For the Love of a Lush (Lush No. 2) (11 page)

"Here’s what I think," I tell her. "The guys’ teasing may have gotten me to get the room tonight, but I think we’ve both wanted this for a while. I think it’s better for us to plan it and do it right than to have an accident and do something stupid. Don’t you?"

"Yeah, I do." She reaches out and digs her fingers into my hair. "I love you so much, Walsh."

We kiss, and when our breath gets that fast, stuttery pace to it, I pull away and open my door. "Let’s go," I tell her, my voice kind of rough.

When we get inside the room, I reach for the light switch. "No," she says quietly as she touches me on the hand. "It’ll be easier for me if it’s dark. Do you have stuff? I mean, you know, the rubbers?"

"Yeah," I say as she leads me toward the bed, which I can just make out from the crack in the curtains where the parking lot light seeps in. "Right here in my wallet." I get it from my pocket and pull out the foil square. She reaches over and takes my wallet, and the condom, gently placing them on the nightstand.

Then she does something so Tammy, so my girl. She begins unbuttoning her top. She lets it slide off her arms and onto the floor. I swallow, just watching her. Next, she reaches around behind her and unsnaps her bra, letting it join the blouse on the floor. Her long hair brushes the tops of her breasts, and I think I might have died and gone to heaven. I’ve had Tammy’s top off plenty of times, but it’s always been in the back seat of a dark car or someone’s bedroom at a party where a bunch of my drunk friends could come in any old time.

"God, you’re so pretty, Tammy. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known," I tell her as I softly run a finger along her breast, circling the nipple and eliciting a shaky sigh from her.

"Your turn," she says so quietly that I almost don’t hear her.

I draw my hand back and reach for the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it off in one motion and dropping it in the floor.

My dick is totally swollen and I can feel it pressing against the button fly of my jeans. It fucking hurts like crazy, but I don’t move a muscle as Tammy skims her fingers down my chest, stopping at my waist, where she strokes the hairs that disappear below the denim.

She starts to undo the top button, but I put my hand over hers. I have to clear my throat before I can talk. "Um, just a sec, okay?"

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to remember the words to Stairway to Heaven like Mike told me you’ve got to do if you don’t want to come too fast. He said that it gets easier, but the first few times, all you want to do is pound away and come in about five seconds flat. Joss told me he read a Playboy that said you should do math in your head or something, but I fucking hate math, so Led Zeppelin it is.

I’m on the second verse when I feel things calming a bit down below. Tammy’s watching me with this expression that says, "What the hell is the matter with you?" and I can’t blame her. I look like an idiot standing here, telling a gorgeous girl not to touch me while I scrunch my eyes up and sing Led Zeppelin in my head. I take another deep breath.

"Okay," I say, opening my eyes. "So here’s the thing. This isn’t just about me," I tell her softly as I take her hand away from my fly and hold it. I pull her down on the bed so we’re sitting side by side. I rub my fingers over her knuckles as I talk.

"You’ve never, um, you know, come when we’ve been fooling around, have you?"

I see her head drop, her chin meeting her chest. "No," she answers in a whisper.

I run a hand through my hair. If the lights were on, I know I couldn’t do this. "I want this to be for both of us, Tam. I want to make you feel good too, but I don’t know how."

Her chin lifts and she looks at me as she reaches a hand out and cups my cheek in her palm. "Oh, Walsh. I always feel good when I’m with you, honest. Everything you do with me feels good."

She’s being sweet, but I want her to get this. "That’s great, but if we’re going to have sex, it’s about both of us—together. That’s the only way I’m doing it, Tammy. For both of us."

She nods. "Okay. But what if there’s something wrong with me. What if I can’t?"

"It’s supposed to be my job to get you there, so if you don’t, then I guess I suck." I try to laugh, but I don’t really pull it off.

"Well, all these other people do it all the time and it works out, right?" she asks.

"Yeah. I guess we’re proof it worked for someone, sometime."

"Gross," she laughs.

"Sorry," I mutter as I collapse on my back on the bed.

She lies down next to me and softly feathers her hand over my abs, driving thoughts of parents and procreation out of my mind.

"Walsh?" she asks as we lie in silence.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Can we just be with each other and figure it out as we go? You know, don’t think about it too hard?"

"That sounds great. I love you, Tammy."

"I love you too."

And so, in the dark of the Holiday Inn, we found our way. There, on the delicate line between childhood and adulthood, we learned everything there was to learn about each other’s bodies. We entered a new land—together—and we felt things we’d never known existed. We did things by instinct and by touch and by whispered desires in the cool, quiet night.

A few hours later, I drove her home and knew that everything in my world had changed. I’d loved her for months, but after that night, she was sealed in my soul. Seared onto my heart in such a way that there was no her and me anymore, just "us." And now here I am, nearly twelve years later, trying to pry her from me. Tease out the fibers of her being from the fibers of mine. And it’s fucking killing me, and she doesn’t seem to care.

I finally place J.B. on the floor and stand up, brushing hay off of my jeans. Tammy’s always done whatever the hell Tammy wants, and I’ve never really tried to impose anything on her, but I’m going to have to find a way to make her listen this time. There’s no way the two of us can keep inflicting this pain on each other anymore. We have to be away from one another. She’s got to leave, and I’m going to make her see that, no matter what it takes.

Tammy

G
IVEN THE
intensity of Walsh’s reaction to my new job, I’m not surprised to find Mike waiting at my car in the parking lot of the ranch when I go out to run an errand for Leanne between lunch and dinner.

He’s leaning against the driver’s door, arms crossed, big biceps and tattoos bulging all over the place, mean-ass scowl on his face. I guess he’s the enforcer now.

"Move, Mike," I snap as I reach the car.

"Not until you and I have a little talk."

I know that my therapist said I need to control my anger, but it’s pretty damn hard not to be mad at the guy who told Walsh I’d cheated on him. I own the deed, but Mike sure didn’t help the situation any.

"Talk? You want to talk? Maybe we should talk about how you told Walsh and Mel that Joss and I slept together in the middle of a hospital room while I was hooked up to IVs. Maybe we should talk about how you blew my whole fucking life up and now Walsh can’t even stand to be in the same room with me. Is that the stuff you want to talk about, Mike?"

He has the unexpected sense to look ashamed. I stand my ground, glaring at him even though I’m wearing sunglasses and he can’t see my eyes.

"Look, Tam, I apologized a hundred times for what I did that day. I know you got those emails and voicemails I sent. I’ll always be sorry about that, but I wasn’t the asshole who used you when you were so vulnerable."

And now he’s back to bashing Joss, which a year ago I would have been doing right along with him, but a lot of therapy got me to admit that it was every bit as much my fault as it was Joss’s. Joss’s betrayal was no worse than mine.

"You know, I’m not sure what your issue is with Joss, but you have to know that it took two of us to have sex, Mike. I was there too. As much as I wanted to make him the bad guy, he wasn’t any more than I was. We fucked up—badly—but I want to fix it now. That’s why I’m here, and you getting in the middle of it isn’t going to go any better than it did the last time."

Mike pushes off the car and starts scuffing the dirt with his boot toe. He’s wearing a pair of very expensive-looking cowboy boots—black leather with red inlays—and I have to bite my tongue to keep from telling him to quit getting them so dirty.

When he responds to me, his voice is quiet. "Look, Tammy. I admit, I admire your perseverance. It’s entertaining as hell. But Walsh isn’t seeing it that way. I’ve watched this whole movie before. Someone…" He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Someone I knew once, a couple who’d been together a long time and loved each other…This guy, this fucking asshole, who wanted what those two had took her away, and when it was over, it was all ruined. They were all ruined. I can’t stand to watch you and Walsh do that to each other. You haven’t been here watching him struggle with this. He was doing better, and then you showed up and shot it all to hell."

"He was doing better?" I ask, my stomach churning with the implication—yet again—that I’m somehow a danger to Walsh’s recovery.

"Yeah. I mean, he didn’t have a plan for what to do next, but he was stable, you know? He’s been working his steps, hasn’t slipped up once. He wasn’t angry and confused like he’s been the last couple of days. You’re fucking with his head big time."

I sigh and lean back against the car in the spot Mike vacated. He squares his shoulders and faces me, standing with his legs apart and his arms crossed, as if he senses that I’m wavering and wants to press his advantage.

"So you think I’m bad for him?" I’m trying so hard not to dissolve into a quivering mass of insecurity that I come off sounding defiant. But then, that’s sort of the way I always sound, so I doubt Mike will notice.

"Fuck, I don’t know. I just know that the dude doesn’t want you here, and it’s driving him nuts. I don’t think he deserves to be driven nuts right now."

I look at Mike standing there like the damn Queen’s guard. I don’t know who appointed him as Walsh’s personal militia, but Mike’s never thought about anyone but himself, so I don’t buy it. Somewhere in all of this is something for him, and apparently he won’t get it if I’m around.

"You know what, Mike? You may have been Walsh’s buddy all these years, but I’m the goddamn love of his life. I may be driving him nuts right now, but he needs me. He needs
us
. You don’t have to understand it. You’ve never been in love. You’ve never had that person who’s so much a part of you that you’re one being. Don’t talk to me about what Walsh needs until you’ve been in our shoes. Until you’ve actually thought about someone other than yourself for five minutes."

I press the button on the key fob and yank the car door open. Mike’s hand on my arm stops me from getting in though. He lifts his sunglasses from his eyes so he can look at me as he leans in close.

"Be careful, Tammy. You don’t know anything about what my heart’s been through or who I cared about most in my life. And you don’t know Walsh as well as you think you do. The guy you loved is gone, and you might not recognize his replacement," he growls at me.

I jerk my arm from his grasp and get into the car, sending up a plume of dust as I haul out of the parking lot. Mike stands and watches me until I’m so far away I can’t see him in the rearview mirror anymore.

I
HAD
no idea when I started my campaign to win Walsh back that it would be so damn hard. Walsh has always made everything easy on me—except his drinking. That was never easy on anyone. But in our relationship, he took care of whatever I wanted without me even needing to ask. After that first day I walked out of algebra class to find him waiting for me, it was nothing but smooth sailing. He asked me for my number—we talked. He asked me out—we dated. He asked me to have sex—we made love and learned each other’s bodies and each other’s hearts. Each time, it was as if he could read my mind, knew what I wanted next when I hadn’t even asked for it yet. It was never hard. There was never anything standing between us. Until the bottle and Joss.

Now, it’s like our mistakes—his and mine—are all there is. Nothing is easy, nothing is smooth, and I’m starting to wonder if it ever will be again. It’s been a week since I started working at the Double A Ranch. Every lunch and every dinner, I serve the food, and every meal, Walsh takes his plate from my hand without looking at me, without speaking to me. He enters and exits the house through the front door though I know he realizes that it pisses Leanne off. And every night before I go to sleep in my little room at Mrs. Stallworth’s house, he sends me a text with two words.
Go. Home
.