Her throat rolled up and back down. “I only wish they had more time with him. He was gone a lot. The hardest part is they hardly knew him and that hurts more than anything.”
“Why was he gone?” From what Shade remembered, his father had hardly ever been around, either. He hoped to fuck it wasn’t for a similar reason. Because if it was...
“We got married after Brendan enlisted in the Army and right before he was shipped off to boot camp. Shortly after that, he was shipped overseas. We knew it was a possibility, but...” She shook her head. “Both pregnancies happened when he was home on leave. Eventually he ended up in Afghanistan as part of what was known as Operation Enduring Freedom. There’s another name for it now, not that it matters.” She shook her head. “None of it matters now.”
Maybe that part didn’t matter but the rest did.
“Anyway, I need to talk more about their father to them. But...” Her eyebrows knitted together. “We were so young when we got married. We weren’t even dating that long, but we had an instant connection. From the moment we met, he felt like my soulmate and he thought the same. But, really, how well could I know him in that short amount of time?”
“Enough to fall in love with him. Enough to marry him, Chelle, and have his babies.” He pressed a hand over her heart. “You knew in here. Sometimes you just know.”
She tilted her head, stared at him and slowly repeated, “Sometimes you just know.”
Fuck.
But before he could wrap his heavily medicated brain around that, she continued, brushing that moment off as if it was nothing. When it was a lot more than nothing. A whole lot fucking more.
“Truthfully, I’m not sure if I would have survived without Rick. He and his wife were why I moved here from Virginia. I was falling apart and I...” She inhaled an audible breath. “He stepped in as a father figure for the girls. Our daughters are more like sisters than cousins. He never complained once and I... I owe him a lot.”
Thank fuck he was there for her back then, like family should be, but this was fourteen years later. Maybe she was falling apart back then, but now she was a strong, independent woman who lived her own life. She didn’t need her brother’s opinion on who she could and couldn’t sleep with. “Thinks you’re embarrassed about bein’ with me. About acceptin’ me in your bed. In your life.”
“He said that?”
“Said you kept me a secret ‘cause you’re embarrassed.”
She frowned. “That’s not true. We both agreed to keep this between us. It had nothing to do with me being embarrassed. You know that and I told him that, too.”
She gave him a little truth, now he was about to lay some on her. “Chelle, you’re a goddamn librarian at a school and I can’t even fuckin’ read.” She opened her mouth to argue and he raised his palm to stop her. He wasn’t done. “Don’t have any kinda education. My job’s reducin’ people’s pets to ashes. A fuckin’ monkey could do that. Also live in a fuckin’ bunkhouse that’s part of a barn. I don’t own shit but my sled. Got no family ‘cept a bunch of bikers. Ain’t gonna blame you if you don’t want no one to know you’re fuckin’ me.”
“None of that matters to me, Shade. And he wouldn’t be happy with anyone I’m dating.”
“Beautiful...” He blew out a frustrated breath. “This ain’t datin’. He knows that, knows what this is. Anyway, wouldn’t even know how to date if that’s what you wanted.”
“What does that mean?”
He shrugged. “Never dated.”
“You just fuck women and move on.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement dripping with disappointment.
She might not like it, but it was fucking true. “Yeah, Chelle, I just fuck women and move on.” He didn’t know anything else. He’d never wanted to know anything else.
Not until now.
Her fingers flexed in his. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“You told me you were mine until I’m tired of you. What if I never get tired of you?”
Eventually she was going to get tired of the secrets, the shit he couldn’t tell her, his nightmares, his lies. All of it. That was a fact. “Like that you think that, Chelle, but...”
“Unless you get tired of me first. I’m so much older than you.”
“Eleven years ain’t nothin’, beautiful.”
“Eleven years is something, Shade.”
“Not to me.”
“You say that now...”
He’d say that forever. But he didn’t know about forever. Or even if forever was possible. He didn’t want to promise her something he might not be able to deliver. So, he kept that to himself.
He didn’t want to be responsible for the type of pain she still felt fourteen years later after losing her husband because she loved that deeply.