The History in Us Page 5

  She became distant during the pregnancy, not wanting me to touch her. She frequently went out once AJ was born. Suspicions of her cheating on me lurked, but I couldn’t prove anything. I didn’t know how to interpret her behavior. I didn’t have marital role models. My mother left when I was young. My father ignored me until I was in high school. Then all hell broke loose.

  Cheers went up around me, breaking my reverie. I took a celebratory drink and swallowed the smooth sting. I’d tried to back off the stuff since the arrival of AJ, but the burn felt good, the warmth familiar, the drink like a homecoming.

  “What’s up, asshole?” The firm clap on my shoulder announced the arrival of one of my first college friends, Grant Mullens. Daddy’s protégé. He played the role of prodigal son, constantly trying to dodge the billionaire business world of his father. He had become a friend by default. We ended up in several of the same courses over the years, and although he was younger than me, his mindset was that of someone older, despite his perpetual immaturity. College co-eds hadn’t been his thing any more than mine. Northeast University had been a last-ditch effort to pull himself together after he’d been kicked out of Northwestern University’s Kellogg School of Business. Self-professed playboy, he didn’t want to take over Daddy’s company, but the cards stacked against him. He graduated from NEU by the skin of his teeth and immediately started working for his father. I was surprised to see him, but the pub was in an upscale neighborhood north of the city. This was his territory.

  “How’s Alicia?” he asked sourly, placing a fifty on the wooden bar and immediately grabbing the attention of the bartender. Within seconds, a double shot of scotch appeared, and he sipped his drink, forgetting he’d asked me a question. He didn’t like Alicia. He believed she’d trapped me in a relationship by getting pregnant.

  “She left me.” We were pals, but didn’t stay in touch like old ladies. I was shocked by how easily I blurted out the truth.

  “What happened?” The long and short of the story took less than five minutes to explain.

  “So who’s watching AJ tonight?”

  “I…I have a babysitter.”

  “Are you banging her?” I snorted as I took a sip of whiskey, letting the amber liquid burn my throat and numb my thoughts of Katie.

  “No,” I choked, not understanding the additional burn in my chest at Grant’s suggestion. While thoughts of having sex with Katie had haunted my dreams for years, having sex with her wasn’t the thing to do. She was the type of girl who needed something more, and I would never ask for that again.

  “Mind if I do?” He raised an eyebrow at me, while he sipped his own drink of pleasure.

  “Yes,” I barked before I gave it a thought. Grant’s eyes narrowed and a slow smirk rose on his lips. Damn it, he caught me.

  “She’s hot, isn’t she?”

  “She’s…” I clamped my lips shut, giving away the answer he wanted from me. Katie Carter was hot in a schoolgirl, beach babe sort of way. She was opposite of everything that attracted me and yet the most attractive woman I’d ever seen. Her blue eyes looked at me all innocent and questioning, and I wanted to be the answer. I wanted to be her answer, but I’d never deserve her.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  I stared at my friend. Younger in years, he appeared older to me in this three-piece suit and fancy silver watch. He wasn’t as carefree as he’d been a year or two ago. He seemed bitter and hardened by the privilege of working at his father’s company. Rough life, I’d joked, but the words were always said out of jealousy. I wished my father had been someone, made something of himself, so I could be his legacy. The label I had, with his last name, only brought fear I’d turn into a drunken abuser like him.

  “She’s from my hometown. We have history.” I shrugged to brush off the question.

  “What kind of history? Like you fucked her in high school?”

  “Man, shut up,” I snapped, appalled that sex was all he could equate to a woman, but knowing I’d felt the same way on most occasions.

  “You did, didn’t you?”

  “No, she’s like six years younger than me. She would have been a child when I was in high school. Chill.” But an image of her flashed before me—sweet, thirteen, and built like a woman.

  “Huh. Never figured you for a cradle-robber, but whatever works to rid your mind of Alicia, sounds good to me. You need to let shit go and move on. Pack up the abandonment issues and get back to love-em-and-leave-em, like me,” he teased. He had his own baggage weighing him down. As for ridding Alicia from my mind, could I do that so easily? Could I sleep with another girl, sleep with Katie, and get over the loss of my child’s mother? In many ways, the answer was a resounding yes. While I doubted Alicia’s fidelity, I couldn’t imagine a pregnant woman attracting another man. But once AJ was born, I had my doubts. Alicia’s denial of sex with me strengthened the possibility of someone else. Then she left me, confirming the reality. Alicia was a sexual being. If she wasn’t with me, she was definitely fucking someone else. So, yes, I could move on without danger of getting attached again. I didn’t have abandonment issues, as he psychologically diagnosed me. I was used to people leaving me.

  “Uh-oh, Jugular Johnson at five o’clock.” Grant hated Professor Johnson, and I spun to find Anne approaching us.

  “There you are,” she simmered, her eyes bypassing me to focus on Grant. “Oh God,” she teased, “not you.” Professor Johnson had a love-hate relationship with Grant. While she was appreciative of the generous donation to the university from his father, she didn’t appreciate his blatant hatred of all things academic.

  “Professor Johnson, how lovely to see you. You’re looking very fine tonight.” Anne’s eyes narrowed on Grant. Her arms crossed in that don’t-mess-with-me stance.

  “Don’t flirt with me, Mr. Mullens. It’s unbecoming.”

  Grant’s mouth opened, and I knew his comeback before he spewed the words.

  “Oh, I’d like to be coming, Professor Johnson.” He snapped her name tightly with his teeth, hinting at the sharp nips he’d give her, forcing pleasure in places I didn’t wish to imagine on my professor. His eyes roamed her entire suit-covered body. Arms slowly uncrossing, she swiped her hands against her hips. I found nothing attractive about Anne, but there was something that Grant did. More than fifteen years his senior, Grant flustered Anne as much as she tried to outwit him.

  “But on that note, I think I’ll be going.” His eyes roamed Anne a final time. “It’s too academic here for me.” He patted me on the shoulder and spun with a brief call me. Anne’s eyes followed his retreat before she muttered: “Of course, only a stupid woman would be smart enough to sleep with him.” I took a hardy drink at the longing in her voice and tried to wash away visuals I didn’t wish to see of my advisor and my friend.

  “So, you found a babysitter?” Anne asked me, snapping out of her stare. She wasn’t in boss mode at the moment; tonight was about meeting people who could potentially employ me. How did this become my life? I thought the military was all the work I’d ever need.

  “Yep. Katie Carter, do you know her?”

  “I love Katie.” Anne’s voice rose in appraisal. “She was in one of my classes as an undergrad. She’s such a hard worker. Quite the imagination. Quiet, but sweet girl.”

  “Mmm,” was all I could respond. I’d spent most of the week trying not to converse with Katie in fear she’d mention Elk Rapids again. Surprisingly, ER was part of the reason I felt comfortable asking her to babysit. Still caught between fear she would remember me and a slowly nagging hope she would, the hidden fact I knew her family eased my discomfort about leaving AJ. Spending several intimate moments in a bathroom stall with my son, dangerously flirting with one another, helped, too. Or maybe it was the way she lovingly stroked AJ’s head, not afraid of his hearing aids like Alicia had been. Not repulsed by them, like his own mother, who didn’t like the defect in her son to match the defect in the father. I had a warped sense that despite not wanti
ng Katie to recall who I was, I could trust her. The small town was an ironic comfort.

  “She’s very responsible,” Anne continued. “Timely, creative, organized.” She dispensed stats like she was a candidate for a job. I nodded in response.

  “And single,” Anne added.

  “Why the hell would I need to know that?” I blurted, spurting out the sip of whisky I’d taken while Anne rambled on with Katie Carter’s assets. She motioned for me to follow her, my interviewer awaiting us, but we lingered another moment.

  “Because single girls don’t have social lives. They have free time. She can babysit for you.”

  “Ahhh.” The gleam in her normally inquisitive eyes hinted at the fact that her explanation wasn’t entirely accurate.

  * * *

  By the time I sauntered home, I was cognizant enough to know I’d had too much celebration. While the Cubs won, I drowned in the effects of losing Alicia and questions about Katie. The wound was too new; I was still vulnerable. After nearly two months without her, the realization slowly trickled to full understanding. She wasn’t coming back. But then there was Katie, sweet Katie, who filled my darkness in the deep recesses of my mind. I didn’t fulfill the promise I made to her, and I prayed she forgot all about it. Sadness took over my celebration, and I became a sappy drunk.

  I stumbled up the stairs and unlocked my apartment to find Katie curled up on my couch. With the television on, a soft glow illuminated the room in flashing colors, but the sound was muted. The baby monitor rested on the table before her, despite the small space of my apartment. I sat on the coffee table and stared down at her for a moment. She looked so innocent, laying on my cushions, with her blonde hair loosened from the ponytail, wisps fluttering under his breath. I reached out to press one wavy curl back and then thought better of it. She wasn’t a girl for me to touch. She was a Carter, and that meant she was off limits to me. I owed that family for so many things. Her aunt Tricia. Her uncle Leon.

  Still, the curve of her hip, the tightness of her jeans, the swell of her breasts as she breathed in her sleep, did things to me. Things I didn’t deserve, creating thoughts I didn’t dare to imagine. My life was chaos, and I couldn’t subject her to my insanity.

  Her eyes opened slowly, lids lifting lazily before the shock of blue hit me like a wave cresting. Falling onto the beach with a crash, the startled effect of waking uncertain of her surroundings washed over her. Her head rolled and she stared at the ceiling as if the spackled covering could explain her bearings. Her hand covered her forehead while she blinked. Then her head twisted back to face me.

  “I fell asleep.” She stared at me. “I’m so sorry. I fell asleep.” She repeated the words, as if startled that she’d slept. Between the baby and my dreams, I knew all about restless sleep. About nightmares. She swung her feet off the cushions and her knees brushed mine as her feet came to rest on the floor. The swift caress of her knees with mine sent a subtle shock to my spine. The move was so quick, it startled me, and I stood quickly, just as she did. We collided chest to chest.

  When she fell back, I tried to right her, reaching for her waist. The momentum pulled me forward, but my knee locked. She hit the cushions with a thud, as I released her, and I caught myself on the back of the couch. I towered over her, my arms trembling with the strength needed not to fall forward. Her head fell back on the cushions and those eyes looked up at me. Heaven on earth. Sapphires in the sky. I swallowed hard and she bit the corner of her lip. Fuck me. I pressed upward and stood back. I suddenly wanted her beyond all measure of need. Katie Carter would be everything to me, filling the empty space in my chest, rebuilding my heart. The thought startled me while it overwhelmed me.

  I reached down for her hand, which she took, allowing me to pull her up from the couch. Stepping to the side to prevent colliding again, I didn’t release the delicate cool fingers in my large, roughened palm.

  “Your fingers are freezing.”

  “Your air is on high in here.” After years in the desert, I liked the cold.

  I cupped both hands over hers and brought them to my mouth. Blowing into the cavern, my breath covered her thin fingers. Her pupils dilated, the black filling the blue.

  “Old army trick,” I whispered, captured by her gaze.

  “From a small town with cold winters, we use it there, too,” she said, then shut off those gems from me. Her face darkened in the dull light of the television. Was she embarrassed by what she’d said? I remembered that town, that cold, that trick. Only I wanted to do more than warm her hands.

  What am I thinking? Katie’s body could serve one purpose for me, but I couldn’t go there with her. A quick lay was an easy find. Katie was the type you kept. I wasn’t ready.

  Releasing her fingers, her hand fell slowly, as if she wanted to reach for me, hesitating just over my shirt, lowering toward my belt and then fisting at her side. I sighed in relief. If she touched me, we’d be on the couch in an instant. My dick was hard. My head was fucked. I’d had too much to drink.

  “How was AJ?” My voice sounded too husky for such a question.

  “He was amazing. He’s so cute,” she purred. Her blue eyes glowed back with admiration for my son. Could she ever look at me like that, with admiration for me? “I gave him the bottle at eight like you said, and he was fast asleep after a story.”

  “A story?” I snorted. “He’s six months old.”

  She shrugged and bent forward to pick up her bag. I closed my eyes, not allowing myself to peek at her perfectly curved ass in skinny jeans. As she stood, the bag slipped from her shoulder. I reached out to right it for her and let my hand linger for a moment on her thin shoulder. My fingers slid down her arm, slowly, taking the measure of her cool skin, and then dropped away.

  “I don’t know how this works. I guess I should drive you home?” Time ticked slowly. For some reason, I didn’t want her to leave.

  “I’m fine. I’ll just grab the bus at the end of the street. That’s how I got here.”

  “The bus,” I exclaimed, suddenly panicked she would disappear. My heart raced. “It’s almost midnight. You can’t take the bus.” Could I convince her to stay? The idea was not a good one.

  “Why not?” Her brows pinched in this cute, questioning expression, and I wanted to press a finger to the crease. Cute? Who says cute? A drunk man says cute.

  “It’s late. You’re a girl,” I blurted, not making any sense. I rubbed my fingers across my forehead in frustration, a slowly developing headache hinted at a pre-hangover.

  “Are you saying I can’t do something, like take the bus, because I’m female?” There was an edge to her response. A bite. The feisty sound hinted there was a little bit more to the dolce Katie sometimes staring at me in class. I continually waited for her to recognize my name and shout out my history, but I found myself guilty of liking how she looked at me, like she was drinking me in, like she was thirsty, a thirst I knew in the desert that involved more than dry heat and a landscape of pure sand. My mouth watered and I swallowed hard. I stepped toward her. Too close, my head warned. Inhaling her scent, I breathed deep. Stop.

  “No, I’m saying as a beautiful woman, it’s dangerous to take the bus at this time of night.”

  She blinked. Eyes caressed my throat, curled over my chin and stopped at my lips as I stood taller than her. She was young, but something told me that behind those eyes, she was older, wiser.

  “You think I’m beautiful?” she asked softly while her eyes drifted over my face, warming me with a touch of blue. Of course, she was beautiful. She had the whole all-American girl thing going with that wavy straw-colored hair, bright eyes, tan skin, and a smattering of freckles over her nose. Too close. She smelled cool, refreshing, and tender, like a mixture of holding AJ and winter-fresh innocence. My mouth watered again at the combination.

  “Yes, Miss Carter. You are very beautiful,” I replied, keeping my voice low as if someone might hear, but feeling like we were the only two people who existed in the world. Her
face tilted upward, and those teeth bit the corner of her lip.

  I blamed drinking too much on my next move. I leaned forward and brushed her lips with mine. Would she remember me? The first touch was soft. A pencil stroking over a clean, white sheet of paper. I repeated the motion once more, searching for that sensation again, and then again, until her mouth parted. My tongue slammed into hers and my hands came up to grip the sides of her neck, cupping just under her jaw. Her innocent response to me sent a ripple up my thighs and over my erection, which was hard and pressing toward her. Her mouth matched mine, and I savored her further, the flavor of tenderness apparent with each swirl of her tongue against mine.

  Suddenly, she pushed back on my chest, reminiscent of a suppressed memory. Abruptly, I released her mouth.

  “Levi,” she breathed with hesitant exertion. “Aren’t you…” she hissed, on the verge of saying that dreaded M-word, but something in my expression stopped her. My hands dropped instantly. One ran over my head, the other slipped into my pant pocket to adjust myself.

  Oh my God, I thought. What did I do?

  “I’m not married. I told you,” I said to assure her, but it still didn’t answer what I had done. Her silent accusation rolled forth a plethora of conflicting emotions. Alicia leaving me, rejecting me, but Katie standing here, willingly kissing me. A prickle of a memory came back to me. Why did this girl haunt me?

  “Why are you here?” I snapped, suddenly angered. My body hummed with need. Need for answers. Need for a reprieve. Need for Katie.

  “I…”

  “What do you want from me?” I growled, my tone gravelly. “You’re all the reasons I left that town, Katie, with your good-girl thing going on.” Her face pinked as her eyes watered, and she looked away from me, as if she hadn’t heard me. I didn’t like her not seeing me. My mouth sought hers again, lingering too briefly before separating, and resting my forehead against hers.