Unbroken (23 page)

“What the actual fuck?” Lark asked as soon as the door closed behind him.

“That was my exact thought,” Cole said, sitting down on the couch.

Kelsey was wringing her hands and pacing, and Quinn followed suit. Lark sat down next to Cole.

Cade was suddenly conscious of the fact that his leg hurt like hell. But he had too much adrenaline from un-thrown punches rioting through his veins. He would pace if it wouldn't be excruciating. Instead he stood, Amber's fingers still curled into his shirt, like she was holding him up. Hell, maybe she was.

“That explains some things,” Cade said, pulling away from her. He was uncomfortable with the idea of her being the one keeping him from tipping over. That wasn't her job. It shouldn't be.

He should be strong enough to stand on his own two feet, even if one of them couldn't bear all of his weight.

“Like why he's been circling around like a vulture?” Quinn asked.

“Yeah. That.”

“And why he came and talked to me at the diner a while back,” Nicole said. “I had breakfast there,” she added, looking strangely guilty.

“Yeah, I remember that,” Amber said. “He was being weird. He's been weird since he first showed up. I thought it was weird he wanted to be here so badly, and now it makes . . . a strange kind of sense. Clearly he's a little . . .”

“Crazy?” Cole asked.

“That's not nice,” Kelsey said. “I mean, okay, he's intense, sure. But we're talking about a man who got abandoned by his father. And who was given nothing by that same father.”

“In fairness,” said Nicole, “I do give off a less villainous air. If I say so myself.”

“You do,” Cade said. “In fact, it makes me feel like a gigantic dick for being such a jerk to you.”

Nicole shrugged. “It's . . . fine. I mean, it hurt my feelings, but this whole thing is a nightmare, and it's not your fault you didn't know how to handle it right. I'm not even sure what handling it right means at this point. Part of me thinks I should have just left you all alone. And then . . . some of me is just really glad I came, because I don't have anything back in Portland. I don't have family. Not even a dysfunctional one. I'm alone, and this is . . . it has been . . . so much better than being alone.”

“You won't ever be alone again,” Cade said. “That's one thing I can promise you.”

“It's one of the more annoying things about this family,” Lark said. “We take care of each other to a point of being invasive.”

“It's true,” Cole said. “Ask Quinn.”

Quinn nodded. “Yeah. I seem to recall getting punched in the face when we first met.”

“You were sleeping with my sister,” Cole said.

“He still is,” Lark said.

“But with a marriage license. I can deal with that.”

Nicole fidgeted in her seat. “I feel . . . I had an inkling that there might have been another . . . secret our dad had. I got a call from some debt-collection company a few years ago looking for him, about a property in Prineville, and I . . . it made me wonder. But maybe there was another house. Obviously there was another family. I should have said something.”

“You couldn't have known about Davis,” Cole said. “It would have been a wild guess. You didn't even know us then.”

“I know.”

“I feel like such a jackass,” Cole said, dragging his hand over his face. “How is it possible that our dad tricked so many people?”

Cade had an idea, and he didn't like it at all. Because sometimes he felt like he had the same skill. Selfishness and too much charm. Somehow, he was able to get away with an unreasonable amount of shit, and his smile had always pulled him out of it.

Inheritance from Dave Mitchell.

“He was a great guy,” Cade said. “In that everyone wanted to be his friend. Or his lover, apparently. And he managed to keep it all smooth. He was good to mom, good to us. And good to all the other women in his life. But none of it was real. Or lasting.”

That dug straight into his gut. Too close to him.

“You're not the one who should feel like a jackass, Cole,” Lark said. “Dad's the one who lied. He's the one who tricked us. There's no shame in believing in your own father.”

“Hell,” Nicole said. “I loved it when he came to visit, and I didn't even really . . . know he was my dad. You can't blame yourselves.”

Cade let out a sigh. “So what do we do with . . . Davis? The newest member of the Mitchell family tree.”

“Bleah,” Lark said.

“There isn't much you can do about him,” Amber said. “Not until you know for sure what he wants. For some reason . . . I'm not getting a snuggly family reunion scent off of him.”

“Yeah,” Cade said. “I'm not either.”

“Our dad was an asshole,” Lark said.

“On that we can all agree,” Cole said, his voice rough.

“I loved him though,” Lark added.

“Me too,” Cade said. “And I knew a lot longer than the rest of you.” That had always been the hard part. Loving the old man. Hating what he did. Hating that he'd expected Cade to be the one to keep the secret.

You understand though, son.

Yeah, sure he had. He'd said he had.

Why had his dad assumed he would? There was no good answer to that question.

“Even I kind of love him,” Nicole said.

“I guess you can't help it,” Cole said. “You love your parents. Even when they don't deserve it. Which is kind of a relief, all things considered,” he said, going over to Kelsey and putting his hand on her stomach.

“Yeah, but, Cole, I don't have to love you if you go off and make babies with other women. You realize that, right?”

They all laughed at Kelsey's dry joke, even though it wasn't that funny. It was just nice to break the tension.

“I have no desire to be with another woman,” he said, “ever. I love the old guy. But I sure as hell don't understand him.”

Which was another reason why Cade had been the one trusted with some of the details. And it was why Cole was the one standing there with a wife. Why Cole was the one married with children.

One woman for the rest of your life? You and I know that's not realistic, Cade. I love your mother, but love and lust are two different things. You understand.

Sure.

Accidents happen.

His dad had said that about Nicole. Like it was no big deal. Like she was a fender bender, and not a baby.

And apparently, he'd thought even less of Davis, since another son had never been mentioned. Never been explained.

All things considered, Cade could hardly blame the guy for being an ass. Cade acted like an ass for a lot less.

At least he'd had their dad. This house. The career he'd had.

“You ready to go?” he asked Amber. Because he needed to be with her. Just her right now, and not everyone else. And Lord knew why.

“Yeah,” she said. “I don't really feel all that well.”

“No surprise why,” Quinn muttered.

Yeah. Who the hell could feel good after all that.

“We'll go too,” Lark said.

Cole nodded. “Probably for the best.”

It was unusual for all of them to split up when stuff this serious was going down. But maybe that was a testament to just how weird it all was.

“You okay?” he asked Nicole. Because probably he should, since she didn't have anyone to leave with.

“Yeah,” she said. “Actually, I might . . . take a drive. Not a long one off a short pier or anything, so don't worry. I just need to . . . clear my head.”

“Don't blame you,” Cole said. “I think we all do. But know that you're welcome to come back here.”

“I do,” she said. “And I appreciate that. Actually, in some ways . . . I feel better knowing there was more than just me. That means I'm not solely responsible for ruining the Mitchell clan.”

“You never were,” Cole said.

“And anyway,” Lark said, “you never ruined anything. It's been nice having you.”

Nicole looked at him. And he knew he deserved that. “You didn't ruin anything,” Cade said. “It was our dad who ruined things. We all deserved better than we got. All of us.”

“Yeah,” she said, “we did.”

“But at least now no one's on the outside.”

“Except Davis,” Cole said.

“Only if he wants to be,” Lark said.

“That's true. Being likable isn't a part of being family,” Cole said. “Take Cade as Exhibit A.”

“Hey,” Amber said.

“It's true,” Cade said.

Because in this whole shitty scenario, somehow he felt like he held some fault. That was the heart of it all. That was why dealing with Nicole had been so hard. He'd felt complicit, and he still did. Even now, standing here, he felt like he wasn't sure which side he was on.

Sure, he thought his dad was a dick. But he'd protected him. So his actions proved where he stood. And he didn't like it. Not at all.

“I'll see you guys later,” he said. “I'm sure we'll need to have a roundtable discussion soon.”

“Yeah,” Cole grunted.

He laced his fingers through Amber's and led her from the house. For some reason, holding hands seemed about right. Seeing how if he didn't hold on to her he damn well might fall on his face.

Unsteady legs and a big shock weren't the best combination, it turned out.

They were silent on the drive home. All the way until they got into her house.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“Fuck. No.” He pulled her into his arms and pushed her back against the wall, bringing his lips down on hers, kissing her with every last bit of rage in him. Every bit of despair and self-loathing—and dammit, there was a lot.

He didn't want to talk. He just wanted to exorcise it all until he couldn't feel it. Until his back and leg were all that hurt, and not his head and chest.

He pushed her top up, then reached around and unhooked her bra, dragging it all to the floor before lowering his head and sucking one nipple deep into his mouth.

She arched into him, a hoarse cry on her lips. That was all the encouragement he needed.

He hauled her against him, away from the wall, and propelled them both into the living room, then he spun her away from him and pushed her down so that she was bent at the waist. She caught herself on the back of the couch, her hands clinging tightly to it.

He gathered her hair into his hand and pushed it aside, exposing the curve of her neck, the elegant line of her back.

He traced the indent in her back, down to the waistband of her skirt. To the dimples just above her butt. If there was anything more sensual than those marks, he hadn't seen it. A reminder of how soft she was. Of how different she was from him.

He gripped her hips, ran his hands down her thighs and to the flowing black hem. He curled his fingers around the cool fabric and started to draw it upward, baring her legs, her hips, her ass, barely covered by black lace panties.

“Normally,” he said, “I'm not much for fashion.”

“This is hardly fashion,” she said, her voice choked. “This is a work uniform.”

“Hush. I'm trying to compliment you.” She did, which surprised him. “I like how your panties match your skirt,” he said, and he felt her shiver beneath his hands.

“Normally no one appreciates those details.”

“Oh, I do. Matches your shoes too.”

“Yeah. I'm a fashion plate like that.”

“These need to go though,” he said, drawing her underwear down to her knees and taking in the view of her bare skin, her skirt pushed up, her high heels still on.

Damn.

She shifted and stepped out of the black scrap of fabric and pushed it aside with her toe. Then she started to kick off her shoes.

“No,” he said. “Leave them. Then face the couch again.”

He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know why he was talking to his best friend like this. Why he was giving her orders. Why he was about to screw her into oblivion. Both his oblivion and hers.

He didn't know what gave him that right.

What gave him the right to speak to her this way, to treat her this way. But she wanted it, of that he had no doubt. Still, he didn't know if that made it okay. If that made it right.

But right now he didn't care. Not even a little bit. Right now it didn't matter. All that mattered was desire.

And maybe, in this moment, he was finally proving it. That he was just like his father. That he really did understand. That lust was sometimes more important than common sense. Than love and caring.

Than doing the right thing.

Because how could anything be more important than this? Than Amber's bare ass, and her bent over the couch. Than her waiting for him. Begging for him with her every breath, with every needy sound she made?

There was no right thing on earth that had ever been this important.

He pushed his hand between her thighs, ran his fingers across her slick folds. Felt how wet she was. For him. Only him.

Yeah, there was nothing more important than this.

Everything else could go to hell.

He grappled with his belt buckle and finally managed to free himself before he retrieved a condom from his wallet and sheathed his length.

He pushed against the entrance to her body, the head of his cock sliding in easily. She was so tight, so wet. He held on to her with one hand, and on to the couch with the other, trying to keep himself from falling.

It was too good. He didn't know if he could last. He didn't know if he wanted to.

It would be the easiest thing to do. Just push in all the way and let go. Give in to the fire-breathing monster inside of him that just wanted to consume, and not give at all.

But that he couldn't do.

Because it was Amber. Because she was his best friend.