Then he ended it.
“Buck?” I called.
“Right here, Toots,” he answered, and he was.
We were no longer kissing, but we were still plastered together, and his face wasn’t even an inch away.
“Consider it erased.”
His head ticked.
His eyes flared.
Then we were making out again.
This time, it lasted longer before he ended it.
He let me go but took my hand.
We walked up the stairs.
I got my purse, invited Tia and Damian to enchiladas (Rayne declined, not surprisingly), we walked back out…
And I got on the back of Buck’s bike.
29
Never Easy
I saw the car coming up the drive after Buck was done with me, he’d passed out, I’d passed out, but I’d had some sleep, he had not.
So he was still passed out, and I was in the kitchen, making a sandwich.
I didn’t know whose car that was, I just knew it was fancy.
And seeing a fancy car, I got worried and sifted through my mental database in an attempt to decipher if I held the knowledge as to what the statute of limitations was on assault.
I did not hold this knowledge.
That said, I suspected it was longer than a few weeks.
So this could mean Buck and Gear were not in the clear with those ASU boys.
Or more to the point, their angry parents.
Girding for battle, even if I only was wearing a pair of panties and Buck’s tee, and since I couldn’t risk going back to the bedroom to dress because that might wake Buck, I headed to the door.
And even if it was a little chilly outside, I stood out on the deck in front of the door and glared angrily at the man getting out of his fancy car.
The good news, evidence was suggesting that Buck and Gear were still in the clear.
The bad news, Nolan Armitage, Rogan’s attorney, was back.
“I’m uncertain how to make myself any clearer, Nolan,” I called as he made his way to me. “However, I do know I had witnesses to your last visit, which was unwelcome, so now we may be bordering on harassment.”
He stopped at the foot of the steps and declared, “Rogan’s dying.”
“You told me that before.”
“Yes, and when I did, Rogan was dying. Now, they’re making him as comfortable as they can, waiting for him to die.”
It came out of nowhere.
I didn’t expect it.
Not after what I went through. Not after what Rogan had put me through. Not after what came next for me and for Tia.
But even so, it came.
Pain.
“He wants to see you, Clara,” Nolan declared.
I hadn’t noticed, my mind had shifted to what I was feeling, but when I refocused, I saw he was speaking to me, but he was looking behind me.
I sensed why even before Buck said, “Tell us where and I’ll get her there.”
“You should go today,” Nolan advised.
Today.
We should go today.
Oh God.
Rogan was dying.
Nolan moved up the steps, reaching into the breast pocket of his suit. I saw Buck’s arm come out and take the slip of paper Nolan offered him.
Nolan stepped immediately back as if being in close proximity to me might mean he’d catch something nasty. He then turned and walked down the steps.
But he turned back and looked up at me.
“He won’t tell you this, but you should know, the stealing began when he got his diagnosis and the prognosis was what’s happening right now.”
I didn’t move, didn’t speak.
“He had to make sure you were covered,” Nolan stated. “He had to know, when he was gone, you never had to worry about anything.”
My husband had to embezzle forty million dollars to make certain I never had anything to worry about?
“This isn’t on her,” Buck said, low and angry. “Quit fuckin’ with her head because it isn’t on her.”
“It’s partly on her, weak women who lean too much on men,” Nolan retorted.
Buck made a growly noise.
I jerked out of the vacuum I’d fallen into at the understanding the first man I’d ever loved was imminently dying and came back to the conversation.
“I have a master’s degree and worked at a world-renowned research library,” I reminded him.
“Which would not put you in a five-thousand-square-foot, six-million-dollar home in Arcadia,” Nolan shot back.
I studied him.
Closely.
What I saw was bitter.
Planted in him by someone else.
Now aimed at me.
“You know,” I said softly, “I don’t know what women you’ve had in your life, but they are not me.”
His face went hard.
Yes.
Bitter.
“I loved my husband,” I told him. “I did not need the house in Arcadia. And I survived a number of things since I was seven years old. Sure, none of that was as bad as what Rogan left me with after what he did, though some of it was close. Nevertheless, I would have survived with him gone. What would have been the struggle that would have stuck with me until the day I left this Earth, was watching the husband I loved die of cancer.”