Wicked Burn(65)
Author: Beth Kery

“Don’t go,” he said simply. Sweat slicked his body and his cock still felt like it would burst like a grape out of its own skin, it was so tight. If he couldn’t have her, Vic had concerns for his own sanity.

Pain flickered across her features. “I have to. I want to be able to explain things, Vic. You’re angry at me. It’s not right for us to . . . I’m sorry,” she fumbled in a whisper. “Maybe tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.

Vic examined her tear-stained face as she looked up at him. The sight pulled at him so hard it felt like something dislodged and fell with crushing impact deep inside of him. The suspicion that that nameless something was his brittle defense against Niall kicked up his tumult once again. He was just frustrated, horny, and confused enough to make her want to suffer as much as he was at that moment. He leaned forward and spoke in a low, cutting tone.

“The time for explanations and confessions has passed, Niall. But if you want to finish what we started here, you know where to find me.”

He shut the door with a brisk click, wishing like hell he hadn’t looked directly in her wide eyes as he’d done it.

That night Niall awoke from a restless sleep to hear thunder and rain lashing at the windowpane. She listened for several minutes, the sound of the thunderstorm unleashing its torrent upon the earth somehow soothing her hurt and confusion over what had happened with Vic.

An ear-piercing crack of thunder rattled the room, but Niall remained completely motionless, drowning in the deep wells of memory

Michael used to be so afraid of thunderstorms. After his fourth birthday Stephen had become impatient at the little boy’s crying in the middle of the night and his requests to get into bed with his parents.

“He’s too old to be sleeping with us! He’s too old to be behaving this way at all,” Stephen had once hissed at Niall, irritated at being awakened when he had such a full schedule at work the following day.

“He’s four years old,” Niall had responded incredulously. “I can’t imagine a more likely age or time for him to be afraid than when he’s alone during a frightening thunderstorm.”

She had gone and cuddled up with Michael on his little bed on several occasions while the storm raged outside. She had taught him the game of counting one-one-hundred, two-one-hundred, three-one-hundred after the flash of lightning to the onset of thunder in order to determine whether or not the storm was receding. She’d even told him that silly story about thunder being God bowling in heaven in order to get him to back away from his terror a little. It had worked and Michael had begun to laugh during the especially loud cracks of thunder, because it meant that God had bowled a strike.

Before he’d fallen asleep one night after she’d stayed with him during a storm—Niall thought it might have been the July before his death—he’d murmured groggily, “It’s only fun listenin’ to God bowling when you’re here, Mommy.”

Niall’s eyes clamped shut tightly at the poignant memory. An empty feeling welled up in her. Niall thought the origin of that familiar ache originated in her womb.

Her little boy . . . her precious little boy.

She cried softly while the storm wreaked havoc outside. Right before she fell asleep, she had the thought that it was better to cry for Michael awake than in her dreams. Mourning in her nightmares always had such a painful, panicked quality to it.

But tonight—despite everything that had happened with Vic—once she’d had her cry, Niall slept restfully, without dreams.

The sun rose the next morning on a fresh, ethereal world.

“What’s got you in such a perky mood this morning?” Meg asked as they carried plates and glasses to the breakfast table. Donny walked into the kitchen as Niall was distributing plates.

“How could I not be in a good mood? It’s absolutely gorgeous outside today. Hi, Donny, I didn’t know you slept over last night.”

Donny shrugged as he shuffled over to the refrigerator, still looking half asleep. “The cops were over at my house last night,” he mumbled. “All those flashing red lights sort of make sleeping difficult.”

Niall and Meg exchanged a pointed glance. “What were the cops doing there?” Niall asked.

“Busting my brother Jake for armed robbery,” Donny said dully. He uncapped the milk jug and started filling glasses in a listless fashion.

“I thought Jake was in Pontiac,” Meg said, referring to the prison.

“He got out last week. Guess he missed it, cuz it didn’t take him long to buy a ticket back,” Donny said with a mirthless grin.

“Well, shit,” Meg muttered, shedding her principal persona in her compassion for what the boy had to endure on a regular basis.

“Yeah,” Donny agreed, giving the impression that he thought Meg’s description was pretty much dead-on. “Hey, Tim,” he said a second later when Meg’s husband came into the kitchen. “I saw Vic taking off on Traveler just now, so I guess he’s not eating,” Donny informed them.

Niall’s heart seemed to grow heavier in her chest at Donny’s casual statement. Was Vic back to ignoring her again so quickly? She took a deep, fortifying breath, determined not to be conquered by her fears and insecurities on such a glorious morning.

During breakfast Donny mentioned that he was going to be exercising some of the horses in the corral.

“Are you going to exercise Velvet?” Niall asked.

Donny nodded as he shoved a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth.

“Well, maybe I could come out and watch—sort of meet her.” She paused when she saw Donny’s surprised expression. “Velvet is the one that you said maybe I could try to ride, isn’t it?”

Donny swallowed rapidly. “Yeah, but I thought you were too scared to try and ride.”

“Well, let’s take things a step at a time,” Niall said with a nervous laugh. “I’m not promising anything, but maybe if Velvet and I could get used to each other . . . Well, we’ll see.”

“Awesome,” Donny muttered before he started shoveling his oatmeal into his mouth with notably increased energy and enthusiasm.

Meg caught Niall’s eye and winked. Niall’s cheeks grew slightly hot at her friend’s subtle acknowledgment that she knew what Niall was doing. Niall supposed it was a small enough sacrifice to make in order to lift Donny out of his gloomy mood.

Or at least she thought that until she was standing outside the corral fence later, watching Donny send Velvet through her paces. Velvet was a beautiful, sleek mare that Niall supposed was rather small and delicate when it came to the average size of horses in general.