This Is Love, Baby (War & Peace #2) (10 page)

I reopen my eyes and affix my gaze to my father. With furrowed brows I plead for him to explain to her that Baylee is my love, not some criminal. He frowns and nods, a knowing look on his face.

“Parking is a nightmare around here,” another voice complains, interrupting our exchange when he enters the room.

A middle-aged man with a receding hairline strolls in with his hands on his hips. I become fixated on his unusually long fingernails—too long for a man—on each hand. Black. Dirty and filthy underneath. And crawling with bacteria. Who the fuck doesn’t clean under their fingernails?

My dad is saying something to Stark about Baylee, but I can’t take my horrified stare from the man who takes those same disgusting fingers and retrieves a discolored toothpick from his front pocket. He pops it into his mouth between his teeth and starts gnawing on the thing like he’s a goddamned beaver.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

The sound grates on me but the sight is much worse.

Moisture forms on his lips and I shudder to think of how many millions of disgusting microbes are infesting that mouth of his.

He pinches the end of the toothpick to whittle between two of his teeth. I want to look away from this sick show but I’m completely glued to his revolting behavior.

When he slips the toothpick from his mouth, inspecting the end of it, I gag.

A small chunk of something mushy sits on the tip. His tongue darts out and he slurps it off causing my stomach to clench in protest.

What kind of fucking pig did they let into my room?!

The room spins and my world goes dark as I attempt to force the images out of my mind. But the vision is already permanently etched there. I can almost sense the toxic microbes from inside his mouth tainting the air around me and my lungs ache from the very idea of that shit finding its way in there. I can practically feel it crawling inside of me, contaminating every inch of my insides.

I gag again and again.

A commotion resounds in the room. Shouts and voices. I ignore it all as I try to calm my heart, which is clawing painfully in my chest to get away from the contaminated air I’ve breathed in. Just when I think I’m about to pass out, a cold blast enters my vein. At first, I assume it’s something horrible and toxic, but then it travels quickly and blissfully up my arm, leaving a numbing wake in its path. It can’t get to my brain fast enough.

I beg for it.

Crave it.

Need for it to numb the madness.

And it does. Soon, I’m attempting to blink my eyes open to tell them Baylee is my savior, not some monster.

But I can’t open my eyes. I can’t tell them about her.

“I’m cold.”

Her brilliant blue eyes are staring at me. The tube is gone. All that exists is her. “I’ll keep you warm.”

She rewards me with a breathtaking smile. The urge to kiss her is overwhelming. My arm snakes around her and I haul her to my chest. Our lips meet in an unrushed kiss. She tastes divine and I don’t ever want to disconnect from her.

I thread my fingers through her hair and hold her in place while I taste every inch of her mouth. So perfect. So goddamned perfect.

“I love you,” I murmur and then suck on her bottom lip. My cock lurches with excitement against her thigh.

“I love you too, War,” she whispers and lets out a tiny moan that’s my undoing. “Now make love to me.”

Pushing her to her back, I spread her thighs apart and push into her hot center.

The pleasure is overwhelming and the world goes black.

I fuck her into the nothingness of my mind, where she belongs. Where she can save me in a way only she knows how.

“Stay with me here,” I beg as the blackness blinds me.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you.”

Black and black and black.

And Baylee.

I
’M NUMB.

I’ve stared at her tombstone for a solid hour, trying to understand how this all happened. How I lost my mother when I thought I was helping her this whole time. If she died that first week, why was my father taking the money War was sending? What was Dad doing with it when he should have been looking for me and why the hell is he in San Francisco?

Brandon clears his throat from beside me, jerking me from the thoughts that are on a continuous reel in my head. “You want to grab a bite to eat? It’ll be dark soon.”

My stomach grumbles but I ignore it. Instead, I stare at the grey granite.

Lynn Marie Winston.

Beloved Wife and Mother

The angel wings engraved into the rock are gorgeous. I wonder if Dad paid for it with War’s money. Money I negotiated my body and my companionship for. Of course, once I got to know War and fell in love with him, it hardly seemed like a negotiation or prison sentence.

It was my home.

He was my home.

But still. How could Dad accept War’s money so easily but not tell me my mother had died? The realization that he never once mentioned what happened to her kills me. I want to find him so I can demand answers to all the questions inside my head.

The wind picks up and chills my flesh. My hoodie does nothing to warm the cold, emptiness in my bones. In my aching heart. In my fractured soul.

I hug my purse to my side and think about the pregnancy test inside. I’ve been dying to learn the truth about whether or not I’m carrying War’s baby. I need to know one way or another for closure. I’d also like to get ahold of Land. I want my child to have a relationship with their father’s father.

Brandon snakes an arm around me and hugs me to his side. I hadn’t realized I was shivering but his body warms me. Well, on the surface at least. He’d relaxed on the way here and was back to being the friendly, all-around good guy I was used to. It’s going to break his heart when this all blows over and I explain to him that I don’t love him—not like I love War. That we’re better as friends.

The thought of telling him this—after all he’s done for me—nauseates me. But I won’t live a lie. My heart belongs to War, whether dead or alive. I can’t get past him. I will never get past him. And if this baby exists, I’ll pour all of my love for War into it. I’ll spend the rest of my life giving that baby everything it deserves.

“Babe,” Brandon says and kisses my temple. I shudder at his affection, but hopefully he attributes it to me being cold. “We can come back tomorrow. And the day after. And every day after that if it makes you feel better. But I need to get some food in you before you blow away with the wind.”

He tries to make light of the situation and it irritates me. I stiffen in his arms and clench my jaw so I don’t say anything hurtful. Truth is, I’m angry and upset and devastated. My mother is dead, War is dead, and my father is apparently missing. Meanwhile, Brandon is acting like he wants to slip back into old roles and play house.

His hand slips to my throat and he uses his fingers to turn my jaw to face him. The gesture is firm but still gentle. Our eyes meet and I wonder if he can sense the fury emanating from mine. “Hey,” he says softly, and I relax a little. “I didn’t mean to upset you. This is a big clusterfuck and I’m trying to navigate it without a rule book. I’m sorry.”

He lowers his lips to mine, and when I attempt to jerk away from him, his fingers bite just a little into my flesh, holding me still. The desperation in his eyes chases away the light, and for a moment, I gape at his sudden change. His lips are on mine a second later. Needy and overly eager. I wait just a fraction of a moment to see if the old spark returns.

It doesn’t.

It’s just lips and tongue.

Wetness and cinnamon gum.

Nothing about his kiss consumes me—not like War’s did. The only reason he’s been awarded this kiss in the first place is because his grip is strong and I can’t easily break away. When he moans into my mouth, I freeze. I don’t want to kiss him. I want him to give me some space. Sliding my fingers into his hair, I tug until his lips break from mine.

“Brandon,” I murmur, my voice laced with annoyance.

He ignores the sting of me pulling his hair and instead, steals another kiss. His weight topples me over into the cold earth and soon he’s grinding his erection against me. The man kisses me as if he’s starved for me—as if I’m the one person who can fill some of his emptiness.

The entire action reminds me of Gabe and my heart speeds up. My palms find his chest, and I try to push him away but he’s so strong. When he grinds painfully against me again, I lose it and manage to jerk my mouth from his, turning my head sharply to the right. His mouth moves on to my neck and earlobe, hot breath tickling my flesh.

“God, how I’ve missed you, babe. Missed us. This.” He emphasizes his point by nibbling on the skin.

I see red about the same time I see a stick. It isn’t thick but it’ll do. With quick, forceful whaps I whip him on the back of the head until he rolls off and away from me. Scrambling to my knees, I point the stick at him accusingly.

“What is wrong with you, Brandon?” I demand and toss the stick into the grass. “My mind is a mess and this certainly isn’t helping.”

He has the sense to look ashamed. His darkened eyes return to the sparkly green I know and trust. Crimson heats the top of his cheeks as he runs his fingers through his messy hair. “Jesus, Baylee. I’m so sorry. I just missed you and—”

“Thought you could make out with me on my mother’s grave?” I finish for him, my voice venom-filled as I stand up. My words wound him and I’m glad. I know he’s been through a lot, but so have I.

He looks up toward the sky with a groan and then pins me with an icy glare before stalking off toward the truck. “And you don’t have to worry,” he calls out over his shoulder, “that’ll be the last time I try and comfort you again. But my feelings for you—my craving to touch you—can’t just be flipped off with the push of a button, unlike you.”

Guilt washes over me as he leaves me. Maybe I was too harsh. This has to be difficult for him too. When I left, we were hot and heavy for one another. We had plans. A future all mapped out.

But then I was sent to War.

And everything changed.

Nothing will ever go back to the way things used to be.

By the time I reach the truck, he’s squatting down beside it. When I round the vehicle to inspect what he’s looking at, my heart sinks.

“I dropped it. It’s dead now.”

The phone is shattered and the screen is black. My brows furrow as suspicion trickles through me. I used to drop my phone all of the time and never once shattered it. Sure, I cracked it a time or two, but it never shattered. He had to have thrown it when he had his angry tantrum. I want to shout at him for being a hot-headed asshole or to demand why he’d destroy our only connection to the outside world. Instead, I lift my chin and wordlessly go back to the passenger side to climb in. Casting one more glance at my mother’s final resting place, I silently make a vow to her.

I will find a way to be happy, Mom.

A way to be safe.

I will protect myself and nurture the love in my heart for War.

You don’t have to worry about your little girl anymore. I’m all grown up.

I won’t let anyone control my life but me.

The drive back to the cabin is silent and it’s driving me crazy. My mind buzzes with all sorts of questions. Everything out of his mouth seems like a lie and I want to shake the truth from him.

“Do your parents know you came to save me?” I ask and flick my gaze over to him.

He shrugs and continues to stare ahead of him. “Nope. They don’t give a shit about anything except for school and baseball. Neither of them cared about what happened to you. That’s why I left. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”

I frown and look out the window lost in my thoughts for a while. It surprises me that Brandon would move out. Where would he even go? Has he been working this entire time? I’m shocked that he would give up so much for me. When my stomach lets out a grumble, I turn back to regard him. His shoulders are rigid and tense while his hands grip the steering wheel. The muscle on his neck flexes every other second as he clenches his jaw. He’s clearly still angry about what happened at the cemetery.