While We Waited (The Reed Brothers #8) Read online

His face colors and he turns toward his room. “I should put some clothes on,” he says, his voice gruff.

  “Not a bad idea,” I whisper.

  He closes his bedroom door behind him, and comes back out a minute later. He’s wearing a t-shirt and some pajama pants. His feet are bare. “Do you want me to take him?” he asks. He reaches like he’s going to take Benji out of my arms. I block him by turning slightly away.

  “He’s almost asleep.” I look down into his perfect little face. His mouth is slack around the bottle and I jiggle it between his lips to get him to suck. He grabs hold again and starts to drink.

  “You’re pretty good at that,” he says quietly.

  “Necessity is the mother of intention,” I quip.

  He grins. “Isn’t it invention?”

  “I know.” I smile back at him. “It’s something my dad used to do with me. He’d toss out these mis-worded quotes and sayings. He got us all doing it.”

  “Your real dad?”

  I nod my head. “Emilio.”

  Tag looks at me quizzically.

  I shrug. “He’s the only dad I’ve ever had.”

  Tag nods.

  “I’m going to go and visit my mom tomorrow,” I say quietly.

  He rubs his hands together quickly. “Oh, a date! What time?”

  “Whenever I get up.”

  The bottle falls out of Benji’s mouth and I set it to the side. He’s sound asleep.

  “Is he supposed to burp or something?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Sometimes he does. Sometimes he doesn’t.” He holds out his arms and I settle Benji in them. I run my hand across his hair, and I feel a sudden and overwhelming urge to bend and kiss his fat little cheek. So I do.

  I lean over and hover over his baby-scented hair, breathing him in, with my eyes closed. Then I press my lips to his forehead and hold them there.

  When I look up, I find Tag staring at me. Suddenly he grabs my shirt and jerks me toward him. His lips hover over mine. “Tell me not to kiss you,” he whispers, his eyes skittering across my face.

  “Don’t kiss me,” I say.

  His lips land on mine, hard. There’s nothing soft or sweet about his kiss. It’s hard and hot and I kiss him back. He sucks on my lower lip, and I nibble at his. I kiss him until some of the passion fades and I’m left with warmth and want.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” Tag whispers, his face close to mine.

  I nod. “Bad idea.” I swallow so loudly I can hear it.

  He tips my chin up so I have to look at him. My eyes refuse to rise and I look everywhere else. “It has been hell having you around for two weeks and not being able to touch you,” he tells me.

  Finally I look at him. “What’s stopping you from touching me?”

  “I want to wait. Until it’s right.”

  He leans and presses his lips to my forehead, lingering there just like I did with Benji. I feel the warm rush of air from his nose as he drinks me in, just like I did with his son. Only it’s not fondness or kindness I’m feeling from him. It’s heat.

  “I should go to bed,” I say.

  “Yeah, you should.”

  “Good night,” I whisper.

  “Night,” he replies.

  Instead of going to my room, I go to Lark’s. I open her door and slip inside. She’s lying in her bed listening to music with her headphones on. I fall onto the bed next to her and finally let out a breath.

  She tugs her headphones from her ears and stares at me. “Have you been drinking?”

  “No.” But I feel like I have.

  She lifts her hand to my forehead. “No fever,” she says.

  “Nope.” I look at her, and a grin breaks across my face.

  “Oh, my god,” she exclaims as she sits up. “Did you meet someone?”

  I’ve met so many someones that I can’t keep up with them all. “Sort of.” I wince.

  Her eyes narrow. “What do you mean, sort of?”

  “Tag sorta kinda just kissed me a little bit,” I blurt out. It rushes out of my mouth like wind through a tunnel.

  “What!” she screeches. I cover her mouth with my hand.

  “Shh!” I hiss. “He’ll hear you.”

  She grins and starts to whisper. “So, how was it?”

  “Perfect,” I say. My heart does a little dance in my chest.

  “Oh, Finny…” She looks upset all of a sudden.

  “What?”

  “I was wondering how long it would take.”

  My heart trips again. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw him sneaking out of your room that night, Finny,” she says quietly.

  “Oh.” Forgot about that.

  “And I haven’t seen you bring anyone else home since then.”

  “Yeah,” I breathe, wincing, “I better get on that.”

  “You like him.”

  “No…” I draw out the word.

  “Yes, you do.”

  I bury my face in my hands. I groan. “I don’t know.” I look at her finally. “Tell me what I should do.”

  She lies back beside me and we both stare up at the ceiling. She takes my hand and holds it and doesn’t say anything more. The soft texture of the gloves she always wears slips across my skin.

  Her breaths go soft and even and I realize she’s asleep. I get out of her bed and steel my shoulders. I’m going to tell Tag that I can’t do this. I can’t be that girl.

  I go to his room and lift my knuckles to knock.

  “Don’t do it,” a voice says through the crack in the door.

  I freeze. “Don’t do what?”

  “Don’t knock on my door.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a bad idea.”

  “Okay.” I turn to go back to my own room.

  The door opens and he sticks his head out. “I’ve been waiting for you to come and knock on my door so you can slap me for that kiss.”

  “I wasn’t going to slap you.”

  “I know.” He lays his forehead against the doorjamb of his room. “That’s what scares me.”

  I nod, although I don’t understand at all. Not a bit. “Okay.”

  I go to my room and he closes the door to his. I look back at his closed door for a moment.

  What the fuck was that?

  Finny

  Music pounds in my veins like a heartbeat. It’s quick and consuming and I’m so damn hot that I’m turning myself on, and all I’m doing is dancing.

  My personal security guard is standing over by the bar, pretending to nurse on a Jack and Coke, but I know it’s just diet soda. I don’t always need a security guard, but when I go out in a crowd and I’m alone, it’s best to have someone to help if things go bad. Jason’s gaze wanders around the room, and he scowls when he sees the guy I’m dancing with get a little too close. He starts to get up, but I shake my head at him. He narrows his eyes at me in a silent question.

  No, I don’t need for you to come and pull him off me. This is not the one I want. The one I want smells like baby spit-up and talcum powder.

  “You want to go to my place?” the guy asks, his mouth close to my ear.

  I shake my head. “I just want to dance!”

  Before Tag, I would have said yes to him. I would go and not think twice about it. I might come twice. Maybe more if he’s any good, but I wouldn’t even have to think about it. Yes, I might orgasm. But something tells me I would still feel empty inside after I get home. I’d shower off the scent and the feel of sex, and then I’d wrap my arms around my pillow and fall asleep.

  The live band stops playing and we all clap.

  “We’re taking a five minute break,” someone says quietly into the mic.

  “Thanks for the dance,” I say over my shoulder. The guy clutches his chest like I’ve stabbed him, but I walk away. I start toward the bar so that I can get something cool to drink.

  Jason, my personal bodyguard, pretends like he doesn’t know me, so I lean into his side. “So, are you ever going to fuc
k me or what?” I smile and bat my lashes at him.

  He grins a sideways kind of smile. “I don’t think my wife would appreciate it, Fin, but thank you for thinking of me.” He rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at me. Jason is pushing fifty, and he has been happily married for twenty-five of those years. He mumbles something about jailbait as a scantily clad young woman walks by us.

  “How’s Norma?” I ask.

  “She’s pissed at me. Apparently, I was supposed to have been a mind reader or some shit.”

  I bump his shoulder with mine. “What did you neglect to do?”

  He pretends to look offended. “What makes you think it was me?”

  I look down toward his lap. “Because you have testicles, dude.”

  He pushes his knees together. “Stop talking about my man parts.”

  “I didn’t say I want to lick them or anything, Jason,” I say with a grin.

  He looks down his nose at me. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

  I freeze. He realizes his mistake immediately, because he reaches to grab me when I pull away.

  “I’m sorry, Finny. I didn’t mean it.” He pushes me back onto the barstool. “I meant Marta.”

  “Yes, I do kiss my mother with this mouth,” I toss back. I wave my finger around the room. “And I kiss other people, too. Some people happen to like my advances.” I glare at him. I like to mess with him but, truth be told, he’s like a comfortable old uncle. He’s been on my detail long enough that he feels like family.

  “When you going to settle down, Finny?”

  “Never,” I tell him, and I suck down the last of my water.

  Someone taps the mic at the front of the room, then clears his throat. I look over at the stage. “I just heard a rumor that someone famous is here,” the club owner says. He shades his hand with his eyes and starts scanning the area.

  Oh, shit. Jason grabs my arm and gets ready to pull me toward the back exit.

  “Wait,” I say. I hold up one finger. He doesn’t let me go.

  “You’re going to get both of us killed,” he murmurs at me. “And Norma will chop my balls off if I let you get hurt.” But he stands still and lets me see what they want.

  “One of the members of Fallen from Zero is here. Their lead guitarist. Finch Vasquez,” he says, searching the crowd. Then he places his palms together like he’s praying. “Finny, the last time you were here, you graced us with a song.” He holds up a guitar. “Will you do us the honor?”

  “What do you think?” I mumble at Jason.

  “I think you’re stuck now,” he mumbles back. He walks beside me, presiding over me like I’m the most important person on the planet. Someone reaches out to touch my shirt, and he brushes the arm away.

  I walk up to the stage and take the guitar. I hold the mic away from me. “Just one song,” I tell him.

  The club owner grins and nods. “Just one.” He leans over and kisses my cheek.

  “I have one condition,” I say into the mic. I reach over and take a hat off a guy’s head in the crowd. “If you want me to play, you guys have to fill up the hat. I’ll give the money to the homeless shelter on the way home. Deal?”

  I wait to hear their enthusiastic responses. The hat starts to move around the room, and people drop cash into it. I see Jason clear it out and stuff the money in his pocket, and then start it moving again.

  I settle on the edge of a stool and balance the guitar on my lap. I pluck at it.

  “I can’t believe Finny Vasquez is playing my fucking guitar!” the owner of the instrument crows.

  I grin and start to play. I have a new song I just wrote, so I might as well try it out, right? I suddenly clap my hands over the strings and stop.

  “My sister Peck just had a baby boy two months ago,” I say into the mic. “This one is for her.”

  I start to play again.

  Sometimes when I see my sister with her baby boy, I watch them together. Her eyes fill with so much love and joy that it makes me ache. I never had that. Not for a moment. Not until I met Marta did I know the definition of unconditional love.

  In the first minute,

  I wondered how you could be so perfect.

  In the second minute,

  I wondered how you could be so small.

  In the third minute,

  I wondered how you could be so fragile.

  In the fourth minute,

  I wondered how you could be so bald.

  In the fifth minute,

  I watched you breathe.

  In the sixth minute,

  I watched you cry.

  In the seventh minute,

  I watched you stretch.

  In the eighth minute,

  I watched you love.

  You were born knowing

  That you were loved.

  You were born knowing

  That you were adored.

  You were born knowing

  That you would be cared for.

  And in that moment,

  Her dreams came true,

  Because she was loved by you.

  I repeat the beginning and the chorus a couple of times, and by the time I’m done, I’ve upset myself a little, because I wasn’t born knowing I was loved. In fact, it was just the opposite. I was born knowing I was hated.

  You were born knowing

  That were you loved.

  You were born knowing

  That you were adored.

  You were born knowing

  That you would be cared for.

  And in that moment,

  Her dreams came true,

  Because…she…was loved by…you.

  My voice goes quiet and I wait. The audience blinks at me and then they start to clap. A few women at the front wipe their eyes and someone else proposes marriage.

  I pull a felt-tip pen out of my pocket and hold it over the guitar, silently asking the owner with my eyes if he’d like for me to sign it. He pumps his fist and shouts, “Hell yes!” So I sign it with a flourish. I stuff my Sharpie back in my jeans pocket and hand him his guitar.

  He tries to hug me, but Jason gets between us. The guitar owner holds up his hands like he’s surrendering to the cops.

  Jason leads me off the stage and we walk back to the bar, I can’t stay here now that everyone knows who I am. I’m aware of it, and so is Jason. He’s hyper-aware of it, if the way he’s clutching my arm is any indication. “We need to get out of here,” he says.

  And that is when things go ridiculously bad.

  Tag

  I stand with my foot against the wall and cross my arms in front of my chest. God, she’s beautiful. Music comes out of her mouth and straight from her fingertips into the guitar and it’s like it’s shooting directly from her soul into mine.

  She sings of babies. And babies should be laughter and light and goodness, but what I don’t think most people realize is that she’s singing about loss. She’s singing about her own life, and all the things she missed.

  My gut clenches at the look on her face.

  I left my own son at home with my sister Wren. He’s only a few days old, but Wren wanted to sit and hold him, so she asked me to come and check on Fin at the bar. Honestly, I smell a set-up, but it’s a trap I’d give just about anything to fall into.

  Finny signs the guitar with a flourish, and I wait for her to clear the stage.

  I see the crowd of people surround them, and I watch Jason as he tries to get between them and her. But he’s only one man.

  I guess when you’re a famous rock star this happens, but I never expected it to happen quite so fast. I push my way into the crowd, and Jason sees me and yells, “Get on her other side!”

  I nod and shove through the throng. Finny curses as someone grabs the arm of her shirt and rips. I see the flash of her pink bra as the seams render, and my vision goes hazy with rage.

  I spin the guy who just tried to strip her down to face me and punch him in the throat. He goes down like a stone, so I step
over him and go for another. I take a sudden punch to my own jaw that makes my teeth snap together, and then I see that it’s a woman. I can’t hit a woman.

  The club owner and his security are trying to help too, and they push the rest of the crowd back. Fin is on the floor, and I realize that I’m lying on top of her.

  “Umm,” she says, “Tag…”

  “What?” I can barely get my breath, much less speak.

  “You’re kind of squishing me.”

  I lift myself up on my elbows and look down at her face. “Sorry.”

  Then I realize how we’re lying. Her legs are spread, and I’m resting between them.

  “Shit,” I say. “Sorry.” I scramble to get off of her.

  She laughs and pulls me back down. “I kind of liked it,” she says with a giggle.

  Heat creeps up my face as my dick gets hard. Crap. Didn’t mean for that to happen.

  “Well, you do like me,” she says close to my ear. She laughs. “I thought you were immune to me by now.”

  I’ll never be immune to this woman. “Stop it.”

  She laughs. “I’m not the one pressing his dick into my soft parts, Tag,” she says.

  This time, I do scramble to get up. Her eyes linger on my dick. “Impressive,” she murmurs. I hold out a hand to her and she takes it. I pull her up to stand beside me. She’s so tiny that she barely comes up to my shoulder.

  I reach over to adjust her shirt, but it’s ripped all the way to her neckline. You can see her bra. I reach over my head and pull my shirt off the way guys do, ruck it up in my fingers, and slip it over her head.

  “Thanks,” she says. She lifts the neck of my shirt to her nose and takes a deep breath. “You smell really good.” Suddenly, she looks around. “Where’s Jason?”

  She searches frantically until she finds him lying on the floor. She rushes over to him. “What happened?” she cries.

  “I think that fucker broke my wrist,” he says as he clutches his arm to his chest. He winces and she sinks down beside him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I hear her say.

  “It’s not your fault he was an asshole.” He lays his head back against the wall and winces. “I think I need to go to the hospital.”

  She nods and helps him get up. “Should I call Norma?”

  He nods. “If we don’t, she’ll never let me live it down. I’ll be sleeping on the couch for a month.”