Carla Cassidy – The Coltons: Fisher, Ryder & Quinn: Soldier's Secret Child (страница 16)
To her surprise, T.J. grinned and nodded. “He does.”
Fisher motioned to the exit. “I brought your car from town. I’ll go get it and drive you home.”
The accident had rattled her nerves and having Fisher drive them would be a welcome respite. Concern remained about why someone would try to hurt T.J. and why he would cover up the fact that he might know who was responsible. As she and T.J. followed Fisher out of the hospital, she realized that she needed to tell someone about what was up with T.J. Needed to confide in someone who could help her deal with the problem.
As she watched Fisher pull up to the curb and saw how carefully he handled getting a sore T.J. into the car, she realized that Fisher might just be the someone she needed.
At seventeen, T.J. wouldn’t have normally needed her to get him settled in bed, but he was aching enough now to require her assistance. She helped him take off his jeans. Managed to control her reaction at the sight of the large bruise which had already formed along his hip and thigh in addition to the smaller purpling marks along his other leg and ribs.
“Get some rest,” she urged as she tucked him beneath the covers.
He nodded and closed his eyes, obviously drained by the events of the day.
She walked into the hall and left his door open, wanting to be able to hear him if he needed anything. She began to walk down the stairs, but paused a few steps down, peering through the open doorway of his room just to check on him again.
He seemed to be asleep already.
She breathed a sigh of relief that his injuries had been so minimal and finished her walk down the stairs. At the landing, she proceeded a few more steps and then turned into the kitchen.
Fisher stood at the counter by the coffee machine, pouring water into it. He slipped in a filter and then the coffee. Hit the button to get it going.
His actions were so domestic that it seemed incongruous until she remembered how often she had seen Jericho do the same thing both in her home and his. They had grown up in a household full of men and such routine activities would likely be almost second nature to them.
She allowed herself the pleasure of watching him finish up the task, his movements sure and totally comfortable. Totally masculine. When he finished, he turned and realized she was standing there.
Fisher leaned back against the counter while he examined Macy. She appeared in control and he admired her strength in the midst of yet another crisis. Her strength being one of the things that had always attracted him.
“How’s he doing?”
“Tired and sore. He’s already fast asleep,” she said and went to the small island in the middle of the kitchen, bent and retrieved two mugs and a sugar bowl which she placed on top of the island counter.
“And you?” he asked, raising one brow to emphasize the question.
She braced her hands on the edge of the counter, suddenly uneasy it seemed to him. She took a deep breath, held it before releasing it in a rush. Then she met his gaze directly and said, “I need your help.”
“Just what kind of help?” he asked and from the corner of his eye he noticed that the pot of coffee was almost done. He took it from the machine, walked over and poured them both a cup of coffee.
She picked up the mug, her hands slightly shaky. She blew on the coffee and took a sip before placing the mug down. Bracing her hands on the counter once again, she looked away and said, “I think T.J. knows who was driving the car that hit him, but he’s not admitting it. Normally I would have asked Jericho—”
“I’m not standing in for my brother, Macy. I’m not Jericho.”
Her head whipped up and she nailed him with her gaze. “You’re right that you’re nothing like your brother. But you can’t refuse to help.”
He snorted and shifted his brow ever higher. “Really? Please tell me why I can’t refuse.”
No sign of emotion or distress marked her face as she said, “Because T.J. is your son.”
Sucker-punched.
That was the only way to describe how he was feeling.
She had sucker-punched him years ago with her first kiss and then again the night they’d made love.
Now she had done it again.
“Excuse me?” He came round the corner of the island until he stood directly beside her. She had looked away immediately after her pronouncement. Now he grasped her arms and applied gentle pressure to turn her in his direction. Placing his thumb and forefinger beneath her chin, he angled her face upward so that she couldn’t continue to avoid him.
“T.J. is my son? My flesh and blood?” His tone was deliberately calm, displaying nothing of the maelstrom of emotions churning through his gut.
“The one night that you and I—”
“We used protection,” he reminded her and she nodded, bit her lower lip as he had seen her do so often when she was upset.
“We did, but it must not have worked. I found out I was pregnant right before I was supposed to marry Tim—”
“And you didn’t tell him?” he said and ripped away from her, pacing across the room with a ground-eating stride or two before facing her once again.
Her brown eyes sparkled with indignation at his attack. “I could never mislead someone like that,” she said, but then pulled back, obviously acknowledging that she had misled him. That he had a right to be angry and he definitely was angry. Probably more furious than he’d ever been before—except possibly on the day that he had learned Macy had decided to marry Tim.
Sucking in a rough breath, he walked back toward her, but stopped when he was about a step away. He didn’t trust himself to get any closer at that moment. Fisting his hands tightly, he kept them at his sides, struggling for control.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugged and looked down once again before lifting her face. Her eyes glimmered with tears as she said, “Jericho was going on and on about how happy you were to join the Army. How you were looking forward to seeing the world and leaving Esperanza behind.”
“And you assumed—”
“I didn’t want to stop you and…you never called me again and Tim…He was a good man. I knew he would be a good father.” A tear finally leaked out and trailed down her face, but she did nothing to swipe it away.
Nor did he. Instead, he took the final step to bring him close and leaned down until they were nearly nose-to-nose. “
“I know you are. You’re a real hero. One who’s made a difference to so many other people. Saved lives. That wouldn’t have happened if you had stayed here…with me,” she said and reached up, cradled the side of his face.
Her tender touch nearly undid him, but he couldn’t leave it at that. “Did you love me? When you walked down the aisle—”
“I loved Tim with all my heart.”
He had thought he was over the pain of losing her to another man, but the ache deep in the center of him told him otherwise. Her words were creating as much hurt now as her actions had eighteen years earlier.
But he couldn’t retaliate and wound her, even if he was in agony with her admission.
He also couldn’t let her continue to hide behind her love for Saint Tim.
Cradling her cheeks with both hands, he finally wiped away the trail of tears on her face with his thumb. Stroked the soft skin of her cheek and bent that final inch so that his lips were close to hers. He whispered, “You wanted me then and you want me now.”
Then he kissed her like there was no tomorrow because he knew there might not be. As honor-bound as he felt to help Macy now that he knew T.J. was his son, he was also sure that he was not cut out for family or civilian life.
There was just too much uncertainty unlike the orderly military life that had worked so well for him, he told himself even as he kept on kissing Macy. Opening his mouth against hers over and over until it wasn’t enough and he finally slipped his tongue within to taste the sweetness of her breath.
She responded to him willingly, going up on tiptoe to continue the kiss. Pressing against him until he needed more. He slipped his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her until her backside was on the edge of the counter and her legs were straddling him.
Macy shivered as the hard jut of his erection brushed the center of her, awakening a rush of desire that dragged a moan from her.
The sound penetrated the fog of want that had wrapped itself around them, tempering their kisses. Creating a short lull during which she managed to murmur a soft, “I’m sorry. I should have told you about T.J.”
The reminder of her deception stilled his actions and he lifted his lips from hers, but remained close, his hands tangled in her hair. His body intimately pressed against her.
“Macy, I wish that things could be different, only—”
“Ma, I’m hungry,” they heard loud and clear from T.J.’s bedroom upstairs.
The typical teen moment shattered the emotional angst and lust that had overtaken them.
Fisher released a rough sigh and stepped away while she called up to her son, “I’ll be up with something in a minute.”
She slipped off the counter and gestured to the oak kitchen table. “Will you stay for lunch?”
He nodded, but quickly added, “Let me help you with it.”