I may not have a family, but I can’t imagine finding out that your birth mother was married to the man who wants to hurt the love of your life, and is working with your corrupt birth father in order to do so.
“Harry never knew who your father was, and to be honest I avoid Harry at all costs these days. He is toxic, and someone who trapped me into a marriage that I didn’t want to be in any more,” she replies emphatically. I can see her eyes glistening with tears, but also with wonder as she looks at her twenty-seven year old son sitting across the room from her. “Brax, I never forgot you. Not once.”
I hear him grunt beside me; he’s closing down. I can tell by the slumped shoulders and the way he’s staring at the ground that he needs time to process this.
Before I can suggest to Sylvia that we try this another time, she beats me to the punch.
“Elle, dear, I think I should go. Brax needs time to deal with this.” She stands up and moves towards the front door but stops. She looks down at her son. “Brax, please know that I’ve thought about you every day. I always wondered what you looked like, where you were living, whether you had met someone and started a family of your own. I only ever wanted the best in life for you, but the only way to escape your father was to leave you both behind.”
For the first time since my family’s funeral, I see a crack in Aunt Sylvie’s exterior. She quickly recovers before giving me a kiss on the cheek and promising to catch up in the next few days.
Brax has not moved from the couch. He is just sitting there, staring at the ground, and I can tell that there is a gamut of emotions coursing through him as he tries to comprehend what just happened.
Kneeling in front of him, I cup his chin in my hands and pull his face up to meet mine. “Babe? Are you okay?”
He just stares at me, his eyes wide with shock. “What just happened?” he whispers.
“You just met your birth mother, babe. The woman who gave birth to you,” I say with a soft smile.
“How could she have been married to Brimstone? He’s a monster! It’s like she went from one poor excuse for a man straight into the arms of another,” he says, not quite believing it.
I decide to take action. This whole situation is too emotionally charged to deal with right now. I can tell that he needs me now more than ever. After everything he has done for me, I need to be able to give him that.
I can sense the dark cloud forming around me. It’s something I haven’t felt since Roger died. I can’t shake it, and as hard as Elle tries she’s not going to be able to make me feel better. Not this time.
After Sylvia left, I sat back on the couch and let out the biggest breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding in. Elle and I had been through an emotional wringer in the past week. Hell, the past few months. We hadn’t needed an impromptu reunion with my birth mother added into that equation.
Unable to deal with the situation, or the thoughts that are running through my head, I move to the kitchen and start searching through the cupboards.
“What are you doing, Brax? We need to talk about this,” I hear Elle ask as she follows me to the kitchen.
“Darlin’, I love you more than life itself. But right now, I need a big drink of something very alcoholic that will make me very drunk. How ‘bout it?” I ask. I’m putting on a strong front, but given what has just transpired in our living room, my eyes are pleading with Elle to give me this moment.
She acquiesces with a small grin. She knows what I’m doing; she’s been where I am right now. She pops herself up onto the kitchen counter, leaving her legs dangling over the side as she watches me with amusement. “Cupboard above the refrigerator, right hand side.”
“Such a holdout,” I say, leaning over to give her a quick kiss before poking my tongue out at her. I reach up and find the mother load; a full bottle of Jack Daniels. “This will do. Feel like joining me?” I ask, quirking my eyebrow and smirking at her.
“I like where this is going. Yes, I’ll join you,” she adds a wink before grabbing a couple of glasses from the cupboard behind her and placing them beside her. “But if we’re doing shots, we’re doing body shots.”
Now that has my attention!
My eyes shoot up to meet hers, and she winks at me. She’s trying to distract me for once, and she’s right on the money.
“Hmm, body shots it is.”
I move towards her, placing myself square between her legs. She widens them to accommodate me and gasps when I run my hands slowly up her exposed thighs, stopping just as I reach the place she wants me most. I lean forward, moving my hands around her hips and up her chest until I graze the side of her br**sts. I continue my journey, moving my face close to hers as I softly lick her lips, begging for her to open. She obliges, and my tongue jumps at the chance to taste her, exploring her mouth, trying to distract from the thoughts running through my head. She whimpers into my mouth as I pull my lips away and slowly trail my nose along her jaw towards her ear.
“I’m thinking body shots with you could be a lot of fun.”
I smile against her mouth and hear a groan run right through her body when I pull away. Grabbing the glasses and the bottle of whisky, I pull on Elle’s hand as she jumps off the counter and follows me to the living room.
After all of the drama of today, whisky shots and drunken sex with Elle sound like a perfect ending.
13
My phone rings from the kitchen and wakes me up. Pulling my pillow over my head, I try to ignore it, hoping like hell they’ll stop and leave a message. I’m just starting to drift off, when it starts ringing again.
Dammit!
I roll over and see Brax lying flat on his back, softly snoring, sheet pulled down to his hips and have to stifle a giggle when I see that he’s obviously having a very good dream, going by the tent that’s been made in the sheet.
I carefully get out of bed, inwardly cursing myself for the body shots suggestion. My head is throbbing, my eyes feel like they’re made of sandpaper, and my body is punishing me. My throat is so parched; it feels like I’ve just run a marathon without water.
After cleaning myself up in the bathroom, I turn the coffeemaker on and grab my phone, still wondering who the hell would call me at this stupid hour. I see four missed calls, and one of them is from Lawrence my lawyer. This can’t be good.
Just as I’m dialing Lawrence’s number, it starts ringing again.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Elise Halliwell?” an echoing female voice asks.