Light in Mourning m-2 Read online

  “Hey, what’s up?” I took her in. Briana, I think it was. Tight jeans, heels, bright red sweater that covered her sizable tits, but still managed to be indecent.

  “You been here long?” she murmured in my ear as her hand smoothed down the front of my jeans and brushed against my cock. For a split second, I thought about taking her home. My body and mind raged. I wanted to fuck Georgia out of my system. Sink balls-deep into this girl and fuck away the pain. But the thought of being with anyone other than Georgia had my stomach twisting painfully.

  “Few weeks,” I said before removing her hand from my junk.

  “Let’s get together. You still have my number, right?” She caressed my arm suggestively.

  “Yeah, I have it.” That was a lie. I’d cleared all numbers out of my phone that weren’t Georgia’s one night on the boat when I was drunk and bitter. “I’ll call you.” I turned back to the cart, trying to blow her off.

  “Are you busy tonight? I have plans, but I could be persuaded into canceling them.” She brushed her tits against my arm. My dick was still stirring to life. He was all in. My fucking head wasn’t, though. I was getting pissed. I was so sick of girls that refused to take a hint.

  “Got things to do. Sorry.” I pushed the cart down the aisle and headed for the liquor. Tonight was going to be a scotch kind of night.

  “Maybe tomorrow, then?” She trailed after me.

  “Maybe. I’ll call you.” I continued to walk.

  “Okay, Tristan. Good to see you.” She cupped my ass and her fingers wrapped around to my balls from behind. I sucked in a quick breath as all the blood rushed to my dick. My head refused to think straight.

  Fuck.

  I ground my teeth together.

  All I wanted was Georgia.

  Could I fuck someone else? Did I want to? I’d tried that all summer and it hadn’t worked for shit. Except now, Georgia wasn’t here to pull me back in. I wouldn’t have to wake up the next morning, the smell of sweaty sex on me from some other chick, and look into her pained eyes. My dick pounded in my jeans as I scrubbed my palm over my face.

  “See you later,” I grumbled, pushing the cart with a little more force than necessary. I bee-lined for the scotch, grabbed the most expensive bottle they had, and then hit the checkout lane.

  Close fucking call. It was a good thing I didn’t have the girl's number because it was possible I’d be tempted to cave some night when I was drunk and angry as fuck with Georgia. Thankfully, at this moment, I’d had the foresight to see I’d only wake up with a sick sense of regret in the morning. I headed back out to my truck and prayed I wouldn’t run into her again.

  3

  That week, I finally got back into my routine. I felt semi-settled—my couch, my chair, my TV—I felt like I was getting back to a new normal. I'd hired a contractor to come in and fix up the place, including a new roof. The quaint three-bedroom was small, but I could see the potential. The wide-open space of the kitchen, living, and dining areas made it feel more spacious, and the wraparound deck off the back looked out over the ocean.

  Every morning, I woke up just as dawn hit the horizon and went for my morning run with Charlie. He was old, so he dragged ass, but it was good for him to get some exercise. If I let him, he’d lie like a pile of bones on the leather couch all day. He always took his time getting out of the house in the morning, but after a few minutes, we hit a rhythm and he trailed behind me happily.

  Despite the fact that we were into late fall and I’d been at the cottage for more than a month now, the days could still have a humid stickiness to them. On those mornings, Charlie and I ran the first half of our morning jog and walked the way back. The dog was odd and had a favorite stick that he kept outside the front door. He chewed on it for a few weeks until it was down to nothing before he’d find another. So it was that morning he’d chosen a new stick and I was tossing it down the beach for him. We were on the way back from our run and he was galloping into the waves, trying to bite at them with his teeth, before I threw the stick and he paddled out to get it. He came bounding back to me, dropped the stick at my feet, and gave a shake every single fucking time. Wet dog stink in the morning. Nothing better. I grinned and gave his ears a scratch before throwing the stick back into the water for him. We walked down the beach until my dock and Georgia’s beach house came into view. I bit my bottom lip painfully, trying to redirect the pain that sliced into my gut at the sight of her house. I saw the little sand dune where we’d sat and read Tristan and Iseult.

  Charlie came bounding up to me, dropped the stick, did his shake, and the cool water hitting me brought me out of my thoughts.

  “Hey, old man, still got it, don’t ya?” I gave him a pat and tossed the stick again, my thoughts returning instantly to Georgia. It’d been over a week since I’d run into Briana at the store and I was thankful I’d turned her down. I was also thankful that I didn’t have her number, because I’d gotten so pissed drunk later that night on scotch I probably would have fucked anything on two legs if given the opportunity. In hindsight, scotch had been a bad choice. I was also thankful she didn’t know where I lived; I had no doubt she’d be tapping on my door all hours of the night, looking for a fuck if she did. Another Sophie all over again. Christ, was my radar off? Why was I landing in bed with the psycho ones lately?

  “Come on, Charlie. Let’s head in.” I patted my leg and the old dog wagged his tail and then led the way up the dock to the porch of the cottage. I felt a twisting in my stomach, just like I always did when I passed the spot where Georgia and I had had sex for the first time. I kept walking and tried not to go down that road all over again.

  The following Saturday afternoon, Charlie and I pulled into the marina, ending what might be our last day on the boat for the season. I locked up the boat before making arrangements with the marina to put it up for the winter. Charlie leaped up into the front seat of the Jeep and I started to make my way back to the cottage before I remembered Charlie needed dog food. I turned the car around and headed for the small pet store in town.

  “No humping this time.” I pointed a finger at him as we pulled into the parking lot. His tail wagged back and forth as he looked up at me with big, round eyes. “Don’t do it, old man. I know you still got it, but you don’t have to prove it to every pretty little thing on four legs.” He gave a short bark and I smiled. “Come on.” I ruffled his ears and then moved aside so he could jump out the driver's side door. I belatedly realized I hadn’t put his leash on him, but he was pretty good at sticking by my side and the parking lot was nearly empty this late in the off-season anyway.

  Charlie trotted around some cars and out of sight. I rolled my eyes and followed him around the back end of a car.

  “Charlie!” I rounded the bumper. “Charlie, come on.” I slapped my thigh to get his attention.

  “Tristan,” a soft voice carried on the wind. I lifted my eyes from his wagging tail and saw a dark mane of chestnut hair cascading around his big dog head and gorgeous brown eyes that had been keeping me awake at night peering back at me.

  “Georgia?” Was I seeing things? Was she really here, stooped over in a parking lot, petting my dog? The girl who’d consumed my thoughts the past three fucking months. Had I wished her into existence? Was I going insane? “What are you doing here?” I asked, my mind a whirlwind of emotion—confusion, anger, and pain the most prominent three.

  “I came back,” was her simple answer. What did she mean she came back? Was she here to stay? Was there a problem? Had Kyle done something to her and she was running? I knew I didn’t trust the guy the moment I’d laid eyes on him. The way he acted around her—as if he owned her, talked down to her—made my stomach crawl.

  “To the beach house? When?” I squatted and patted Charlie as I spoke.

  “Beginning of November.”

  My mind computed the time.

  Over a month?

  She’d been right under my nose for over a month and I hadn’t noticed?

  I
searched my memory for a sign she’d been at the beach house, something I'd missed, but I found none. Maybe I hadn't been paying attention. Maybe I'd been walking around in a drunken stupor too much of the time to see the girl I wanted so desperately right next door.

  Anger boiled in my stomach.

  She'd left me.

  She'd lied and said she'd be back, then she hadn't even picked up her phone. I was so bitter, so angry that this girl who'd consumed me all fucking summer was back. I wanted to hold onto the anger—she'd proven why I'd hit the road at any sign of commitment in the past; women had the ability to suck you in, like a siren call, and then walk away without another glance back. I'd learned that lesson the instant my mom had left and my dad had spiraled into his dark place.

  What pissed me off even more than seeing her standing in front of me, looking so beautiful and serene, was a sliver of hope in my heart that we could be us again. I wanted her but I didn't want to want her. I wanted to hold onto the anger and pain and blame her, because being numb was easier than opening up.

  “You’ve been here for more than a month?” I asked numbly.

  “Yeah. I’ve been fixing up the place for winter.”

  “You’re staying? Permanently? What about Kyle? Is he here?” I took a quick glance around the parking lot. I was as good as gone if he was here. I was sure I’d sock him in the jaw if I ever saw his face again, just for the mere fact that she’d chosen him, been sharing his bed since August.

  “I’m staying, hopefully forever. I don’t think anything could pull me away from here, not anymore. And Kyle isn’t with me.” She frowned before she finished. “We’re, not really . . . together.”

  What? Suddenly rage boiled inside me. Why hadn’t she called me? I’d come to terms that she’d chosen Kyle in August, but she was back; she’d left him. So why hadn’t she called?

  Because she doesn’t want you. Just because she finally walked away from him, doesn’t mean she’s choosing you. What could you give her? Heartache? A tainted past? She deserves so much better.

  She did. I knew it.

  I stayed silent as the pain radiated through my body.

  “What about you? Why are you here? And whose dog is this? Oh God, are you with Briana or Kelsey or whoever?” I watched her eyes take in the parking lot, looking for someone.

  “The slut parade?” An amused smile lit my lips at the term she’d coined this summer. “No, I haven’t seen them since I’ve been back.” That was a lie, but only a white one. I wished I’d never seen Briana that night in the grocery store, and it hadn’t led anywhere anyway, so no point in letting Georgia’s mind travel that path.

  I straightened my legs and watched her stand across from me. My eyes took in her face like I was starved for her beauty, because I was.

  Completely.

  I'd gone without her for nearly three months. Three months without a single word.

  I wanted to take her in, soak her up, and take a piece of her with me when I left because I knew just because she was here, and I was here, didn’t mean she would choose me. But if there was one thing I wanted her to know it was this: I would fucking choose her. I would always choose her.

  “How long have you been back?” Her dark chocolate eyes swirled with emotion.

  “I never really left, I guess.” I couldn’t tear my eyes from hers.

  “What? Since the hurricane?” Confusion flashed across her face. Shit, I knew how this made me look. Like a pathetic stalker. Well, too bad, because I was. I came back because I couldn’t leave. There, I’d admitted it. I’d come because if I couldn’t be with her, I wanted to be in the place we’d been together.

  “Well, I went back to Jacksonville and when the hurricane cleared out a few days later, Gavin drove me back to get the boat. But when I got here, I couldn’t leave again.” I couldn’t leave because of you, Georgia. Are you getting that? “I stayed on my boat for a while until I managed to work something else out.”

  “You moved here?”

  “I bought a house, Georgia.”

  Her eyes narrowed on me.

  “I bought the cottage. Down the beach . . .” I could see it all coming together for her. I could see her eyes blazing with recognition. The realization that I’d come back for her.

  “The cottage? The dog, the stranger—that was you?” she murmured.

  “Umm . . . not sure where you’re going with that . . .” A smile lifted the corner of my lips. Her eyes flickered down to my mouth and stayed there.

  God, she was still affected. My heart hammered in my chest and I yearned to reach out and take her in my arms. Emotion flooded my brain because I’d fucking dreamed of holding her again for three long goddamn months.

  Get it together, man. Don’t fall apart. Cool and calm. Don’t ruin this. Even if she wants to just be friends, you need her in your life.

  But what if she didn’t want that? The evil little guy on my shoulder taunted me. What if she never wanted me in her life again? Could I deal with her living down the beach from me and never see her? Jesus, that would kill me. This girl had the ability to lay me open and she didn’t have any idea.

  “A few weeks ago, I saw someone walking a dog, and they went into the cottage. That was you?”

  “I take Charlie for a walk every morning.” I gave Charlie a scratch behind the ears because I needed the distraction. If I was going to try to remain calm and cool, I needed a distraction from her sweet, heart-shaped face staring back at me.

  “You bought the cottage?”

  “Our cottage? Yeah.” Fuck, there I said it. Our cottage. Because it was our cottage. It was the way I’d been thinking of it from the moment I'd walked down the driveway and saw it open up before me.

  “I can’t believe you were right there,” she muttered.

  “And you were too.” I wondered how things would have gone if we’d run into each other a month ago. Would we be together now? Would we ever again? Would she let me in?

  Then the sky opened up above us and she squinted her eyes in the most adorable way, so adorable my heart tore open and I knew this was it, but I couldn't let it be. I couldn't let her walk away again. I was scared shitless she’d turn me away. A squeal escaped her throat as the rain poured down harder and she dodged around her car to land in her front seat. I stood, my hands stuffed in the pockets of my jeans, shoulders hunched, drowning like a street rat with the biggest smile on my face because she looked happy. So fucking happy for the first time since the early part of the summer. I’d stand in this fucking rainstorm and watch her all day as long as that smile lit her cheeks.

  “Dinner?” she called out to me.

  My eyebrows shot up in surprise; my heart thudded in my chest. “When?” I took a step closer.

  “Tonight. Manicotti?” A warm smile spread across her face.

  Manicotti. My mind shot right back to the first day we’d met so many months ago. Little did I know this girl would find some long-forgotten corner inside my heart and crawl into it. Imprint herself on my soul and refuse to leave. “You Italian or something?” I grinned as cold rain streamed down my face. She watched me for a few moments before she opened her car door, stood, and walked to me slowly. My eyes narrowed in confusion.

  She finally reached me, our chests just a hair’s breadth apart, my heart thudding in my chest, wondering what her next move would be. A soft smile lifted her cheeks as she brought her hand up, her fingertips dusting along my forehead, moving wet strands out of my eyes. My heart leaped into my throat and a smile spread across my face.

  She brought her other hand up to cup my cheek as she leaned in ever so slowly, her lips searching out mine. Finally, we connected. Our lips pressed together, not moving, just relishing the long, overdue connection. I couldn’t stand the distance that was left between us any longer. I needed my hands on her. To feel her, to know she was here and real. I lifted my palms and held her heartbreakingly beautiful face, the pads of my thumbs caressing her cheekbones. My lips began to move against hers slowly,
relishing her taste, the feel of her skin against mine. I lost myself in her scent, her lips, her touch as her fingers ran through my wet hair. Pleasure rippled through my body—happiness and bliss erupting. My heart pounded in my ears. It felt like it would crack a hole straight through my chest. She was here. My beautiful, dark-haired girl was here and she was back. I just prayed to God that this meant she was choosing me.

  4

  I ran into the pet store to grab Charlie some food and to collect myself. I told Georgia I’d meet her at her place just as soon as I was done. My mind reeled with the possibility. Did this mean something for us? Or was this just two friends catching up? I was so anxious to lay my eyes on her face again.

  Her beautiful, soft brown eyes.

  She’d seemed guarded when she first saw me, but there was an unmistakable sparkle. I felt in my bones that she’d thought of me too while we'd been apart. She seemed happy, and yet she wasn’t with Kyle.

  I coaxed Charlie into the Jeep, then ran back into the grocery store she’d just been in, the place I’d run into Briana a few weeks before. I grabbed a bottle of the most expensive wine I could find from the vineyard we’d visited up the coast last summer. I got behind the wheel of the Jeep, and suddenly my stomach was twisting with nerves to see her again. I couldn’t stay away. I wouldn’t survive if she pushed me away again.

  I knocked lightly before crossing the threshold of the beach house into the delicious, homey aroma of Italian cooking. My eyes scanned the living room, the dining room, and finally, the kitchen before they landed on her. I drank her in. Her entire form. She turned to me, a smile on her face. I stepped closer to her, my eyes trained on her chocolate-colored depths. I was unwilling to break the contact for which I’d been starved for months. I wanted her lips pressed to mine again—my hands holding her face, but I was fucking terrified. Terrified to push her too far. Maybe that had been why she’d run from me all summer: I’d laid my cards on the table with her at every chance and I’d scared her off.