For Life (Reclaimed Hearts Book 1) (32 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

May

Grady

A month after we get back from Delaware, Cassie and I surprise the kids by driving them to school together, something we never do. Caden hops into the truck without a second thought, but Chloe eyes us suspiciously from the back seat. “What are you two up to?” she accuses.

Cassie glances over at me, eyes twinkling, smoothing the hem of her dress over her knees.

“What makes you think we’re up to anything?” I tease. “Can’t parents drive their kids to school together?”

She narrows her eyes and scowls at us. “That’s not the routine.” Cassie and I exchange glances again but remain silent under our daughter’s watchful eye.

A few minutes later, Caden yanks his ear buds out. “Hey, Dad, you know you were supposed to make a left back there, right?”

“We’ll get you to school in a bit,” I reply, causing Chloe to shriek triumphantly.

“I
knew
it! Totally up to something!”

“You know nothing. Open the cooler back there, would you?” I gesture to the cooler on the floor between them which currently holds Cassie’s bouquet, a corsage for Chloe, and boutonnieres for Caden and me.

“Oh my GOD!” she exclaims, oohing and aahing over the flowers.

Next to her I hear Caden marvel, “How did they slip this past us?”

“I
thought
Mommy had extra makeup on!” The kids dissolve into excited whispers as Cassie checks her lipstick one more time, and then we’re at the county clerk’s office, ready to make it official.

Again.

After we drop Chloe and Caden off at school we spend the rest of the day doing all the really boring paperwork that needs to be done. Changing life insurance beneficiaries, adding each other to accounts, and merging policies should be a chore, but we enjoy it as much as we did seventeen years ago when we had very little to merge together and so many years ahead of us.

“Mrs. Mahoney,” I beckon late that afternoon from the garage. “Can you come here a minute?”

“Mmmm?” she calls from the kitchen, where’s she’s been making a grocery list. “Yeah, sure… Just a second.”

When she appears in the doorway to the garage, wearing the yoga pants she changed into when we got home, I give her a look that stops her in her tracks.

“Grady…” she protests. “I have to get this list done.”

“Nope. We’re officially married, and this garage is the one place in this house we still haven’t christened.”

She shifts restlessly and tosses her hair as if she doesn’t care, but I can see the heat flaring in her eyes. “It’s been too cold,” she offers, but it’s a weak argument and she knows it.

“It’s May now,” I remind her, striding towards her and tugging her out of the doorway. “It’s pretty warm.”

“You’re bad,” she murmurs, and I nod in agreement as I capture her mouth with mine.

“I’m gonna fuck you senseless on the hood of your car,” I tell her, kissing a trail to her ear. “Just so you know.”

“The car’s… dirty…” she pants, but I grin and tweak her nipple.

“I already put a towel down.”

She groans, still trying to pretend she doesn’t want it as badly as I do. “You’re shameless.”

“Yep.”

“Possibly a sex fiend.”

“No ‘possibly’ about it.” I make love to my wife until we’re both breathless and sweaty. When we move apart she accidentally knocks over a pile beach chairs with her foot, and we both laugh until our sides hurt before kissing and touching and starting all over again. The second time we have sex she whispers my name over and over like she used to in my dreams, and I’m shocked by the crushing feeling I get in my chest. She can still make me feel like a sixteen-year-old kid sometimes, eager for her heart, desperate for her touch, hopeful and terrified all at once. It’s the scar I still bear from eleven years apart, and thought it’s fading every day, I’m reminded of the wound from time to time.

“I love you so much,” she murmurs against my mouth, and it’s an instant balm for that old pain.

When the kids arrive home from school we take them out to our favorite Mexican restaurant and spend hours eating and drinking too much. Cass and I are so tired and full by the time we get home that we just collapse in bed, joking that it’s the beginning of the end of our passion. We fall asleep still laughing like a couple of teenagers, spooning together, her back to my front, my face in her hair.

It’s perfect.

* * * *

We put my house up for sale and it sells surprisingly quickly, which means we have a bit of money left over for the family vacation we’ve been planning when the kids are on summer break. Ares and Mr. Tibbles make uneasy peace, and Cassie learns to cope with having a four-legged security officer in her home.

Renée starts having a rough time as the shock of losing Carl finally settles in. Cassie’s good about calling to check on her every night, but we both worry that Renée pushed things too hard by trying to go back to work.

Coach Woodson is sentenced to six years in prison, which no one thinks is enough for what he did. Ryan and Caden are hanging out together again, and every time I see Ryan I’m angry all over again on his behalf, but he seems to be doing okay.

Chloe gets acceptance letters to music programs at four great colleges, including her top choice, and we celebrate every time. Going away will be good for her, I think. She and Cass are both trying hard, and every day they get a little better at dealing with each other.

May

Cassie

“It’s just that our new life is so hectic on the surface but so calm within that it scares me sometimes,” I confess, and Grady squeezes my hand. “It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

We see Dr. Gaul twice a month as a couple, although I still see her twice a month on my own. She tells us both she’s proud of us for overcoming the odds against us and working so diligently to reunite responsibly. I’ve started to let go - really let go - of the past, not only with our first marriage but with my parents. I know it’s my anger toward them that has held me hostage for so long, and I’m determined not to let it poison our sweet life.

Now Dr. Gaul nods and smiles before assuring me that life isn’t done testing me. She encourages me to store up the happy moments for when things are too overwhelming to bear. “Don’t waste your time waiting for bad things to happen,” she advises. “Live your life knowing they will and believing you’ll march right on through to the other side.”

I gesture to Grady. “Now you sound like him. That’s his philosophy. But I’m a worrier. I worry. That’s what I do.”

“Remember what I’ve said about worrying?” Dr. Gaul reminds me gently.

“I know. It’s like a rocking chair. It gives me something to do but doesn’t get me anywhere. You’re absolutely right.” I sigh. “And it’s not like I don’t have enough to do.”

“These are old habits,” she reassures me. “They take a while to die. In the meantime, your homework is to take a honeymoon.”

“We don’t have any time for that,” I protest. “We’re taking vacation with the kids when they get done school.”

“You didn’t have a honeymoon last time, either, remember? No one’s saying you have to fly to Tahiti, but take a night. Nurture your union.”

Eying Grady suspiciously, I venture, “Let me guess, he put you up to this?”

Dr. Gaul chuckles and Grady squeezes my hand before planting a gentle kiss on the back of it.

“We should, you’re right,” I concede.

“I’ll look forward to hearing about where you decided to go when I see you two next, then.” She smiles and opens her battered appointment book. Grady grins at me and I decide then and there that Dr. Gaul is right. I need my husband all to myself, even if it’s just for twenty-four hours.

Twenty years ago, I met a boy at a football game who changed my life forever. He likes to say it was love at first sight, that he knew the first time we kissed that he wanted to marry me. For me, love didn’t come until I thought I’d lost him for those two weeks back in high school.

And that’s just so like Grady and me, isn’t it? He always knew what he wanted, while I had to fumble my way through. He’s a man of action, while I’m a person of too much thought.

But in the end, we got it right.

EPILOGUE

June, Present Day

Cassie

“Let’s hustle!” Grady calls up the stairs. Thank God we had the good sense to pack the truck this morning or we’d never get these kids out the door. Although I think his demand to “hustle” at eleven-thirty p.m. is ambitious, the kids have exactly one job: to roll their asses out of bed and get in the car, where they can immediately fall back to sleep while we drive. Both of them said they’d still be awake when we left, and both of them were out cold by 10 p.m.

Caden, surprisingly, is first down the stairs, pillow under his arm and his hair sticking up in tufts. He yanks a hoodie over his head and pauses in the hall, seized by a great yawn. Grady pats him affectionately on the back of his neck and sends him trudging out to the car.

Chloe appears at the bottom of the stairs next, her eyes in slits, her hot pink “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” blanket wrapped around her and her pillow clutched tightly.

“She’s up and at ‘em,” teases Grady, and she swats at him half-heartedly.

“Dadd-yyyy… It’s too late,” she complains, her voice scratchy from sleep as she tugs the blanket up over her head like a hood and shuffles in her fur-lined boots after her brother.

“That’s it, then, Mr. Mahoney. Everyone present and accounted for. You sure you’re okay to drive?” I rub his back and he tugs me close for a quick kiss.

“As long as that travel mug is full of coffee, woman, then yes.”

I hand it to him and step out the door. He sets the alarm, checks the door behind him, and then whistles for Ares, who’s been patrolling the driveway during the excitement. Together they double-check the hitch on the pop-up camper before hopping into the truck with the rest of us.

“Think we’ll still make it by sunrise?” I ask as we pull out of the neighborhood.

“That’s the plan. We’re right on schedule.”

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this. We need a vacation so badly!”

“We do, and it’s gonna be great,” he promises. “I can’t wait for you guys to see it.”

“I can’t wait, either.” I feel like a teenager again, with the entire world ahead of me as we merge onto the highway. The occasional tractor-trailer glides past us, but for the most part the road is empty, and I kick off my shoes and prop my feet up on the dash. The excitement keeps me awake for a bit, but then I start nodding off. I try to fight it, but Grady squeezes my knee.

“Sleep, Cass. I’ve got you.”

“What if you get too tired?” I mumble, closing my eyes and thinking how nice it would be to just crash out like the kids. The soothing vibrations have me feeling a bit fuzzy around the edges.

“That’s why I took a nap this afternoon. I’m fine. You’ve been up since five. Sleep, baby, or you’re going to be too tired to enjoy the view when we get there.”

His permission relieves me of any guilt and I drift off, lulled to sleep by the road.

* * * *

“Baby.”

I feel Grady before I hear him. His fingers slide along my jaw, under my hair, to stroke my neck, and instantly I’m awake.

“Cass.”

I must have slept all night. When I look out the windows I see it’s still mostly dark, and we’re at a fuel pump in a well-lit gas station. In the horizon a soft puddle of light glows at the base of the velvet night sky. The clock on the dash says 6:08 a.m. Grady has gotten us here before sunrise.

“You drove the whole way?” I rub at the kink in my neck and tilt my face up for a quick morning peck. I can only imagine what my mouth tastes like and keep my lips firmly pressed together. His eyes crinkle in the corners as he smiles and tugs me closer for another soft kiss. I’ve missed a night of being curled up against him, and I can tell he’s missing our morning cuddle.

Before waking me he’s already taken Ares out, filled the gas tank, washed the windows, grabbed us a couple of coffees, and stashed containers of orange juice in the cup holders between the kids. Again I’m amazed at what he does for our family without any sense of drudgery or resentment. He wanted us to sleep as long as possible, and he made sure we could do that by taking care of everything else.

He kisses the tip of my nose and then pokes his head into the backseat. “Guys,” he calls. “We’re in Virginia.”

I try not to be jealous as their father’s voice rouses Chloe and Caden instantly and tell myself it’s just a vacation fluke. They blink at us from the backseat like baby owls, half-awake and curious. Caden almost immediately gives us both a sweet smile, but Chloe is slower to become human in the morning. Her forehead crinkles until she spies the orange juice sitting in the console.

“Thanks,” she grumbles vaguely in our direction before grabbing it. She takes a swig and closes her eyes again, her fingers still curled around the bottle.

Grady pulls out and we’re on the road again. Almost immediately we see the signs, and everyone sits up a bit straighter. Ares, sensing the shifting energy in the car, is on high alert in his crate in the back. By the time we make it through the entrance and drive along through the trees to a pull-off spot, it’s just 6:20. Grady got us here in perfect time.

We all pile out of the truck. Everything is shockingly silent, so still that even the slightest scuffing of our feet in the roadside gravel is the loudest sound we hear. Ares immediately sniffs the surrounding area while the four of us stand shoulder to shoulder, taking in the view.

“It’s so pretty,” Chloe breathes.

“Pretty” is not an adequate word to describe the Blue Ridge Parkway at dawn. It’s a breathtaking view - mountain peaks, still soft with mist, rise majestically in the distance. The sky muses between violet and pink and gold, deciding what color to be for the next half hour or so. The vista stretches on and on, as far as the eye can see. Around us the forest emanates the earthy aroma of damp leaves and pine.

“It’s awesome,” Caden agrees, pulling out his phone to take a picture. He holds it up for a moment, trying to capture the shot, and then shakes his head and stuffs his phone back in his pocket. There’s no way to capture what we’re experiencing other than to just live it.

Grady brushes my fingers with his own, a quick reassurance that I’m still here. That this, our family, is real.

“How far to our campsite, Dad?” Caden asks.

“A little ways still. We’ll stop in a bit, have some breakfast, probably get there around nine. But this right here? This is why we left so early.”

“Good call, Daddy,” Chloe says, shivering a bit from the breeze. I wrap my arm around her and she leans into me, allowing me to keep her warm. I send up a silent prayer that my prickly daughter will accept her mother’s affection for a few more minutes, but even when she eventually slides away I am grateful for the tiny moment. Baby steps, as Grady says. One day at a time.

The kids bundle back into the truck, yawning. Caden mumbles something about food and I dig for a granola bar, which he devours so fast I hand him two more, along with a banana. At the rate he’s growing he’s not going to be able to fold into the backseat much longer. Already he’s twisted up like a pretzel, his long legs folded uncomfortably behind my seat.

I watch Chloe’s face as we pull back onto the road. A dreamy expression flits across her features and disappears, and I wonder what beautiful thoughts she’s just had. Her fingers brush the window as a young deer steps from the edge of the forest and then quickly retreats. She smiles at me, a real smile, and I capture it in my memory and hold it close. 

* * * *

Later that night, when the kids are tucked into the camper, stuffed with S’mores, occupied by whatever’s streaming out of their headphones, and safely guarded by Ares, I decide to lure Grady into our tent. He’s pouring water on our fire when I poke from between the unzipped flaps and give him a reverse striptease, flashing my bare chest before buttoning myself into my flannel nightgown. It’s a mild night, but still chilly, and though I should’ve worn pajamas the thought of not being able to tangle my bare legs with his is enough to make me endure some goosebumps.

I’ve zipped our sleeping bags together, but when he crawls in the tent after me he’s not the least bit worried about getting tucked in. And registering the heat in his gaze, suddenly I’m not worried about warmth anymore. It’s been a good day, a happy day, and his eyes gleam with need for me.

He’s too tall to stand upright in our tent, so he remains on his knees as he zips the flaps closed behind him. A little frisson goes through me with the
z-z-zip
, because now I’ve got him to myself. All day I watched him stake tents and chop firewood and build fires, every inch a man. I never had any interest in camping, but if this is what I’ve been missing then I’m about to invest some serious energy in this activity.

“Can I still get some of what you showed me a minute ago?” he teases, stripping off his sweatshirt and dropping it.

I nod and lick my lips.

“I was worried you started without me.” He peels off his t-shirt and I marvel at the motion of his lean muscles rippling under his skin as he twists to tuck his discarded clothing in the corner of the tent. “Actually,” he says, his voice getting low, “I was kind of hoping you started without me so I could watch for a little bit.”

Oh, dear God.
I’m instantly drenched between my thighs.

Grady grabs my ankles and presses into me for a kiss, folding my legs up and shuffling toward me on his knees until he’s kneeling between my thighs. He releases one ankle so he has a free hand to hike my nightgown up, and then he rocks back on his heels to gaze at me.

My heart races as he takes my ankle in his hand again and plants a tender kiss on my instep before placing my foot flat on his chest. His heated gaze follows the path of his own hand as it travels up my leg, stroking, circling the swell of flesh at the back of my calf and squeezing it before tickling the hollow behind my knee. He massages his way up the inside of my leg, lingering on the smoothest parts, until he reaches the apex of my thighs. His eyes go dark as he realizes I’m naked under my nightgown.

He strokes close to my heat but doesn’t make contact. His thumb grazes the sensitive skin at the crease of my thigh and I gasp, but he moves his fingers away to trail along the outer swell of my hip and curve across my belly. And then his hand is back, his fingers exploring the crease again, teasing the edge of my curls where the skin is the softest.

My nipples spring to attention, the fabric rasping against the sensitive peaks, and I bite back a moan and fumble with the buttons so I can give him more of me. The nightgown unbuttons to my waist, and with my breasts bared to him, his fingers roam eagerly, cupping the weight of each, flicking the hard nubs and making me whimper.

“You are so beautiful,” he marvels. “I love your body, Cass. I love the way you move when I touch you.” He pinches a nipple and my back arches involuntarily. “God, yeah, just like that.”

He undoes his belt, then unzips his jeans and slides them down to his knees. The black boxer briefs underneath are tented by his erection and I slide my foot down the trail of hair on his stomach to rub him over the thin cotton with my toes. He groans softly and I feel him twitch against the arch of my foot, so I work my toes over the stiff ridge again and again until he frees his cock and begins to stroke himself.

I slide my foot up back up to brace against his shoulder and spread my other leg wide, giving him an unobstructed view between my thighs. His gaze flickers to my face before fixing on my obvious arousal, and with his free hand he strokes the soft pelt of hair before dipping his fingers into my wetness. Working one teasing finger in and out of me, he jacks himself slowly. There’s a bead of pre-cum at the tip of his cock, and watching him get so turned on by me makes me even more eager for him to be inside me.

“Grady,” I plead. “Please, baby, I’m ready.”

“Soaking wet,” he agrees, working a second finger inside me and rubbing the spot he knows just how to find until my legs are trembling and the blood is roaring in my ears. He withdraws his fingers and slides them into his mouth with a ragged sigh, closing his eyes at the taste of me, which causes my insides to riot. “Ah, Cass, this sweet pussy of yours.”

I realize I’m moaning way too loudly and bite the sleeve of my nightgown, whimpering around clenched teeth as he strokes and tastes, strokes and tastes. I need him to eat me or fuck me quickly before I die on my first ever camping trip.

The fat head of his cock nudges me of its own accord, and he grasps it one hand and rubs a pearl of his pre-come over my swollen clit, making me shudder at the contact. He lodges the tip of himself just inside me before pulling back out to paint my clit with his pre-come again, and he does this several times, groaning at his own restraint every time he pulls back out of me, until I’m clawing his arms and begging for full penetration.

Finally he gives in and fills me, thrusting inside me as he covers my body with his. I wrap my ankles around the small of his back and clutch his ribs with my knees as he moves in me. My hips match his rhythm. Threading his fingers in my hair, he cradles my head in his hands and watches my face as he slowly makes love to me.

“I’d rather be inside you than anywhere else in the world,” he says softly.

“Flatterer,” I whisper, but there’s no ignoring the devotion in his eyes as we move together.