a good time to borrow Wyatt for some sketches I wanted to do.”

Michelle looked over to the doorway of the mudroom and found Yuki glaring, but not at Wyatt, rather at her. “This is not a good time.”

“Oh yes, this is the perfect time.” Yuki motioned to Wyatt, the golden bangles on her slender arm clicking together. He closed his eyes and breathed hard through his nose, a fine sheen of sweat covering his skin. “Come on, Wyatt. I need your help and your Mistress needs a moment to realize what a fucking bitch she’s being.”

“What!?” Michelle whirled around to fully face Yuki.

Her best friend shook her head, anger and sorrow mixing together on her expressive face. “Michelle, James took the beer.”

All the strength went out of her legs and she slumped against the side of the refrigerator. “Why?”

“When you didn’t answer your phone I sent him over for the stuff I needed. He grabbed some beer figuring that Wyatt wouldn’t want to drink chocolate martinis with you and me.”

She couldn’t look at Wyatt, couldn’t face him after her accusations. “Wyatt...I…”

He walked past her without responding, and she felt cold in his wake, like she’d been sprayed with icy water. She slumped to the floor against the refrigerator, staring at the broken vase and damaged flower.

It had been so beautiful and she’d ruined it.

Chapter 11

He didn’t think he’d ever been so insulted in his life. Here he was, bowing to her every whim, doing everything he could to make her happy…and it wasn’t enough. How could she possibly think he’d steal from her?

Yuki’s smooth voice cut through his thoughts, “Because she’s afraid to love you, not realizing that she’s probably already in love with you. Now stop moving before I strap your ass.”

He glanced over at Yuki where she sat at a drawing table near the barn wall, busily rubbing out something with her eraser. “What?”

“You were thinking out loud.” She blew off the eraser dust and looked up. “I need you to put your arms back up again.” Her gaze flitted up and then back down. “By the way, love the cock ring.”

Fighting against the need to cover himself, he raised his arms above his head and tried to ignore James’ chuckles from the other side of the workspace. He laced his fingers together and stretched upwards, the muscles of his body straining as he reached as high as he could against the wide wooden beam sunk deep into the barn floor beneath his feet. They were in Yuki's sketching room, a warm, quiet place where she liked to start her projects.

James sat in a nearby giant bean bag chair, his computer on his lap as he ‘played the market’. “Take it easy on him. He’s not used to holding positions for so long.”

Yuki shot her husband a glare that he didn’t see and turned back to Wyatt. “Do you need a break?”

His shoulders groaned in protest, but he held the position. “No, I’m good.”

She shook her head. “So in guy speak that means your arms are about to fall off. Throw on your pants and come here. You can take a look at what you’ve been suffering for.”

James shut his laptop and wandered over to his wife while Wyatt jerked on his pants. He’d been here for the last three hours, being put through one torturous position after another as Yuki sketched him from different angles. In that time his rage had drained away, leaving him feeling raw and battered inside. Michelle’s accusations hurt more than he’d thought possible and he really wanted to see her, but Yuki was making him wait, saying Michelle needed to do a little scraping and come to him.

James let out a low whistle. “That is going to be fucking awesome.”

Intrigued, Wyatt walked across the bare floor, standing behind Yuki’s shoulder. “Holy shit.”

Without a doubt she was one of the most talented artists he’d ever met. She’d drawn a giant tree with small, barely formed leaves like one would see in spring. She had him bound against it, every muscle and detail of his body captured, right down to his tattoos and nipple rings. He looked closer and realized that his image wasn’t bound to the tree trunk by ropes, but by vines twisting down from the branches above. An even closer look revealed the faces and shapes of three women, nude and rising out of the tree to curve around him.

“Who are they?” He pointed to one of the women, being careful not to touch the picture.

“Wood nymphs, and you are their human sacrifice.”

“It’s…I mean I’ve never seen anything like this. The way you have the bodies of the women forming out of the bark, it’s just amazing.”

With a pleased smile Yuki nodded. “Wait until you see the sculpture. I think I’m going to do it in a mixture of copper and bronze. With the right lighting it will look as if the nymphs are rising up out of the tree, a great, ethereal contrast to the solid, masculine presence of your body.”

James moved over to the side, looking at it from a different angle. “You know, it might be cool to have little flowering vines coming from one of the nymph’s fingers and trailing through his nipple ring. Maybe pulling outwards a bit?”

“Hmmm, that would be interesting.” She glanced up at Wyatt and back down to the picture. “I’ve managed to capture his anger, but if I did your suggestion I’d need to temper it with some pleasure. Can you give me your ‘O’ face Wyatt?”

He laughed, the hollow feeling in his chest easing a bit. “Sorry, but I’m not really in an ‘O’ face mood at the moment.”

Yuki swiveled her chair around to face him. “You ready to talk about Michelle now?”

He frowned and glanced at the closed door. “Look, I don’t really feel right talking about her behind her back.”

“I understand that, but you need to understand what’s going on.”

“Oh, I understand.” He began to wander around the room, trying to keep his temper under control. “She thinks I’m a thief, liar, and an alcoholic.”

“Well, she might have considered that notion for a moment, but I don’t really think that’s what her outburst was all about. Sit down on the couch, your pacing is making me antsy.”

He grumbled but did as she asked, lounging back on the wide black leather couch. “Better?”

“Yes. Let me think of how to put this to you best. I don’t want to keep you here all night with the entire story, not when Michelle will be here any minute.”

He glanced at the door, hope mixing with his sadness. “How do you know that?”

“Because I know Michelle. She’s spent the last five years with one foot in the grave, Wyatt.” He started to speak but she held up her hand. “Just listen. Has she mentioned Owen to you yet?”

His heart constricted when he thought about her agonized crying. “Yeah.”

“And she told you how he died?”

“Yeah. He got shot in a robbery by a kid while trying to protect Michelle.”

“After his funeral James and I had to physically carry her away from his grave where she’d been promising him that she’d never love another like she did him. I love Michelle more than anyone in the world aside from James, but I’d about given up on her. Did you ever wonder why we moved down here with her?”

His chest hurt at the knowledge that Michelle would never let herself love him. “She said something about you wanting more space for your art.”

“That is partially true, but the real reason is we were afraid about what would happen to Michelle once she was truly alone. While she was in the military she was constantly surrounded by people whether she liked it or not, forced to live and participate. I thought it was good for her, especially after she started talking about you in her letters. There was an excitement, a joy that I hadn’t seen from her in years.”

James sat on the opposite side of the couch and picked up where his wife left off. “Then the attack that almost killed you happened and she started to slip back into her guilt again, but this time guilt about failing you. I’ve never met a woman who loves her guilt as much as Michelle.”

Yuki’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “James, you shouldn’t say that. Think of how you would feel if you ever lost me like she lost Owen.”

He shook his head, a stubborn set to his jaw. “It’s not the same. Oh I know she loved Owen, hell we all did, he was a great guy, but they’d only been together for two years.”

“Time doesn’t mean anything when it comes to the heart,” Yuki insisted.

“Mistress, you have to stop enabling her.”

To Wyatt’s surprise Yuki nodded and her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I know I do, James, but it’s so hard seeing her sad.”

Wanting to get to the point before Michelle got here, Wyatt said, “So what does this have to do with me?”

James sighed. “In you, Michelle sees a chance at a new life. I think she’s loved you for a long time though she’d never admit it to herself. In her mind loving you would mean betraying Owen’s memory, breaking her oath to him sworn on his grave. So she can’t have what she wants most in the world without eviscerating herself with guilt.”

“That’s fucked up.” He ran his hand through his newly cut hair. “But she seems so…like she has her shit together.”

“Of course she does, she’s being strong for you.” Yuki stood up and moved over to the couch, taking a seat on James’ lap. “It’s easy to ignore her own issues when yours are there to distract her.”

“Wait, are you saying that she only wants me as long as she thinks I need her help?”

“No, I wasn’t bullshitting when I said she loves you. You should have read the letters home about you. She was always going on about what a good, kind, strong, and honorable man you were.”

James ran his hand down his wife’s braid. “And we’re really hoping you stay. Not because Michelle needs you, but because you guys have a shot at something special…if you can help her move on.”

He slumped back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

“Be there for her. Don’t let her push you away.”

“Time heals all wounds,” Yuki added. “I think on some level she’s already let Owen go, but she’s afraid to open herself up to that kind of heartache again. It’s an automatic reaction from her mind to push you away. Think of it like your PTSD.”

“She told you about that?”

“Not everything, but enough so that if you had a panic attack we’d be ready.”

James kicked at his foot, drawing his gaze back to them. “Don’t be mad at her. She was trying to save me from an ass beating. Let’s face it, if we were in a fight I’d walk away looking like I got gored by a bull.”

He shook his head and gave the couple a weary glance. “You’re not afraid of being around me?”

Yuki shook her head. “No. I saw you in that kitchen. You were as mad as I’ve ever seen anyone, but you didn’t hurt her. Instead you turned your attention to an inanimate object and made sure to throw it somewhere it wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Something lightened in his heart as he realized the truth of her words. He’d been harboring the fear of hurting those around him for so long. “You said her thing with Owen is like my PTSD, how so?”