A Measure of Love (16 page)

Eleven years ago . . .

Riley lay on his bed, eyes closed, mouth open, hands gripping the pillows beneath his head. His neck arched and his hips rocked. Lexie’s mouth. Fucking
hell,
Lexie’s mouth. She sucked and licked and kissed and slurped all over his cock, drawing out of him a pleasure so intense all he could utter were sounds, growls, hums of
yes, please, God, don’t ever stop what you’re doing right now.

She’d gotten so good at this and had admitted on a few occasions that she loved doing it, which, for an eighteen-year-old guy with a near constant hard-on for his girlfriend, was fucking awesome. And, honestly, the feeling was entirely mutual; he adored eating her out. He loved her sounds, her smells, her taste, and when she came on his tongue, clutching at his hair and calling out his name, he felt like a goddamn king. Yeah, sex with Lexie was truly amazing and the two of them—whenever they could—had barely stopped having it since her birthday almost a year before.

She cupped his balls and took his cock deeper. Riley grunted. “Close,” he gasped, lifting his head so he could watch her. She winked at him. “Oh, fuck me, I’m close. Keep going.”

She smirked and took him again and again, fisting the part of his dick that she couldn’t take. Her mouth was so wet, so warm, and was just about the most perfect thing in the world. Riley pumped his hips, only vaguely remembering not to make her gag, until his orgasm slammed into his stomach, all but turning him inside out, until he was coming so hard into Lexie’s mouth.

He groaned and called out and gasped, and thank God they had the house to themselves, because there was no way in hell that Riley would have been able to keep quiet during that and how fucking embarrassing would that have been? He collapsed on the bed, chest heaving, only slightly aware of Lexie laughing and reaching over for the bottle of water she’d left on his bedside table.

“I swear to God, you’re amazing.” He closed his eyes as she snuggled in next to him, her naked body warm and soft against his. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “Amazing.”

She laughed again and rubbed a hand across his stomach. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Riley managed to open one eye. “Oh yeah.”

She reached up, cupped his cheek, and kissed him, the underlying taste of himself on her tongue, as it always did, causing heat to bloom unashamedly in his belly. He hummed against her lips and smiled. If he knew how to bottle the feelings he had for the girl in his arms, he’d have a bestseller on his hands. No one would ever feel miserable again. He knew their happiness was borderline sickening and his brothers had all teased him about it, but Riley couldn’t have given less of a shit.

“What time do you have to leave?” he asked, reaching down to pull his comforter over them. It was mid-July and hot, but he liked blocking out the outside world so it was just the two of them.

“Dad wants me back by three,” she answered, twirling her finger around his nipple. “Our flight’s at seven.”

Riley glanced at the wall. It was 1 p.m. “Is it stupid that I miss you already?”

She smiled against his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a week. You’ll barely notice.”

But they both knew that wasn’t true. Lexie and her family were flying to Florida for a week as Lexie’s graduation present, a last family vacation before she and Riley headed to New York. The family had been saving up since before Christmas, struggling to pay the trip off after her mother was laid off in February. Her father had been working extra shifts at the timber yard, and Lexie contributed from working at the local coffee shop. At one stage, Lexie had asked if Riley could join them, but the expression on Mr. Pierce’s face had said it all, especially in light of the fact that he blamed Riley entirely for her new tattoo.

He clearly didn’t know his daughter well at all. Of course, the tattoo was Lexie’s idea. Riley had simply followed in her wake as he always did.

He held Lexie closer. It didn’t matter anyway; they’d be in New York in a handful of weeks, with no parents around, and he’d finally have her all to himself. Excitement pinged through him. He couldn’t wait to have more days like today—no interruptions, enjoying Lexie’s body, playing hard, and studying at NYU. He’d had it all figured out from the moment they both received their acceptance letters. They’d managed to secure the same dorm—no small feat—and he’d arranged where they’d live on campus while they studied, what they’d do after finals, after graduation, and, after all that, how and where he planned to propose.

It may have been odd for a man of eighteen to have such romantic ideas, but he and Lexie weren’t like anyone else. Riley had friends who jumped from one girl to the next, their lives no end of drama, and he couldn’t have been less interested. He’d known Lexie was the one for him from the age of eight and, ten years on, not a single thing had changed. Lexie shifted at his side, her breasts squashing deliciously against him.

Well, maybe a couple of things had changed.

He rolled toward her, and kept going until he was lying on top of her, between her legs, pressing gentle kisses across her face, to her mouth and back again. He’d never get tired of how she tasted, the scent of her, or the feel of her hair in his hands. He paused for a moment, his gaze dancing across her face, committing every freckle, dip, and curve to memory. “I love you,” he whispered.

She reached out a finger to trace the two-week-old tattoo on his forearm, the tattoo that matched hers exactly. It depicted the world, and sat just above the inside of his elbow. The blues of the oceans and the greens of the continents were bright against his sun-kissed skin. “All the world,” she replied, her blue eyes intense. “Always.”

Riley drove her home on time. He never failed to be punctual where Mr. Pierce was concerned. And, sure enough, the man was standing on the porch, pretending to water his plants, as they pulled up outside the house. Riley smiled good-naturedly when Lexie chuckled and waved at her father through the window. She turned to Riley and reached for his hand. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered, her voice a little thick.

“You’ll barely notice,” he echoed with a smile. He leaned over the gear stick and kissed her softly. She kissed him back, her lips hungry but patient.

They jumped apart when there was a firm tap on Lexie’s window. “Alexis,” her father said, his voice muffled through the door. “Let that boy go and come and finish packing.”

Lexie smiled. “I’m coming, Daddy.” She turned back to Riley and kissed him again quickly before she jumped out of the car. Closing the door behind her, she grinned through the window and pressed her tattoo against the glass, mouthing, “I love you.”

All the world.

The following days passed at a snail’s pace. Riley did his best to keep busy, working out, helping his dad at the car shop, reading, hanging with Seb, but still the clocks in the house seemed to go backwards without Lexie around, especially when he hadn’t heard from her in two days. Looking back, Riley should have known something was wrong—Lexie was never quiet for long—but he tried not to worry. She was on vacation after all.

It was at three o’clock in the morning on the fifth day when Riley was woken by his mom’s gentle shake. Coming to, Riley rubbed at his eyes, noticing that behind his mother, his father was standing in his bedroom doorway in his bathrobe.

“What’s wrong?” Riley asked instantly, throwing a hand out, grappling and searching for his cell under his pillow, then his comforter. Seeing no text or missed call, his heart sank. “Is it Lex?”

Joan shook her head. “No, honey. It’s her dad,” she answered. “He’s dead.”

Riley froze, his eyes searching his mother’s face for a clue, a prank, a clear explanation to the truckload of what the fuck he was feeling. And, Jesus, his heart hurt. It clenched for Christine, for Savannah, and of course, for Lexie. The girl adored her father. He slumped against his pillows, pushing his fingertips into his eye sockets, hating that he wasn’t with her, hating that she was so far away. He tried calling, but her cell phone went straight to voicemail and continued to do so for the next two days.

It had been Lexie’s aunt who’d called Joan that night, and she became a source of information for Riley as he watched the hours pass, needing Lexie to be home. Riley was told how Mr. Pierce had died: getting dressed for dinner, he’d suffered a brain aneurism. “He wouldn’t have known much about it” were Park’s words of comfort, but honestly, they barely stanched the flow of grief Riley felt for Lex.

On the day Lexie and her family arrived back in Michigan, Riley drove to the house and wandered into the forest at the back of her place, eventually finding his way to the spaceship they’d built with Mr. Pierce when they were eight years old. It was still standing, solid and true, unlike Lexie’s dad, and Riley allowed a couple of tears to break through for the man, silently vowing to the sky above him that he would love and protect Lexie each and every day of his life.

The sound of twigs snapping behind him had Riley turning and simultaneously breaking his heart. Lexie, hair unwashed, face swollen from crying, stood a few feet away. For a brief moment they stared at one another. Days, weeks, even years later, Riley would understand that those precious few seconds symbolized the moment everything changed—he knew she wouldn’t be going with him to New York. Deep in his bones and fractured chest, he knew she’d chosen to stay with her family in Michigan and, as much as it tore him in two, he couldn’t be mad. How could he?

“Lex.”

She set off at a run and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, sobbing louder than he’d ever heard into his shoulder, telling him how sorry she was, God, so sorry that she had to stay with her mom and help, but, please, Riley, go. You’re too big to stay. Go. And take my heart with you. I’ll wait for you. Every day.

Riley cried, too, holding her so damned tightly, cupping the back of her head and kissing her cheek over and over, explaining how he loved her all the world, more than he could ever explain, and that things would be all right. He
promised
, he
swore
to her that no matter what or where either of them was, they would be together forever.

·   ·   ·

The house shook with the force of Riley slamming the front door shut behind him. Joan turned to look at him as she placed her purse and keys on the coffee table in the living room, her eyes sympathetic and worried.

“Did you know?” Riley barked, anger and turmoil tumbling through him. He wasn’t trying to be an asshole, and deep down he knew he was lashing out only because he was so fucking terrified, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to hit something, beat something to smithereens, and then scream at the world until he felt better. “Well, did you?”

Joan’s mouth all but dropped open. “How can you ask me that? Of course I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t hear
anything
?” Riley exclaimed as he paced. “No nosy gossipers? How is that possible when you know everybody in this shit hole of a city?”

“Riley, she hasn’t lived here for years,” Joan said calmly. “They all moved after the last time you were here. How would I know?”

And it was obvious now why Lexie had taken off the way she had.
Shit. Shit. Shit.

Riley clutched at his hair, his head thumping. “Christ, I mean . . . How could she?” he said toward the ceiling. “Mom? I mean, how the fuck? That little boy is— How can I . . . ?”

Joan’s chin shook, a mother’s heart breaking for her son. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know.”

Tate and Seb appeared in the doorway of the living room.

“What the hell’s going on?” Tate asked, moving to stand beside his mother, concerned frown front and center. “Ri?”

But Riley couldn’t answer. He heaved as his stomach turned. His whole world continued to tilt and whirl on its axis as Lexie’s words repeated with every pound of the pulse in his ears.
Yes. He’s yours. Yes. He’s yours.
How could three words have such a devastating impact? How could she have kept this from him? How could he have a son? How could he have lived all this time without knowing the child he’d fathered? How could his heart burst and break all at the same fucking time?

Questions twisted and pummeled him until, unable to contain it, Riley turned and, with a terrifying roar, slammed his fist into the drywall.

Seb was at his side immediately, grabbing his arm. “Fuck, man. Stop! What the hell are you doing?”

Unable to answer, Riley dropped his forehead to the wall and yelled. How was it that the only time he felt remotely like this was
when he was back in Traverse City? How was it that it was always because of Lexie? His skin prickled with anger so fierce, he trembled. Seb’s hand rubbed his back. “Riley, come on. You’re bleeding. Let’s clean you up, huh?”

Tate was at his other side with a bag of frozen peas and a damp cloth in his hand. “Let me see.” He reached for Riley’s arm and quickly wrapped the cloth around his knuckles. Riley figured it should have hurt, and maybe it did, but the rest of him hurt so much more, he barely noticed. “Come on, big guy,” Tate coaxed with that doctor voice he whipped out every so often. “You need to sit down. Seb, go grab a can of something sugary and a glass, would ya?”

“Roger that.”

On heavy feet, Riley allowed his older brother to guide him over to the sofa. He sat down slowly and let Tate fuss. “Dammit, man, this might be broken.”

Like Riley gave a flying fuck.

“I have a son,” he whispered in reply.

Tate froze at his side, the potentially broken hand forgotten. “What?” His gaze flickered to Joan, who was sitting at Riley’s other side. “How— What did— Hang on. You have a— Why did she not . . . ?”