Rome (Marked Men #3)(42)
Author: Jay Crownover

It became apparent the very next day that not talking to her, not being able to touch her, to hold her, hurt way worse than my pride did. She was under my skin, buried far enough down that I realized if I had to get help in order to be someone she could be with, then that was my only option and it was time to stop running and just do it. I was so glad she was willing to give me another shot. I needed her, and now with the baby, messed up or not, I was pretty sure she needed me, too. I was willing to do whatever it took to make this thing between us work, even if that meant all the sexual attraction and potent heat that had drawn us together initially had to be banked. There was nothing quite like being put in the friend zone by your pregnant girlfriend.

I spent the entire month of September keeping my hands in my pockets and my dick in my pants. I went with Cora to the doctor, which was exciting and terrifying at the same time. We went to dinner, hung out like a normal couple that was just starting to date, and I even entertained the idea of making peace with my folks like I had tentatively done with Shaw, because I knew it would make her happy and I was sick of running scared. I was tired of trying to guess what others’ expectations of me were and had to get my head around the idea that my expectations of myself were enough. The idea of bridging that gap did make her happy, which made me happy, even if the idea was like torture for me. I just didn’t know what to say to them in order to get the conversation started.

It was fine, the slower pace. I liked spending time with her, we got along great, and when we didn’t, the way those two-toned eyes flashed and sparked a million different colors made me have visions of makeup sex that were triple-X-rated. It wasn’t like I was only with her to hook up, but I would be a big fat liar if I didn’t admit that I missed it, missed her and all that colorful skin. Sex with Cora was unlike sex I had ever had before, and not just because she was pierced down there and had all those colorful jewels embedded in her skin. Despite her refrain that she was holding out for some unobtainable vision of perfect, she just got me, like really got me even though I was as far from perfect as a guy could get.

I didn’t know how she could stand the lack of sex either. Her hormones were all over the place lately. She was more mouthy and a little snarkier than usual, but there was something in her eyes. I would catch her looking at me out of the corner of her eye, like she was feeling the same repressed desire as I was. Like we were sitting on the brink of something major, something bigger than everything we had experienced before, but it was like she was scared of the drop-off. She let me kiss her, let me cuddle her up on the couch while we watched movies, she was openly affectionate, holding my hand, wrapping her arms around me, and letting me know she was there. She was always the one who pulled away, who cut the contact short and stayed on the right side of sexually unfulfilled. I could see the regret, the frustration on her pretty face, but I wasn’t willing to push my luck, so I didn’t question it or try and push it with her. She was willing to take me as is. I was willing to take her and any obstacles she put in my way as par for the course. Sometimes I thought she looked at me like she was downright terrified, not of me, but of something I was making her think or feel.

I was making up for lost time at the bar as well as trying to get my relationship with Brite and the regulars back on track. Brite was back, mostly I think to make sure I didn’t drink him out of bar and profit the way I had at the end of the previous month. I think he was worried I was going to spiral out of control again. To prove to him that I had no intention of ruining my life, of letting Cora raise that baby alone without me, I was working extra hard and had all the improvements he asked for nearly done. I had even found a few of my own to add to the upgrades. The place looked like a nearly new bar; it was spotless, polished, and not a surface wasn’t touched up and brand-new. There was an influx of new blood coming in the door and business had picked up enough that Brite asked Asa to stay on as the permanent evening bartender. My personal thought on that was that he liked the view. There wasn’t a night the bar wasn’t surrounded by pretty young things all clamoring for the blond country boy’s attention. Asa was just that good.

I still didn’t know what I was going to do when I was done with the Bar, but I was making a conscious effort not to lose sleep over it. I was losing sleep over enough other things. My future had enough twists and turns in it that beating myself up over not having all the answers was just exhausting and I didn’t have the energy to do it anymore.

It was also a day-to-day struggle to deal with the nightmares and the weird slips in my mind that drew me back to the desert and all that blood and death in a more healthy and positive way than drinking myself stupid. An occasional vodka tonic was one thing; trying to kill my liver was another. When I woke up now, I went running or took the Harley out for a long ride until I came back into myself. It took longer but it worked just as well, and talking to Brite’s friend was making me realize that it was just like everything else in life: I had to work at it, had to practice getting better. He also made me see that if I let the people that loved me help, it would make the process go faster. Just like Shaw told me, everyone was just going to have to learn to love me in a new way and I had to be all right with that. It was okay to ask them for help, that didn’t make me weak, and I should be appreciating still being around to listen to them, not feeling guilty about it.

One night Cora and I were sprawled out on the couch at my place. Nash was out with Rowdy and my girl was all cute and curled up in a ball resting against my side. She had picked some dumb girly movie to watch after dinner and it was all I could do to keep my eyes open, it was so boring. I liked the way she fit next to me, she was so small and so deceptively delicate, and she brought all the protective instincts I had to the surface, which was funny because she was more than capable of protecting herself. It was hard for me to recall what my boring black-and-white world looked like before she stormed into it and bled color into every nook and cranny. I just wanted to take care of her, be with her.

“You hate this, don’t you?” She was rubbing her thumb along the back of my hand and across my knuckles. I could feel her stop and worry over the raised scars and marks that dotted my skin.

“Naw, it’s fine.”

She laughed next to me. “You’re about to fall asleep.”

I was, but I figured she didn’t need to worry about it. My attention kept drifting in and out. She wanted to see the girl in the movie get her happily-ever-after, and I figured I could hold out for that long. Besides, crashing out on the couch next to her was the closest I’d gotten to sleeping with her in the last month. I shifted so I could curl my arm around her and pull her closer to my side. I dropped a kiss on the top of her soft hair and told my overly anxious lower half to chill out. She had one arm wrapped around my waist and her other hand resting on my thigh. It was all very innocent, but telling my denied libido that was another story. Taking a little catnap might be the only way I made it through the rest of this date night without getting myself in trouble.