Always My Own (Always Love Trilogy #2) Read online

  “Trent.” Mason came around the bar. “I heard you were back in town, but I haven’t seen you around.”

  “Been busy.” I jammed my hands in my pockets, but to my surprise, after the barest hesitation, Mason extended his hand. I shook it, absurdly grateful for the gesture.

  Next to us, Rilla sighed.

  “Yeah, I bet.” Mason stood with his hands on his hips. “So . . . Elizabeth is over here. In this booth. She kind of passed out, and we thought that would be the safest place for her.

  “Thanks.” I swallowed hard. I wanted to run over and scoop her up, hold her against me again. And then again, I was afraid if I did, I might not ever let her go.

  “So . . . wife, huh?” Mason quirked an eyebrow at me. “There’s a story there, I guess.”

  There was, but it wasn’t one I was going to share here tonight, with Rilla watching me, her eyes narrowed. I just nodded. “Sorry if she caused you any problems tonight. She’s not like this. I’ve never seen her drink more than a glass or two of wine.” They both regarded me silently, clearly expecting more of an explanation. “We, um, had a misunderstanding, and I didn’t know she was coming to Burton.”

  “Yeah. She didn’t actually mention you until right before she went under, or I probably would’ve called you sooner. She said she was just moving to town.”

  I didn’t respond, but surprise made my stomach clench. Moving to Burton? That was news to me. But then again, just about anything having to do with Elizabeth would be news to me at this point.

  Rilla slid to her feet. “She seems like a nice girl. I hope . . .” She glanced over in the direction of the darkened dance floor. “I hope things work out for you two.”

  Tension twisted my gut. I didn’t want this chick’s pity, not when she hardly knew me and probably had an opinion of me colored by her family. I gritted my back teeth together. “Thanks. I’ll just get Elizabeth. We’ll be out of your way.”

  I could see her feet hanging off the seat nearest the bar area, but the rest of her body was shrouded in the dark. I made my way to her, my heartbeat stuttering a little when I saw her face.

  She lay on her side, with one hand tucked under her cheek, just as she always had done when she slept with me. Messy blonde curls tumbled over her shoulder and onto the smooth vinyl of the booth. Her eyes were shut tight, but her lips were slightly parted, as though she were waiting for me to kiss them.

  I remembered the first time I’d done just that, standing on a chilly beach in Florida. I’d never forget the surprise in her eyes as they went soft, and the way her mouth had felt beneath mine.

  “Her car is outside.” Mason spoke quietly behind me, and I shot him a glance. “I went to check before I called you. She gave us the keys earlier.” He dangled them in front of me. “It should be fine in our lot for tonight. If you want to bring her over tomorrow morning . . .”

  I shoved the keys into my pocket and raked one hand through my hair. “I got work first thing. Okay if we leave it ‘til about five or so?”

  Mason lifted one large shoulder. “Sure. If she wants it before that—it looks like she’s got all her crap in it, it’s completely stuffed—tell her to give me a call, and I’ll be happy to drive her out here.”

  “Got it.” I bent to lift her beneath the arms, and Mason moved the table away to give me some room. Elizabeth was dead weight, her head lolling back over the crook of my elbow as I held her. I couldn’t resist breathing in her scent, one quick fix after weeks of denial: she smelled like sunshine, honeydew and . . . whiskey. Yup, that was definitely whiskey.

  I moved toward the door, but before I could leave, Rilla darted over to me, holding a jacket and a brown leather handbag I recognized. She laid it carefully on Elizabeth’s middle, whispering to me, “The purse is zipped up, so you shouldn’t have to worry about it spilling out.”

  “Thank you.” I kept my voice low, too, although I had a hunch we could’ve screamed at the top of our lungs and not disturbed the woman in my arms. I started for the exit again, and Mason held open the door, giving me a thoughtful nod as I passed him into the chill of the night. Rilla came out with us, and I was grateful when she opened the passenger door of the truck.

  “Good luck, Trent. I’ll see you around.” Rubbing her hands over her upper arms, she ran back up the steps to her husband.

  I eased Elizabeth into the seat, leaning over her to fasten the seatbelt. I tugged it tight; the door on this side wasn’t exactly the most dependable, and I didn’t want her flying out.

  “Trent? Is that you?” Her voice was soft and only a tiny bit slurred. My heart stuttered a little.

  “It’s me, baby. I got you.” I tested the seatbelt one last time before I straightened.

  “I dreamed you went away. I didn’t know where you were.” Her eyes fluttered, the lids heavy with the effort to stay open.

  “I’m right here.” I gave in to temptation and touched her soft cheek, still warm from sleep. “Just sit tight, okay? I’m taking you home.”

  “Mmmmm.” She laid her head against the seat back again. I stepped away to close the door, and then had another thought.

  “Elizabeth, if you feel like you’re going to puke, tell me, okay, baby? So I can pull over?” The last thing I needed was that smell in my truck.

  “Not gonna puke. Just so damn tired.” She sighed, her head rolling again, and I knew she’d faded away again. Probably better that way, I decided. Neither of us was up to a long talk tonight about why we’d found each other in Burton.

  She slept all the way back to the apartment. I focused on the road, only letting myself glance over at her at stop signs. I was afraid if I looked at her too much, I’d never be able to tear my eyes away.

  We pulled up in front of the apartment, and I shut off the truck. Turning in my seat, I waited to see if Elizabeth would wake up. But she didn’t stir. Her face was peaceful, and her breathing was even. I sat in the chilly silence for a few minutes, thinking that if I could just keep things like this, I wouldn’t mind too much. If we could hold the world at bay, we’d probably be all right. As long as we’d stayed in our own little bubble of existence, we’d been happy and in love. It was the intrusion of real life and other people that’d screwed us up.

  Elizabeth shivered, her lips pressing together and a small line forming between her eyebrows as she frowned in her sleep. It was getting colder, I realized, and she wasn’t wearing her coat, which I had tossed onto the seat between us. Staying outside wasn’t a realistic option. It was time to face the music.

  I got out of the truck and closed the door behind me as carefully as I could. On the passenger side, I unlatched Elizabeth’s seatbelt and slid my arms beneath her knees and behind her back, drawing her against my body again. She clung, her arms snaking around my neck and her face burrowing in my shoulder. I stepped back and kicked the door shut before making my way up the cement steps to the door of the apartment.

  I hadn’t locked the front door, since this was Burton, and no one in town ever turned a lock. I slipped inside, letting my eyes get used to the dark of the small living room while I figured out what to do next.

  “Where are we?” Elizabeth’s lips moved against the skin of my neck, and a shot of red-hot want rocketed straight to my dick. Great. All I needed was for her to feel my hard-on and freak out.

  “Home.” I kept my voice low, dropping my head closer to hers so she could hear me better. “Shhh. I’m just going to get you settled in bed—”

  “Home where?” She was still a little fuzzy, I could tell, but her blinking eyes were starting to look clearer, which likely meant any moment she’d remember who I was and what I’d done. And then the shit would hit the fan.

  “My—the apartment.” I was careful about the semantics, because she’d have a pretty solid case against the idea that I had any rights to this place. “Just sleep for now, and we’ll talk in the morning. It’s really late.”

  Her eyelids fell again, as though they were too heavy to hold open. “I . . .”r />
  “Trent? What’re you doing out here?” The hall light clicked on, flooding the living room with brightness. My mother stood in the doorway of her bedroom, wearing the perpetual frown I’d gotten used to seeing. Her long hair hung limp over her bony shoulders, and her eyes were narrow as she stared at me.

  “Go back to bed. Everything’s fine.” I hoped my tone told her I wasn’t going to take any nonsense, not right now. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  “Why’re you carrying that girl? What’s wrong with her? What did you do?”

  Of course it always came down to me doing something wrong, which was ironic as fuck seeing as I wasn’t the one who’d been picked up for solicitation a month ago. And I wasn’t the one who’d been in and out of jail and rehab for over twenty years.

  “I didn’t do anything. She’s fine, just . . . tired. I’ll explain tomorrow. Go to bed.”

  But because listening to me and respecting my needs was something utterly foreign to my mom, she stalked into the living room, craning her neck to get a good look at Elizabeth.

  “You all right there, lady? He didn’t hurt you, did he? Can you hear me?”

  Elizabeth opened her eyes again, confusion warring with apprehension. “Hurt me? No . . .” She wriggled against me, and I loosened my arms, letting her slide to her feet, though she kept her weight against me, and I knew if I moved, she’d probably collapse. “I’m okay. Who’re you?”

  My mother straightened up, her mouth twisting into an ugly scowl. “I’m this guy’s mother, if it’s any of your damned business. The better question is, who the hell are you?”

  “Elizabeth.” She answered as though it were a question in school. “I’m this guy’s wife.”

  If we were living in a cartoon world, my mom’s eyes would’ve bugged out of her head along with an ah—OOO—gah sound effect. Her mouth was a perfect round O, but for once, nothing came out of it.

  I swallowed a long sigh. “Like I said, we’re not dealing with this tonight. I’m getting her to bed, and then I’ll tell you everything in the morning.” Yeah, not likely. I’d give her just the bare minimum to get her off my back.

  “Ooooh, boy. I can’t believe this.” She started to laugh, and the sound was as ugly as the rest of her. “You went and got yourself married, and you picked a drunk just like your dear old ma, didn’t you?” She wrapped her arms around her stomach and gasped. “That’s just perfect.”

  “She’s nothing like you.” The fierceness in my voice sobered her up fast. “Now get the hell into your bedroom, or I swear to God, I’ll throw you out. I’ll do it tonight, and I’m telling you, it’s fucking cold out there. Get back into bed and thank Jesus you’ve got one.”

  Her gaze flicked between my face and Elizabeth’s, but in the end, she didn’t say anything. Turning on her heel, she stomped down the hall and slammed the door shut behind her.

  “That’s your mother?” Elizabeth swayed a little. “Wow. She’s . . . ummm . . . pretty much exactly how I imagined her. Why the hell’s she here?”

  My chest tightened. “That’s something we can talk about tomorrow. For now, you need to go to bed.” I gripped her shoulders and steered her toward the hallway. “My bedroom’s down here. You can have the bed, and I’ll sleep out on the couch.”

  She twisted around to look up at me. “You don’t have to do that. We’re married, remember?”

  As if I could forget that. “I know, but . . . just trust me. I have to get up early for work, and you’re not going to feel so great in the morning. You’ll thank me after you’ve gotten some sleep.”

  She frowned but allowed me to nudge her along until we reached my door. I leaned around her to open it and guided her toward the bed.

  “I don’t have my bag with my pajamas.” She stood next to the bed, hugging her arms around her ribs, looking like a forlorn little girl. I wanted to scoop her back into my arms and just cuddle her close, keep her safe and give her comfort. But I knew danger lay down that road. Instead I folded my arms over my chest—mostly to keep from touching her.

  “Yeah, I know.” I jerked my chin toward the cheap composite wood dresser along the wall. “I’ve got some T-shirts in there if you want to wear one of them, or you can just . . . undress. Whatever.” I had a sudden and vivid mental image of Elizabeth peeling off her clothes and climbing naked into my bed. Yeah, I had to get out of there and fast. “If you need anything, I’ll be on the couch. Bathroom’s at the end of the hall. There’s a clean towel under the sink.” I was ridiculously glad I’d done laundry right after work, the only reason that the towel—which was mine—was clean.

  “Okay.” She dropped down to sit on the bed, kicked off her shoes and then, with a deep sigh, fell onto the pillow, curling her legs up.

  For a moment, I just watched her, waiting to see if she would say anything else or need me for anything. When I heard the first soft snore, I took one step forward, lifting up the sheet and thin blanket and draping them over her slight body. Smoothing the covers over her shoulder, I gave myself permission to breathe in her scent, that intoxicating mix of lilac and roses I’d been missing since the night I’d left. And since I was down there anyway, leaning over her, I took the extra five inches and brushed my lips over her cheek.

  “’Night, Elizabeth. Sleep well.”

  PAIN. PAIN. PAIN.

  My head pounded. I was pretty sure something inside was trying to claw its way out, and I probably couldn’t feel any worse. And then I shifted a little on the bed, and a wave of nausea rolled over me.

  Yeah, turned out I was wrong. I could feel worse. I groped for my comforter, to pull it up over my eyes, but instead of downy fluffiness, I found only an unfamiliar blanket. I managed to pry one eye open and focus on the room.

  It wasn’t my bedroom in the Cove. Instead, it was smaller, and the walls were painted a bland off-white. The floors were hardwood, but they didn’t gleam like my mother’s did. A scuffed old dresser was pushed against the wall between two small windows. Other than that and the bed, the room was empty. It felt temporary and impersonal.

  Memories of the night before began to come back to me. The Road Block . . . several glasses of wine . . . music, dancing and then a very unsettling image of Trent, coming to take me home.

  “God.” I turned my face into the flat pillow and breathed in. Immediately I was immersed in pure Trent, a mix of the soap he used and something else that reminded me of pine trees and cool breezes. I had a quick flash of him carrying me, holding me tightly against his body . . . and had I imagined that he’d brushed a kiss over my cheek? No, that must’ve been a dream. I didn’t have the foggiest idea why Trent was here in Burton, when he’d told me he’d live in hell before he came back to this town. But no matter what, I had to be steely strong and remember that he wasn’t the man I’d thought he was. He’d left me without so much as a backward glance, and that was something I couldn’t afford to forget.

  But I did have to figure out what the hell was going on and locate my car, which at the moment held all my worldly possessions, including a change of clothes which I needed pretty badly. I pushed to sit up, pausing long enough to let the room stop spinning. Taking several deep, cleansing breaths—just like they’d taught us in yoga class—I stood, bracing one hand on the wall.

  “Okay then.” I gritted my teeth and looked around the floor for my shoes. I found one at the foot of the bed and risked kneeling down to look underneath for the other one. After giving my head a minute to get over the dizzy, I rose to my feet again and slid them into my shoes. Time to face the music.

  The first thing I realized when I stepped out into the narrow hallway was that it was much earlier than I’d thought. The light seeping in from the small living room windows was weak and cast a gray glow. I slid along the wall, tentative, unsure of who I might see.

  “Good morning.”

  I hadn’t spotted Trent standing in the corner of the living room near the front door, one foot propped on the seat of a wooden chair as he tied t
he laces on a formidable work boot. His long legs were encased in worn jeans that I recognized, and a fitted blue T-shirt rode up a little on his back, revealing a strip of skin that was still tanned from the summer. I remembered what the skin felt like beneath my fingertips, and suddenly they were itching to touch it. My mouth went dry.

  “Bet you’re feeling kind of rough.” He finished the laces and dropped his foot to the floor. His blue eyes assessed me, though his face stayed carefully neutral.

  “My head hurts.” I meant it to sound as though it wasn’t a big deal, but my throat was still rough, and instead the words came out scratchy and almost bleating.

  “Yeah, I guess it does.” Trent hooked his thumbs in the front belt loops of his jeans. He glanced over my shoulder, and when I turned my head, I saw an old wall clock. “Listen, I have to get to work. But—”

  “Work?” I sounded inane, but in my defense, when we’d been together in Crystal Cove, he hadn’t yet decided what he was going to do next career-wise. I was mystified about what kind of job he might have here in Burton.

  “Yeah. At Grainger’s Feed.” He gave his head a little shake, as though reminding himself of something. “Not that it means much to you, since you’ve never been in this town before. But anyway, that’s where I work. And I got to go. I can’t be late. But when I get home, we’ll . . . talk.” He sounded grim.

  “Okay.” The single word was all I could manage.

  “Your car is still out at the Road Block.”

  I blanched, the memory of that place suddenly quite clear. “Shit.” I pressed both hands to either side of my throbbing head. “I can’t believe I got drunk on my first night in a new town. A town where I just bought into a law firm and plan to be a respectable member of the community.” Saying it aloud made my eyes burn.

  Trent’s eye twitched, but he went on speaking as though I hadn’t. “I’ll run you out there after I get home from work, so you can pick it up.”

  Panic bubbled in my chest. “But all my stuff is in the car. My clothes and everything. I don’t have anything else to wear.” I pulled my shirt away from my stomach.